Burning Bridges [Ena]

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 16, 2012 23:15:46 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 16, 2012 23:15:46 GMT -5

Breaking and entering. He has a point. ”Well, yes, but…. Why run around the house in the first place? I do, but that’s because I have this nasty habit of setting once-edible foods on fire. You never had that trouble. Lucky bastard,” I added. My mother had tried and failed to teach me to cook since I left the womb, unfortunately the lessons never took. What I touched, I destroyed. It was an atrocious affliction that even the most loving lessons had never managed to cure.

As Sentry sat up and away from her, I watched him closely, eyes narrowed, just waiting for that bandage to loosen because I'd ruined the knot too, or for the loud color of the blood to start seeping through the off-white fabric. It would, too, if only to spite her. Blood had a way of doing that to people, didn’t it? Beat on a half-dead man’s chest and try to save him, but never realize the cut on the inside of his leg from a wheat scythe, which, as you try to revive him, is pulsing blood out in waves, actually letting you kill him instead. ”I guess knocking would have been a more appropriate entrance,” I mused then, deciding that he wasn’t yet in immediate danger of bleeding to death on the floor I’d swept for years now. At least not right this moment, anyway.

”….try to keep my bodily fluids inside next time….” My lips tightened around a joke I’m sure has its time and place, which certainly isn’t here and now. Instead I say a simple ”Thank you,” and let it pass without comment. It’s the remarks like this that—despite how efficiently we fight with each other—make it so damned difficult to ever hate him for long. He can make even the blandest of statements into a declaration so unexpected you find yourself wondering if it really did just come out his mouth, or you, in a stroke of usually-witless genius, somehow came up with it yourself and just imagined that he would be the one to say it. But I know the both of us well enough to know that I’d never come up with those kinds of quips like he does. ”Wouldn’t want them to run off and rob a bakery while you’re not looking….” I say blithely instead.

My small smile falters a bit at his next words. ”I have a lot to think about….”

I don’t want to leave just yet. This house….it smells like her. My parents always believed in spirits, or they made out like they did, and even my practiced cynicism can’t prevent the sensation that she’s here still, here now, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially in my ear. Stay, stay, she says. Just for a while…. Just to make sure he’s okay…. I wish I could tell her, when is he ever not? But there’s something about his repeated dismissals of my presence that suggest that, today at least, he isn’t. For once in his life, Sentinel needs something more than his own instinctual wit, the kind that I always lacked.

”Can’t you think when I’m here?” I ask, bringing my knees up to my chest. ”You always did before.” I don’t have to work to keep my voice neutral and unassuming now; I’m good at that. I pause, bite my upper lip, sneak a glance at him, look away. Past him, now that I’m not seeing so much crimson, I can see through the open doorway all the small tokens scattered over the floor of her room. The oldest ones have crumbled, but they were never meant to last, anyway. If a thing lasts forever, it has no value anymore. Just like life. Just like breathing. But, even knowing that I made them out of natural things for the specific purpose of not having them remain and grow stale forever, making them life because I knew someday they’d die, I’m saddened to see them now. In any condition, really. They represent the placeless love of a person neither of us can see anymore. Does it matter, really, if she still watches us, whispers things, if we can never see her, never touch her again? I don’t know the answer. Chin resting on my knees. ”Want help cleaning those up? They were never meant to last as long as they did anyway….” I don’t know what he wants to do with them now. I squirm, uncomfortable already with my next query. ”Do you want to, um, talk?” We don’t really talk about feelings, Sentry and I. We’re both a lot more tangible than that.

Last Edit: Jan 16, 2012 23:16:57 GMT -5 by Ena Mena Mina Mo

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 15:27:47 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 17, 2012 15:27:47 GMT -5

I groan. I should have known that Hadena would be hard to get rid of. The only time we were apart as kids was when we had to sleep, and even then she or I usually snuck out for sleepovers. Hadena and I stuck close together, even when we were sick of each other. But… that was when we were kids. Y’know. Friends. But I guess some things never change.

I give her a dark look, and snort. “Talk? Are you kidding me? This coming from the girl who didn’t talk to me for years because I kissed her.” I shake my head in disbelief and lay my back against the wall. We sit in silence for a while, and pretty soon my tense body has relaxed and I’ve spread my limbs out lazily. It’s almost relaxing having Hadena next to me again. We used to lay in silence for hours; I did some of my best thinking with her steady breathing in the background of my thoughts.

This silence feels natural, peaceful even. Chummy. Just sitting here, it feels like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I don’t think I’ve felt this relaxed since returning from the city a year ago. I look sideways at Hadena, wondering how she could still have this affect on me; this power to quiet my inner demons. She doesn’t look much different from when I last saw her. But in a way she does. She’s thinner, curvier, more mature looking. She can be called beautiful whereas when she was younger she was known to be ‘pretty.’

Ugh, how can she still affect me this way? She needs to stop it!

“Damn it, Hadena.” I finally break the silence. I don’t necessarily sound mean; my tone is more resigned than anything. I place a hand over my eyes, and rub my temples to stave off a headache. “You don’t get to reappear in my life and just pretend these past years didn’t happen. I’ve decided that I do, indeed, want to talk.” I sit forward and pivot my body so I don’t have to turn my head to look at her. “Why’d you do it?” It’s an open ended question. She can answer it however she wished. Why’d she avoid me? Why’d she hit me? Why’d she take care of my mother, and not ever tell me? Any answer would be nice.

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 15:54:33 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 17, 2012 15:54:33 GMT -5

”….who didn’t talk to me for years because I kissed her.” I shift uncomfortably. He’s not wrong. I don’t exactly want to admit that he’s right, either, though. Because that would me that I’m the one who’s wrong. I’m relieved that he doesn’t want to talk—feelings really aren’t my forte—and settle a little more comfortably back against the hard wall. Well, comfort isn’t quite the right word; content is probably more accurate, to a certain degree. I’m still uncertain, uncomfortable, but I’m not twitching or stammering anymore, which is an improvement.

I remember the scarf wound around my neck on top of my own and am about to reach up and give it to him when he speaks, making my hands still as I turn to look at him. ”I’ve decided that I do indeed want to talk.” Oh lord. He moves so he’s facing me, and automatically I want to retreat, feel like I’m being confronted, and I know that I am. Automatically, knowing that some version of soul-baring must follow, I want to get up and run. I’ve always run, and it’s always worked well for me. Hasn’t it? ”Why’d you do it?”

I swallow, and I don’t know if he notices how my hands fist where they’re warming between my knees. I’ve set his gloves down somewhere—a horrible habit of mine—and don’t remember where, and can no longer hide my hands in them. My eyes are widened slightly, wary and fearful, but the rest of my face is smooth. As I notice exactly how my expression is split between the blatant projection of my thoughts as it used to be, and the reserved façade that it’s become, I wonder what exactly the change was meant to do, meant to instill. I changed after I ran away from him the first time, but, had I ever hid from Sentry before? Not that I can recall…. This must be a first. My eyes search his face and I know now that hiding from Sentry just isn’t going to work—even when we were hiding only to play, he always managed to find me. He always won the game. I know some confusion is seeping into my worried eyes as they flick over his expectant features. I notice how the nose that used to stick out like a dock in a harbor now more resembles the proud arch in the sail of a boat, how his heavy brow now appears more distinguished and assertive than thick or arrogant. Arrogance has really been more of a habit for me than him, I think.

I take in a short breath. ”You look good, Sentry,” I say finally, wondering if he realizes that my words are both more generalized and more focused than they imply. He’s handsome, not that gangly boy anymore, and there’s an intensity to his expression that hints at things I know I’ll never be intuitive enough to fully see. Needing to escape what already feels like a cage of observation, of questioning, I scoot past him and into his mom’s room to gently begin gathering the scattered dream catchers. The ones that aren’t worth keeping because they’re broken or have been broken for years, I just leave on the ground. Now that my hands have something to do, and my eyes something to focus on besides him, I feel some of the pressure lightening, but only by the tiniest margin. ”I’m not sure if I know,” I say quietly, voice impeded by something intangible. I huff irritably at myself. ”No, that’s a lie. I know some of it. I guess.” Fold an orange butterfly wing back into its protective paper sheath and set it aside. My hands ground me while my thoughts and heart quail and tremble. ”I—I never wanted anything to change. When we were kids, everything was perfect. I couldn’t think of anything I could want past what I already had. But Acmon died, he disappeared, and even the fact that he was sick was too much change for me to be comfortable with what was happening. Even at the first sneeze it felt like I was slipping down somewhere dark. Then you….I don’t know. Mostly I was surprised, shocked, and it really was an accident that I hit you.” I still won’t look at him. ”I wanted to apologize for that part because I felt terrible about it, but, I was afraid to go back. Acmon had already changed by leaving, and I didn’t want you to change, too. Maybe nothing much would have changed….I wasn’t entirely ignorant of what our parents said. But…I’m not a risk-taker, I don’t like things that I can’t understand or predict, and to be honest it scared the shit out of me.” The dream catchers are all safe and sleeping back in their box, and my hands fidget and start twitching again, needing something to do before my feet decide to compensate by taking me up and far away.

I breathe, pointlessly organizing the little catchers around in their box just for something to watch myself do. ”Then you went to the city so you could get more money for your mom, and I knew I couldn’t come too, both because it was already too late to fix what I’d done and because I’d be terrified to ever go more than a couple miles from where I live. I knew there wasn’t much I could do to help, but I tried. Took care of the little things, like filling the water troughs and forking hay around or just sweeping the floor. I was sort of happy for a while just because none of that took any thought, it wasn’t anything difficult. When you came home, I was scared all over again, and I didn’t want to end up just hurting you again, probably still on accident, so I made myself scarce. I actually had to blackmail your mom not to tell you that I was still coming around. But I felt bad that I was avoiding you, so I tried to, I don’t know—compensate? When she was tired I tried to put something on the table so you wouldn’t have to come home hungry. I think I might have done more harm than good with that, though,” I say even quieter. My eyes flick up once and down again, then I finally unwrap the scarf from my neck and hand it over to him. ”You left this at our house that day,” That day we fell apart.

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 20:16:27 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 17, 2012 20:16:27 GMT -5

I quirk my eyebrow at her compliment, but I don’t say anything to it. I have no idea what she means. I’m an unshaven, disheveled mess. Was she mocking me? When she moves into my mother’s room, I follow her, but I don’t cross the threshold. I lean on the door frame, and watch her avoid my eyes.

“Didn’t want things to change?” I repeat in disbelief. “Hadena, things were already changing.” I practically yell at her, exasperated. “It was just a kiss, didn’t mean nothing.” I shrug it off, and look out the window over mom’s bed. It was snowing rather hard outside. The snow piled up on the sill was at least two inches high. I wonder how much snow had fallen on the ground. “You just overreacted. It’s not like I was trying to climb into your pants.” I add a snort to the end of that sentence to make it appear like I’d never be caught dead doing such a thing.

“I was just some stupid kid, who panicked because he saw his friend drifting away from him. It was nothing more. In all honesty, I wasn’t that mad that you hit me. It’s fine. I mean, we always beat each other up. What made me mad is that a week passed, and you never showed up. And then another week, and then a month, and then a year, and many more years after that.” I know I could have taken that step to apologize and try to bridge the gap, but that’s not how I work. I’m dirt poor and the only thing I have is my pride. I wasn’t about to humble myself to someone who broke my heart. Fuck that.

I much as I want to write that kiss off as nothing, I can’t. It was a desperate attempt to turn our friendship into something more. To put me in a position where I could be even closer to Hadena, and help her through a bad time in her life. “Sorry okay. It wasn’t the best time and place, but I thought I was helping. I didn’t know you’d take it so seriously. Kissing is just…” I don’t know what to say, so I just say this: “In the city, I met a lot of… nice girls.” I shrug offhandedly. “Kissing was just a fun way to pass the time… among other things.” Oh lord, I’ve resorted to being crude. Well, she made me. I tried getting rid of her that nice way, but to no avail. If this doesn’t make her leave, then I’m going to have to resort to more drastic measures.

I wave away my scarf and point out the window. “Nah, you will need it walking back. Besides, since you’ve had it all this time, you can keep it.” I try not to think too hard on the fact that she kept my scarf for so long. It was probably for practical reasons.

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 20:43:27 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 17, 2012 20:43:27 GMT -5

”Hadena, things were already changing!”

I wince. ”Yeah, I know.” But I didn’t want them to. I would rather have died myself than to watch the world I depended on morph into something I no longer recognized. The fact that it was familiar, predictable, made it safe. And then things did start to change, and my cozy world wasn’t safe anymore. ”It didn’t mean anything.” ”Well I didn’t know that! You know I can’t read people. The only people-related thing I’m good at is finding the quickest way to piss someone off so they’ll leave me alone. A trick, might I add, that’s never worked on you.” Which has been a small source of both curiosity and mild irritation throughout my life. Then again, when Sentry thinks it’s a better idea to stick out my bad mood with me than to reach higher ground, chances are he’s right. I trust his instincts more than I trust mine, when it comes to people. Hell, I used to trust them when they came to me, too. Now…. Now what do I trust? I trust Sentry, but I feel like I don’t know him anymore. Have we changed too much, hurt each other too much, to go back to that easy friendship we both shared?

I nodded in acquiescence when he mentions the mutual bruisings we always gave each other. We were certainly not the gentlest of friends, and I think that is one reason we stuck around each other for so long to begin with. We each knew the other one’s limits so well, neither one of us ever had to check a blow, be it verbal or physical. We knew what we were doing when it came to each other. One mind split into two separate halves. It was only when our hearts got involved….that everything fell to pieces and blew away.

But apparently enough of the shards remain. But enough for what? I think we might struggle to ever go backwards; time has always meant for us to go forward. ”….and many more years after that.” I close my eyes, slowly sit back against the wall, my spine spiking with pain when I hit it too hard. I lower my forehead onto my fists, which rest upon my bended knees. ”I know, I know,” I moan. ”Sentry, I’m so sorry….” I may not like to tell him that he’s right; his head’s big enough as it is. But apologizing I have no problem with. Especially when much more is due, I just don’t know how to give it, or what even to give.

”I thought I was helping.” I chuckle weakly. Into my knees I murmur, ”Well, at least one of us thought before he acted. I certainly didn’t.”

”….among other things.” My eyebrows lift, not that he can see it from the near-fetal position I’ve curled myself into. My protections are all failing at this point. I want to wedge myself into a corner again and again until I could fit inside a nutshell and hide forever with the downy blanket of dust that I never manage to fully eradicate. ”Well,” I say, voice muffled and amused, ”I hope you enjoyed yourself.” I honestly do want him to be happy. I’d prefer him to be here, now that we seem to have achieved a modicum of civility between us again, but if he’s happy in the city I won’t stop him from going. I wouldn’t even try. We runners don’t like to keep other people from running, even if they walk or drive or take a train to do it. We know what it feels like to want to hide, even if you’re trying to hide among masses of other human bodies just like yours, at least half of which are probably trying to do the exact same thing as you.

”You will need it walking back.” I lift my hiding eyes just enough to peek out the window to see the snow swirling against the cold glass pane. Having to physically prevent myself from burying my face in my hands again, I tentatively push my eyes over toward him. He’s keeping his distance, probably because he senses I might implode at any moment. ”I remembered a scarf,” I say. ”But I may have to take your gloves back, just for today. If I can find where I set them down, anyway.” I fidget guiltily. This is why people don’t give me things, and why I never have my own gloves to wear. I can never keep track of them. ”Sentry?” I begin again, hesitant, voice smaller and much, much less casual than I want it to be. ”Are you going back to the city?” Even I can’t keep from my voice the hope that he won’t, the faint note of pleading, the sadness when I anticipate that he will. As soon as he goes I’ll be alone again. Sentry was the only one I spent time with before….and he’s the only one I’d still spend time with, if he would let me.

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 21:06:09 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 17, 2012 21:06:09 GMT -5

I stare at Hadena, but make no move to get the scarf from her. Why is she still here? I guess I was too easy on her. I shouldn’t have forgotten how tough she was. I crack a mischievous grin, that’s more cat-that-ate-a-canary than a cute ten year old with a secret. “Back to the city? Probably.” I shrug. “Nothing left for me here, anyway. Mom’s dead. Dad’s gone. Farm’s poorer than ever.”

“I don’t know when I’ll go. Maybe a week at the most.” I step away from the doorframe, and closer to her, so that only a few inches separate us. “Now, if you don’t mind. I think I’ll get a shower.” My shirt is up and over my head in a blink of an eye. I throw it in the corner. Then the pants go down and I fling them with the shirt. “Do you want to stay and watch, or…?” I look pointedly out the window.

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 21:28:04 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 17, 2012 21:28:04 GMT -5

”Nothing left for me here anyway.” I rest my chin on the backs of my wrists so my face is angled just far enough away from him that he won’t see the sudden, incomparable wave of sorrow that crashes over me and immediately drags me out to sea. But he’s right; with his mom gone, his dad gone, the farm suffering, what is there for him to do? I know how hard it is to run a flock with just one person, even if you’re lucky enough to be able to corral your animals on your own property. But that means there’s no one to split the fine with you when you lose one of your creatures.

Sentinel steps into the room, and I can see by the look on his face—as I glare suspiciously up at him—that he’s up to something, and with any luck his only agenda will be purposefully invading my space, just to make me uncomfortable. ”I think I’ll take a shower.”

I snort. ”Well good luck with that, considering we don’t have showerheads here, or did you forge—“ My words chop off like the head of a chicken on the chopping block as his shirt vanishes. I wouldn’t want to see my expression right now—trapped somewhere between shock, horror and blatant confusion, I’d wager—and I know he’s going to be laughing about that look for another week at least, if I’m lucky enough to see him again after this. Or do I want to see him? I certainly didn’t want to see--…. Oh, lord, there go the pants. Not this much of him. Certainly not this much of him. But, you know, his face would be nice to see again, later, like in a day or two….when my face stops trying to impersonate a ripe apple. Lord save me. But at least he's wearing boxers. At least.

”….stay and watch, or…?”

The look on his face is the only thing keeping me from sprinting out of that house so fast all you see is a streak of blue. That smugness, which has always had a way of getting under my skin. ”Fuck you, Sentry,” I snarl heatedly, making myself stand, even though my face has to pass….that extremely thin layer….before I can get fully to my feet. I shove him hard in the shoulders and stomp out of the room. There’s a basin full of cold water and a rag in the corner—that’s what passes for a shower out in the country. Hope he hasn’t gotten too spoiled. But, just because of that arrogant expression, I march right into the kitchen and grab a chair, returning to the hallway to jam it solidly under the knob of the door I slammed as I walked out. ”Just stay in there a while, jackass!” I shout, returning to the kitchen to rummage through the doors again. I’m hungry. ”I hope you’ve not gotten too spoiled up in the big city, because that’s all you’re getting here.” Aha!

I fall to my knees to start a fire with the matches that always hide themselves somewhere new by the end of each day, and the hearth is soon crackling with the same wicked energy as my current mood. That chair’s not going anywhere, and he’d have to climb out the window and into the snow if he wanted to get out of that room now. Now I’ll be the first to proclaim—very accurately—that if I try to cook something I’ll burn it or kill you because it’s undercooked and full of worms. But I can broil the hell out of just about anything, and I make a mean poor man’s soup. I fill a pot with snow and hang it over the fire from an iron hook, and when the water’s boiling add dried spices, some dried vegetables, and a few lean chunks of frozen meat. In pawing through the wardrobe in another room, I find Sentry’s dad’s pipe, as I left my own at home, and bring it back to the chair propped against the door. I take a seat and luxuriously pack the old pipe with the spices Sentry’s dad used to supply my dad with whenever he was lucky enough to find and harvest them while running the sheep around the mountainside. I learned to like them, too, and while I wait for the soup to mix and Sentry to get creative, I lean my head back on the top rung of the chair and let myself relax. God, I love annoying Sentry.

Except there is a small part of me, which I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to kill off, that thinks he looked pretty damn good half-naked for a city boy. Hasn't lost any of the muscle he had as a teenager, that's for sure.

I mentally punch myself in the face.

Last Edit: Jan 17, 2012 21:35:49 GMT -5 by Ena Mena Mina Mo

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 21:50:25 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 17, 2012 21:50:25 GMT -5

I instantly regret my antics. The look on her face almost floors me. I don’t even try to stop her as she locks me in. I’m ashamed of myself, really I am, but I still feel a small victory... Which then quickly vanishes once I realize she still isn’t leaving. God damn it. Got naked for nothing.

I walked up to the door, and jiggle the handle. The door doesn’t give way. She’s probably jammed it with something. I look around the room and find no escape but the window. “Shit.” Well, I guess I do deserve it for tormenting her so, but honestly, it’s what we did as kids. Why is it so different now? Why do I feel like a horses ass?

Oh. This time, I was legitimately trying to hurt her. Fuck.

I sigh and climb out the window, my body immediately tensing as it touches the snow. All the breath is sucked from my lungs and I start shivering violently. I should have put on my clothes back on, damn it all to hell. I scurry through the snow, but stop myself before entering the house. I scoop up an armful of snow, and almost drop it from the shock, but I manage to hold on to it.

I stalk into the house, and creep up the hallway. Hadena is too busy smoking my father’s pipe to notice that I am no longer in the room. Before I get to close, and she notices me, I charge her with a war cry and throw the snow over her head. My forward momentum causes me to tackle her once again, and we crash to the floor. I immediately straddle her, and grab handful of snow and start shoving them down the collar of her shirt, laughing manically all the while. "Told you, you'd need a scarf!"

I hope she accepts my apology.

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 17, 2012 22:06:42 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 17, 2012 22:06:42 GMT -5

I shake out the match and toss it in the damp sink, then close my eyes and puff contentedly on the sweet amalgamation of flavors for a moment, allowing myself to feel some satisfaction for finally managing to pull one over on him. His shoulders will never fit through those tiny windows. No way. Right? I’ve never been good at estimating size though….

A heathenish howl startles me out of my self-satisfied reverie and my eyes snap open, then pop wide with astonishment at the image of a still-mostly-naked Sentry hurtling down the hallway. But the overexposure of skin isn’t what’s got me worried this time, though. It’s the bucketload of snow he’s got stacked in his arms. I have time to let out a single shriek before he plows into me, dumping the majority of it over my head and down the neck of my scarf, the chair flying hither, and his knees thumping down on either side of my waist. I’m still howling when he grabs a handful of the stuff and throws it down my collar. Instant brainfreeze in my ribs, making my breath catch with the shock of the frigid sensation. Man, my coat was open and everything. I was enjoying myself until this buffoon decided to get friendly again.

In a desperate need to get the snow out of my shirt, where I swear I can feel the frostbite already setting in, I lift both knees, contracting my abdomen, and slam them into his back. Idiot. He should never have forgotten not to sit any higher than on someone’s hips. Their legs will get you every time. As he flies over my head, or at least off of me, I scramble to my feet, throw off the coat, hurl off the scarf and yank the bottom of my shirt out of my pants, hurriedly clawing all of the rapidly melting snow out of it. Then, growling—and, I’ll admit, enjoying myself just as much now as I was before he decided to launch an attack—I charge him. We end up on the floor tussling again as I scoop up my own handful of dropped snow. He’s way heavier than I am, but I guess he forgot that I always fight back. Or he knocked his head again when I kicked him. ”Still need a bath?” I cackle, sitting on him this time, and properly, too, and rubbing the snow into his face.

We each have our faults, Sentry and I. I can’t admit anyone else is right, and he can’t apologize. At least not in words. But the fact that we understand each other is why we get along so well even when we’re trying to kill each other. Apology accepted. At least I'd known enough not to bring the fight out into the snow, where there are endless quantities of ammunition.

Last Edit: Jan 18, 2012 22:56:12 GMT -5 by Ena Mena Mina Mo

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 18, 2012 23:29:41 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 18, 2012 23:29:41 GMT -5

I shudder violently as the snow gets shoved in my face. Somehow, Hadena and I have switched positions. I’m laying flat on my back and she is straddling me. Her hands mash snow into my face, and the extreme coldness makes my brain hurt. Blindly, I reach up and grab her upper arms, and yank her forward. With her leaning over me, I warp my arms around her and hug her to my chest, and then roll over so that she is pinned beneath me once more, but this time my body is pressed against hers. I capture her arms, and hold them above her head, so she can’t retaliate.

I stare directly into her eyes, mere centimeters away. I give her a smirk that is sure to infuriate her. “I’ve gotten a lot bigger since the last time you saw me.” I gloat. Back in the day, Hadena had been taller than me, a fact that she didn’t let me forget. Ever. The teasing had been unending. But I hit a pretty impressive growth spurt around my twentieth birthday. I now had several inches on her, another thing that is sure to infuriate her. “Look at my cute little Hadena.” I say in a baby voice, holding back a cackle. I would tweak her nose, but I was afraid to let her hand go lest she punch me in the face. “How you been, kiddo? Anybody almost step on you lately?”

Last Edit: Jan 18, 2012 23:31:42 GMT -5 by Eastern Orange

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 19, 2012 14:30:35 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 19, 2012 14:30:35 GMT -5

Sentry finds loopholes that I would never think of, as he always does, and responds not by shoving me away—as I would have expected—but by twining his arms behind me and dragging me closer instead, entirely off-balancing me because I’d been preparing myself for the exact opposite counter attack. Just like old times. If ever I somehow emerged the winner from one of our previous tussles, it was because I was still lucky enough to be either taller or faster than him. I don’t know if Sentry’s sped up since that last race, but it’s clear that I don’t have height on him anymore.

He twists and my back slams into the floor again, knocking the breath half out of me this time. I growl with frustration as he pins me down with his superior weight—another change—and he affixes my wrists to the floorboards above my head. I don’t like having my arms drawn away from my body—it makes me feel….vulnerable. Unprotected. But why would I ever need to protect myself from Sentry? He’s never harmed me. He never would. There are other feelings, too…. But as my less logical self notices the strength displayed in both his bare arms and bare legs. I imagine taking up a shovel and walloping that particular self over the head with it.

Sentry’s face is closer to mine than it usually comes. Usually came. Damn that smirk. I both love it and hate it—he only needs it when he knows he’s won, which is the enraging part. But it’s also so….so….just damn him. ”And fatter, too, you behemoth,” I retort back at him. He’s not as skinny as a grasshopper anymore. There’s a peculiar warmth starting behind me, where my hip is pressed into the floor. I see his father’s pipe lying, empty, a few feet away from us and wonder where the smoldering cinders I’d packed it with have gone.

Sentry’s voice reaches for a higher pitch, one that I have always detested in anyone foolish enough to use it. Baby and animal talk. I hate it. And this he knows quite well, since I used to make a point, whenever I had to listen to someone pitch their voice that high, pitch my own as low as I could when I next found the opportunity to talk to a child or animal. It was something that used to make us both laugh. And he used the word ‘cute’, damn him again! I hate that word. More than any other word currently in use. Or ever in use in the history of humankind. ”Anybody almost step on you lately?”

”Only because I chopped them all off at the knees and they tripped,” I growled, still straining to either throw him off or at least free my hands. I stretched up with my head tilted back to bite at his wrists. So I fight dirty. It’s the only way to ever win with him, really. ”Too bad I can’t truthfully call you ‘cricket’ anymore, Nell.” Back when he used to be short and squeaky, when his voice was still changing and crackling, it had been a very accurate moniker. He’s clearly not going anywhere, and obviously enjoying himself far too much for my own happiness. ”When are you going to be satisfied and let me up?” I demand, scowling up at him, though I must admit that I, too, am amused. But only a tiny, tiny bit. A small amount. The size of a spider cough. I squirm. ”I think I’m laying in something that’s burning.” I look over at the pipe again, eyes narrowed, and continue to struggle, even though I know every time I try and fail to sit up it’s only adding to his own entertainment. But that small warmth has grown into a burning sensation…. It contrasts confusingly with the not unpleasant, but peculiar, crawling sensation deep in my stomach. The tiny, barely lucid part of myself that I whacked with a shovel mutters that I should just stop fighting, because it's not so bad lying here with our chests pressed together. What is this?

I relax for just a moment with an irritated sigh, hoping for him to think he’s won, and then lunge up again to snap at his wrist a second time.

Last Edit: Jan 19, 2012 14:37:25 GMT -5 by Ena Mena Mina Mo

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 19, 2012 22:47:42 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 19, 2012 22:47:42 GMT -5

“Fat?” I make a pouty face by sticking out my bottom lip and crinkling my forehead. I look at her with wounded eyes. I am totally unfazed by her attempts at escape. I feel it about as much as a window feels a moth. “I’m nothing of the sort” I scoff. My mouth widens into a wolfish grin, and instead of hurt I look mischievous. “Hmmm, how shall I get payback for hurting me so? You are here, trapped, and so very vulnerable; I could literally do anything.” I cackle. “Tell me Hadena,” I say with a pragmatic air. “Are you still…” I pause for effect, “Ticklish?!” I shout, and lightening fast my fingers are dancing on the spots just under her rib cage.

I do my best to dodge her flailing appendages, but I get here and there. I laugh manically, merciless. But when she moves a bit to the side, a see the burning remains of the spices. “Oh shit!” I exclaim, and grab her and yank her away from the smoldering pile. I do it in such a way that I kind of flail us about, and somehow I end up on my back, and I’m holding Hadena above me… And my hands are grabbing her chest. My face immediately floods scarlet. I clear my throat. “You call me fat? Look at this! Got some extra weight about the chest region. When did you get boobies, girl?” That would probably be the last joke I ever make, as Hadena is going to murder me.

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 19, 2012 23:09:18 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 19, 2012 23:09:18 GMT -5

His fingers skittering over my rips are torturous, and because of this I shriek like a kestrel, but thankfully it only lasts a few moments when he realizes I wasn’t kidding about the spilled cinders from the pipe. He quickly draws me away, quick enough that I’m too startled to be able to catch myself when he stumbles away too quickly and lands flat on his back on the cool floorboards. I tumble forward, trying to get to my feet and failing, and fall clumsily into the hands he’s raised to catch me, gasping with surprise.

When we both realize where those hands plant themselves, though—my own landed on his stomach, and probably knocked the wind out of him—our faces both turn to match the flashing hues of a cardinal’s crest. Half-chuckling in an awkward fashion, Sentry does what he always does. He makes a joke. ”When did you get boobies, girl?”

I flail, knocking his hands aside and pushing myself hurriedly to my feet. ”The same time you found your penis on a tree in the woods! You’re supposed to let go when you grope someone on accident, you man-whore,” I say loudly, torn between frustration, shock and amusement. The amusement—due entirely to the astonished look on his face when he caught me—is what saves his ass from a severe beating. It also proves that it was indeed an accident, which is also a factor in my allowing him to live. ”Get up,” I sigh then, rolling my eyes and kicking him lightly in the hip, but harder than I usually would have as a reprimand for not placing his hands in a more prudent position. ”And for crying out loud, go put some pants on!” I yank up the side of my shirt and feel blindly behind my hip for the burn. It’s gone right through the fabric, unfortunately, and I can feel the soft fuzz of cotton fibers sticking to my burnt—but not terribly, thank goodness—skin.

As I rummage around in the kitchen drawers for a pair of tweezers, also checking on the motley stew I’m trying not to set on fire, I say to him, ”I hope you realize how lucky you are that you aren’t as good at controlling your face as I am.” I chortle. Because I then never would have known whether or not he’d done it on purpose. Since he kissed me, I feel like I can’t know what intentions he might have settled behind that laughing, smirking face and quick hands of his. I wouldn’t have known if he’d done it on purpose, and to make up for not knowing, I would have flayed his rear just in case. Poor guy. I find the tweezers and hold them out to him, leaning my hands against the edge of the sink and staring out the window, where the rest of the world is slowly darkening with nightfall. ”Help me get the strings out, will you? I can’t see.” I’m almost as good with my left hand as my right, something I suspect annoys him for some reason, but even I can’t help myself with even a small injury that I can’t put my eyes to. My sense of touch isn’t that good, and the rope burns latticing my hands and fingers don’t help as far as fine sensory skills go.

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)

Eastern Orange
Career Tribute

[M:-100]

527 POSTS
last seen Apr 19, 2019 19:32:23 GMT -5

"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 22, 2012 20:45:16 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jan 22, 2012 20:45:16 GMT -5

“Why would I need to put pants on? I’m not making you nervous, am I?” I mean it rhetorically, and don’t wait for her to reply. I get to my feet and wade through the disaster that is the hall, and go into my mother’s room, closing the door behind me. I pull on my clothes quickly, feeling weird about leaving Hadena alone in my house. I’m about to leave, when I notice a paper peeking out from under the bed. For some reason, I feel an extreme urge to read it. I bend over and pick it up, it has the old remains of dream catchers on it, so I’m guessing that it was in that box, and I didn’t notice it when I dumped it out.

It’s thick paper, yellowed with age, and folded in half. I go over the desk in the corner and sit down. I lay the paper down, and unfold it, smoothing down the crease with my hand. I have this mildly queasy feeling, like I’m going to find out something bad. Maybe I’m just anxious. I peer at the shaky writing, recognizing it as my mother’s. It’s a letter, and it’s addressed to me. I lean closer, having a hard time deciphering the faded ink.

Dearest Sentinel,

I haven’t had the chance to write you in a long time, and for that I’m sorry. There have been some complications.

I’m sick, honey, and it’s different this time. I don’t think I have long. It might already be too late by the time you read this letter. I just wanted you to know that I love you so very much, dear. I don’t think I told you that often enough. You will never know how important you were to me. You were the only reason I had left to live, and I’m so sorry I had to put that on your shoulders. I took away your childhood, Sentry, and I will never forgive myself for that.

That’s why I had to let you go. I could see what my sadness was doing to you. You were my protector, my sentinel, when I should have been yours. I was smothering your light, dear boy. Those last years, you were so listless and cynical, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to make you go. I had to say some horrible things to you to get you to leave, and I’ve hated myself ever since.

You can’t come back, Sentry. I don’t know what you are doing in that city, but you have a chance to better your life there. You were always too good for this life, too good to have a mother that was bedridden for most of your life. I’m sorry I couldn’t provide you with all the opportunities that other children had, I couldn’t give you the life that you deserved.

You need to stay in the city, Sentry. I’m going to die whether you’re here or not, and I can’t stand to let you see me this way. I couldn’t watch you suffer all those years ago, and I can’t watch you suffer now. We said a proper goodbye, and that’s the memory I want you to have of me. I’m being taken care of here, so you don’t need to worry about me. I want you to live your life.

I will always love you,
Mom

I sit staring at the letter for a long time, the words blurred with unshed tears. She must have written it just before father left to come get me, and she never got the chance to send it. How could she not want me here? I mean, she said so herself, I was her only reason to live. Why would she tell me stay away?! Did she actually think that I would listen to her? Did she think I was such a terrible person to not see my dying mother?

And to say she wasn’t good enough for me…

I clutch at my chest, trying to stanch the pain that radiated from my heart. I never knew that she felt that way. I should have tried hard. I should have pushed myself to smile after Hadena had left me. I should have fought harder to stay. I shouldn’t have left for so long. She shouldn’t have felt this way. Why did I let her feel that way?

I rub my eyes and realize that the aforementioned unfallen tears had definitely started falling, and were running rives down my cheeks. I clench my teeth, making a conscious effort to calm down, instead I feel anger rear it’s ugly head. I stand up so fast, the chair goes skittering backwards. I grab the side of the desk, really just a glorified table, and fling it backwards, sending inkwells, papers, pens, and other assorted things flying. Ah, that felt good. Really good. I stare at the upended table, and my anger slowly abates, leaving me feeling empty and breathing heavy.

I take a shuddering breath and place my face in my hands. What am I doing here? Mom didn’t want me here. Dad only wanted me here because he didn’t want to deal with mom. And Hadena… Well, she hasn’t spoken to me in six years. But, there is not anything in the city for me, either. If I don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in the city, then where do I go?

I hear Hadena moving around in the kitchen. I had forgotten she was here. I don’t think I can go out there and face her. When mom said ‘I’m being taken care of here…’, she was talking about Hadena, which meant that she was okay of Hadena seeing her, but she wasn’t okay with me seeing her. Why would that be? Did I make her feel terrible about herself?

Now that I’ve had a second alone, I realize that I’m letting myself forgive Hadena. I also realize that I’m acting happy on the day of my mother’s funeral. This is what Hadena does. She has the ability to get me to forget about everything, but her. It’s like we are in our own little world when we are together. I don’t want to forget that I hate her, or that my mom just died, and I definitely don’t want to forget that my mother chose her over me.

I can’t do it anymore. I look at the window still standing open, and I immediately make my way over to it, and climb through. It only takes me a few minutes to slog through the snow and make it up the hill to my mom’s grave. I lay down, and hug my knees to my chest, not paying any attention to the snow. I was already so fucking cold, that it didn’t really bother me.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper brokenly. “I should have been a better son to you.” I wish I had been enough for my mother, but I never was. She just couldn't forget about the two she lost. If only she had been able to move on, what would my life had been like?

Ena Mena Mina Mo
Hunter

76 POSTS
last seen May 20, 2012 9:37:20 GMT -5

The late mouse gets the cheese.

Burning Bridges [Ena] Jan 22, 2012 21:06:47 GMT -5

Post by Ena Mena Mina Mo on Jan 22, 2012 21:06:47 GMT -5

I heard the crashing and recognized easily the sound of wood breaking, coming from his mother’s room. Temperamental as a summer storm, Sentry was. But what had caused the sudden rage this time? I jumped when I heard doors slam, my hands clenching around the tweezers I’d finally managed to find. Slowly I put them down. I watched him march through the near-darkness up toward his mother’s grave.

Before I left, I righted the desk, but I didn’t clean up the mess it had made. Sentry could take care of himself, I told myself. I wasn’t his housemaid, and I didn’t need to take care of him. He’d probably just resent me for babying him. I took the soup off the fire and left it sitting on a cutting board so the counter wouldn’t burn and hoped he’d be back in time to eat it while it was still warm. Then I put the tweezers away, left his gloves and scarf folded on the table, and went home. It took me an hour to get all the small burnt strings out of my skin, since I couldn’t see any of them, but eventually I just prayed I wouldn’t get an infection and went to bed. There was nothing more I could do. Not tonight. Not for Sentry.

Hadena Erynnis Sonoran (22yrs, D10)
Astor Blue Yellowfin (16yrs, D4)