Sparks Will Fly [Wish]

Wish !
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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 14, 2012 19:26:37 GMT -5

Post by Wish ! on Jul 14, 2012 19:26:37 GMT -5

Generally, Monroe would have fled at this point. Too much kindness felt smothering to the young woman and always forced her suspiscions to arise before anyone had a chance to get to know her. With this Prometheus character though, he'd struck a chord within her that she had no true understanding of. And for the first time in her life, she felt some sort of comfort pulsing inside her. Not only that, but she figured, if he had already fixed her hand and explained something so strange and foreign to her, she may as well enjoy some sort of meal with him at the very least. Whose going to pass up a free hot meal? She thought to herself, not daring to mention that just the thought of warm food made her salivate immensely. Monroe Axton may not have known anything about sex or intimacy, but she certainly knew plenty about starvation and fending for herself. And where, pray tell, is the kitchen? She asked, maintaining her cocky attitude despite her thoughts of gratitude mixed with hunger.

Prometheus' question halted Monroe in her tracks, mid-step even. Turning to face him she bit the inside of her cheek while her eyes held onto his, refusing to break contact. I wouldn't say wanderer, I'm just ... I'm Monroe. She finally said, letting out a low sigh waiting for any sort of reaction. For her, speaking her own name out loud felt almost like speaking in tongues. The last time she'd spoken her name it was to a judge, appealing to release her from a correctional facility for theft. And that had been several years earlier, the twenty year old had long since learned that in order to be a good criminal, she was never to be caught. Biting at her lower lip and staring at the ground for a moment the hint of a smile crossed her supple lips. It faded quickly from her expression, remaining in her eyes, as she looked back up. Monroe Axton. And .. I simply take care of myself. I belong to no one. She stated, waiting for some sort of fight on her independance though, deep inside her mind and heart, she could feel he was not going to attempt anything of the sort on her. In fact, the vibrations she felt through the air while he stood there with her, they were different than the ones she felt when he discussed his 'acolytes.' Nibbling at her thumb's cuticle for a moment she broke the gaze and entered the first door on her right, not caring where it went as long as it help dissipate the flush in her cheeks she felt rising whenever their eye contact lasted a bit too long. Kindness and comfort for a short time was one thing, unfamiliar emotions that made her heart race? Those were not allowed, at least, that's what she told herself.

So who are these people you take care of? What is this 'Illuminator' bit you have going on? She questioned, running her fingertips along several dusty shelves, her eyes adjusting to lack of candle or moonlight. Goosebumps raised along her flesh, something that had occured only a handful of times in her life. Fear shot through her veins like a firework and instantly she turned back the way she came, about to dart at full speed. But rather than meet with an empty doorway, her small body flew against the chest of Prometheus, and for several seconds she halted, stuck and terrified for no apparent reason than her intuition was suddenly screaming at her to be afraid. And then, she felt his heartbeat on her palm that rested on his chest, calm slowly creeping through her. You are strange. She murmured, several seconds passed before she jerked her hand away and stepped away. Confusion written all over her delicate features.

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 15, 2012 17:21:57 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jul 15, 2012 17:21:57 GMT -5

Monroe. He favored her with a brilliant smile. “Monroe. It suits you. It’s pretty, but it isn’t at all girly or frilly. It’s sturdy. Strong.” He nodded, realizing that he had actually been a bit apprehensive. He had been afraid that she’d rebuke his question once again. It felt good to finally be able to think her name. Monroe. Still smiling, he cocked his head to the side in an attentive manner. “Of course you belong to yourself. Who else would you belong to?” He said as if it was blatantly obvious, but of course it wasn’t. There were people out there that wanted nothing more than to give their entire being to someone else. It’s called love, and Prometheus surmised that she knew as little about love as she did about sex.

Meekus turned into the doorway that Monroe had just disappeared into, stopping just a few steps in. He watched her, evaluated her, trying to decide if he could trust her with the answers she sought. He was protective of his followers and religion; he didn’t go around handing out their secrets like candy to children. He didn’t divulge anything unless he thought he’d gain a member by doing so. Was she someone to take into the fold? Probably not. She did announce that she belonged to no one, and it hand rang with a note finality. Being in the Fellowship required a certain amount of devotion to the moon as well as your fellows. Is she willing to give herself to a belief? To the moon? He could answer that question already: No. But he would try, anyway. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want Monroe around for longer than just this stormy night. Besides, she was alone in the world. Who would she tell of them?

“I illuminate the darkness.” He said softly, just as she turned toward him and tried to evacuate the room. She hit his chest with a solid thump, but he was undisturbed. She stayed in his close proximity, her hand placed delicately on his chest. His pulse jumped in response to the very feminine body pressed against his, but he squashed any heated thought with a decisive growl. He stood stalk still, until she stepped back and declared him strange. Breathing easier now that she had put space between them, he bestowed her with a very male, very self-assured smile that was borderline predatory; the one he had been unable to conjure up before. “You’re throwing yourself into my arms, and I’m the strange one?” He teased silkily. He realized what he was doing, and wiped the expression off his face, replacing it with a carefully neutral smile. He should not be flirting. No. It was against the rules. His rules.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and stirred her out of the room, returning the way they came, the correct direction for the kitchen. “I live here with my followers. I am their Illuminator. I show them the way of the moon, and lead them on a path toward the Zenith. We are a very devoted people.” That was putting it rather mildly. He removed his hand from Monroe’s shoulder (reluctantly) and pushed up the sleeve to reveal his lightly toned bicep. Jagged lines decorated the pale flesh, angry ridges that spoke of a dull knife and improper care. There were six in total. “The symbol of my standing within our community and a visualization of my devotion to the moon. We have many rituals and rules to show our devotion, and to prove that we are worthy of salvation. Abstinence from sex, drugs, and other indulgences, as well as receiving cuts, is just two among many.” He rubbed the spot just under his collar bone on his left side, the site of a brand in the shape of a circle; another ritual. “Though, not everyone here is one of my acolytes. I also harbor anyone who needs a dry place to stay, and food in their stomach.” No he didn’t. He did for a day or two, but he always sent anyone who wasn’t a believer packing. But, he’d make an exception for this girl. He didn’t want to ruminate on why he’d do that, because he had no clue. But he’d still let this girl stay as long as she wanted.

ooc: I don't feel like coding. :P

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 15, 2012 22:01:36 GMT -5

Post by Wish ! on Jul 15, 2012 22:01:36 GMT -5

A soft smile spread across her lips as Prometheus analyzed her name. At least he hadn't attempted to use it as a tool against her or tried to make it his own. He simply let it hover between them, strong. Narrowing her brows at his question, Monroe pondered for a moment. She'd spent so long running from the Capitol, from her past, from the world, that she had never stopped to wonder which of them it was that was trying to own her exactly. Surely you know the world is only out to own it's inhabitants. She responded. Everyone I've ever encountered is all about possession, about power. Absent mindedly she traced patterns in the dust covered marble before her; circles, arrows, squares, the sort of shapes with no particular meaning. But unlike any other girl, there were no hearts in her midst of doodles.

What is his angle? She thought to herself, her eyes taking in the darkness around her and adjusting quickly. One of those many survivalist techniques she'd learned so long ago. And at the same time she wondered such a thing, Monroe had also had to consider the feelings that she was having. First of all, having any sort of feeling towards a stranger was odd in and of itself. But these ones, they terrified her though the raven haired fighter would never admit to such things. And then he had to totally thrust her into confusion by stating that he, in fact, illuminated the darkness. What the f... She began to think, and then she found herself against his chest, backing far more slowly than her immediate nature intended. Were I throwing myself anywhere, it would be out the window Illuminator. She stated, though the tint of humor found it's way into her tone before she had a chance to stop it. Despite the distance she'd made between them in a matter of seconds, Monroe could still feel her flesh flaming from the feeling of being against him, from his warmth; and his heartbeat was pounding through her like some sort of lullaby.

Rather than fight his touch, Monroe allowed Prometheus to steer her from the room, her flesh seering at his touch though she could not comprehend why. Only one word, one he had taught her in fact, could describe it. Desire? The thought planted itself in her mind and began to grow quickly, but through the pounding in her heart Monroe forced herself to listen to his words. Only catching some of it herre and there, something about the moon and Zenith and devotion. Raising a brow she turned around to face him a mere foot or two away. Before the woman spoke, Prometheus began to roll up his sleeve, revealing scars that would never be healed, not even by the greatest talents in all of Panem. Bridging the gap between them as he spoke Monroe placed her fingertips on his arm, tracing each individual scar tenderly with bated breath. Why he would harm himself over his beliefs ... She could not know or understand, but the pain they must have caused at the time caused some sort of ache to stir deep within herself. But it was not the slice marks on his arm that struck her the most, i t was the circular brand beneath his collar bone. Without a second thought Monroe lifted herself onto her tip toes, pressing her lips softly in the center of the brand. Settling herself down softly Ms. Axton could feel her heart racing at all she'd just learned, not even bothering to notice her fingertips remained on the scars of his arm. I can feel the pain, the memory... She murmured regarding his marks, not wanting to mention anything regarding intense beliefs. That was a subject the woman could not even comprehend.

Biting her lip Monroe glanced down and instantly jerked her hand away. I .. I did not intend to invade your space. Were the words that fled her lips before she knew what else to say. So many thoughts and new learnings were swirling about her mind at once that it was almost impossible for her to catch her breath. Why? Was all she managed to whisper whilst her eyes caught sight of his brands, his scars, his devotion, once more.

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 15, 2012 23:25:21 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jul 15, 2012 23:25:21 GMT -5

Prometheus shivered at the light touch on his arm. He wasn’t touched. Ever. His acolytes revered him, most of them anyway, and kept a respectable distance. He of course would touch them; a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a touch on the forehead for a blessing, so on. But being the recipient of a touch is a whole different story than the one doing the touching. Monroe had touched him just a few moments ago, but this was different. This was skin on skin, and well as being deliberate. He froze, like he did previously, not wanting to encourage anything, but not trying to stop it either. He tried not to enjoy the feathery feeling of her fingers on his skin, feeling as if even that were a violation of his belief. I don’t want to embarrass the girl by throwing her off. He justified his unwillingness to put a stop to the situation.

He sucked in a breath when Monroe drew closer, standing on her tippy toes to place a kiss on the nasty scorch mark that marred his chest. At the feel of her lips on his bare skin, desire flashed through Meekus like it hadn’t for some years. He almost groaned. He almost wrapped her in his arms. He almost ducked his head to kiss her back. Almost, but he caught himself. Since he wouldn’t let himself feel desire, he let himself feel anger instead.

Prometheus tensed, and bared his teeth in a look of contempt. His eyes grew cold and distant, detached. A number of harsh rebukes jumped to his lips, but he held his tongue, unwilling to rain his formidable anger down on the misled girl. “Why would you do such a stupid thing?” He hissed. “Have you not been listening? Did you not see my anger against that couple?” He was seething, angrier than he had been previously. He did not understand why her rather mild affections would inspire more anger than the very devious acts committed by his acolytes earlier that night. Maybe it was just frustration of the sexual nature. Probably it was because he wanted what he knew he shouldn’t, and could never have. “Are you trying to throw everything I believe in my face? Make me a hypocrite and undermine my authority with my followers? What are you after?” He had at last reigned in his anger, and traded in a harsh tone with a cold, disdainful one. “Perhaps it would be better if you just left right now.” He said, before he could stop himself. He crossed his arms, as if that would harden his resolve.

He now realized that he had been stupid in wanting to keep her here. It had been for purely selfish reasons. Why would he want to keep such a temptation around? What had he been thinking? Still, if she wanted somewhere to stay, he shouldn’t throw her out so coldly. And now that he had said that, he was quickly feeling guilty, suddenly unsure if his anger was even justified. What if she had simply been trying to connect to someone, and wasn’t sure how. I just brushed her off like some disgusting insect! He suddenly felt terrible, and wished everything unsaid. Maybe I projected my own wants onto her, and she was simply being kind… I mean, why would she even been attracted to a bitter man like me? There’s something seriously wrong with me.

Prometheus rubbed a hand through his amber-tinted hair, suddenly feeling his vast lack of sleep. “I apologize.” His voice was wary, but sincere. “I have not slept in at least two days and thinking clearly is not something I’m able to do at the moment. And I’m on edge because it’s a full moon and I’m unable to perform my ritual for the second time in a row, and I feel like it’s some sign that –” He stopped, realizing he was rambling. He tried a different track. “You surprised me is all. I am not the recipient of much affection around here…”

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 15, 2012 23:49:23 GMT -5

Post by Wish ! on Jul 15, 2012 23:49:23 GMT -5

The last time Monroe had felt someone else's flesh her brother had been tattooing an anchor to her hand, a small imprint to memorize one another right before he was reaped. She'd never kissed anyone, hugged anyone, touched anyone, much less felt the pain from their scars whether they were self inflicted or not. The most emotion she'd ever shown towards another human being regarded only children and young mothers who had no one else to help them. And even in that sense, Monroe still managed to keep her distance, never thought there was anything to love. If nothing else, she simply did not believe in love, that anyone could truly care for another soul in a completely selfless matter. Yet, upon touching his flesh, feeling her heart begin to race just a bit faster than normal, goosebumps traveling from her hands across the canvas of her body, Monroe wasn't sure of anything anymore. Whatever it was that Prometheus had felt when he'd created those scars, marring his body beyond repair, she felt it too, and she had no idea of how to react. This, in itself, was her justification for kissing the permanent wound, for letting her fingertips linger longer than necessary. And throughout the moment that seemed to last years, Monroe could feel conflict build within this man just as powerfully as it was building up within herself.

As soon as her lips grazed the flesh of the scar of his collarbone, fire flared through Monroe like she'd never understood, and for several seconds the twenty year old woman could swear it was pulsating through him just as intensely. What she expected? She had absolutely no idea, in fact, it was an action that had taken of her being before she'd had a chance to really calculate the consequences. For the very first time in her few years on earth, she had acted before she had thought. Desire She thought again, attempting to make sense of the concept. But it did not take long for her goosebumps to deminish, for her heart to slow down to normal once she felt the air tense around them. I ... It was ... Reactionary. She spoke softly, not apologizing for she truly felt no remourse for stealing some bit of affection that she had never attempted before. If he wanted to 'punish' her somehow for her actions, let him try, Monroe was not one to just lie down and cry about something. Every action had a reaction, this was his to hers. I think ... I think I wanted to feel what you felt. Her tone was soft, her words more earnest than she wanted to share. Narrowing her exprsesion to almost resemble a cunning fox Monroe glared at the man standing before her. I do not need followers to know I'm powerful. I do not need anyone else to determine what I live for and believe. So, if you're an all powerful man, Master Illuminator Than how on earth can the simple action of a stranger undermine your authority? Her words were tinged with a snarl, a fight waiting to happen. And despite his harsh treatment, her guard remained half way down, her curiosity peaked.

Catching his eyes in the dim light of the corridor Monroe nodded at his words. After all, she did not need him to care for her, she did not need his shelter. Then that's what I'll do, thank you for stitching my palm. With a light nod in his direction she turned, her heart thumping in her chest yet again. And just as she took the first few steps his voice resounded yet again, softer. Turning slowly, her head tilted downward, she measured her gaze with his. Those chocolate and blue eyes staring straight into his. Don't apologize for feelings that are your own. She responded, casting her eyes out towards the full moon that was half covered by dark clouds and rain. I've never given affection before ... I surprised us both. Was her calm response. Stepping closer to him she reached her hand out forward, forcing herself to stop several feet away to halt the urges inside her that were evidently wrong, and sighed. I'll try this once more, though I do not know why. With a deep breath she caught his eyes yet again. I'm Monroe Axton.

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 16, 2012 0:41:02 GMT -5

Post by Eastern Orange on Jul 16, 2012 0:41:02 GMT -5

“That’s the thing, those were not my feelings.” He said resigned, rubbing his eyes with one hand like he could wipe away the swirling mass of confused emotion from his mind. “Very far from it.” He grumbled, almost resentfully. He sighed heavily, took away his hand to focus his crystalline eyes on her own. “You don’t understand.” He said firmly. “It was more than a simple act, and even if it was, that’s not what it would look like to someone else. And if that someone else was one of my followers, who I have warned not engage in activities like that and who I would punish if they did, then it would invalidate everything I’ve ever said to them. If I don’t follow what I preach, how can they? This is everything to me, it’s all I have, and you could have very easily shattered all that.” He spoke fervently, desperate to get his point across so this wouldn’t happen again. “I’m not in this for power,” he curled his lip at the word, “And frankly I’m offended you’d think that. I simply want to share my beliefs with people.” He stared her down, making sure she comprehended what he was saying. “And stop using my title, unless you plan to lance your arm, brand your chest, and join my fellowship. My name is Prometheus.”

Only after he was done with his little speech, did he close the distance between then and take her outstretched hand in his own. He didn’t shake it, as was custom, he simply held her hand in his. Much to his concern, her hand was rather cold. He brought his other hand up to envelope hers completely, lending his warmth. He focused on her clothing, but couldn’t discern anything in the dark. Hesitantly, he took one of his hands and lightly brushed it with his fingertips. It was damp. Dismayed he rested his hand on her back. It, too, was wet. She was wearing a tank top, so he had not noticed when he had grabbed her shoulder, before. He cursed, mentally kicking himself for not realizing before that she was walking around wet. “Are you cold?” He asked abruptly, concern wrinkling his brow. A lowered body temperature would make it easier for an infection to set in.

He took both his hands and rubbed her shoulders, warming her through friction. He briefly remembered the jacket she had been wearing when they first met. It had been soaked through when she had taken it off and slung it over a shelf in the supply closet. He was an idiot to have forgotten. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He scolded. He himself was only wearing a long sleeve shirt, no sweater to offer her. “You are more likely to get an infection from that cut if you are cold. You immune system is not running at its best!” They’d have to forsake the kitchen for now. He had to get her into dry clothing before anything else. Without getting her consent, he gripped her cold hand and abruptly changed direction. He bounded up a staircase and headed to the mostly abandoned west wing. His were the only rooms on this side of the building, all his followers were stowed away in the east wing.

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Sparks Will Fly [Wish] Jul 22, 2012 0:44:06 GMT -5

Post by Wish ! on Jul 22, 2012 0:44:06 GMT -5

He was beyond strange. He was someone she could not put a description to; putting it lightly, Prometheus intrigued her. The tall, blonde man appealed to something within her that she just could not wrap her mind around. As he spoke her eyes held onto the circular mark she'd kissed, her lips almost on fire from touching another's flesh. Tilting her head to her side as he finished speaking for a moment before smirking ever so slightly. "And what on earth would I be branding myself for?" Fellowship? She wondered before shaking her head, leveling her eyes with his. "I already told you, no one owns me, much less a fellowship. Though I do admit, you interest me." Her words were spoken softly, in no way did she intend on insulting him at this moment. How could she when he spoke of his beliefs with the same fervor she used when speaking of her freedom.

Rather than answer his question with words, Monroe shrugged, cold be damned. There was nothing within the twenty year old woman's prideful being that would allow her to verbally admit that she was ignoring her dropping temperature as the seconds passed. "It's not your place to warm me." She stated softly, casting her eyes outside towards the lightning lit forest that surrounded their shelter. His next statement caught her off guard, forcing her to stare at him, open-mouthed, for several seconds before she blinked and responded. Before her words escaped her lips Monroe found herself being dragged about the dark, ancient hospital, her eyes memorizing the route 'just-in-case.' As they entered a particular room the raven-woman could not help but notice that there were no other's around, she could not even sense the presence of the other's that she'd sensed whilst they'd been stitching her hand in the closet or conversing in the kitchen. "I'm going to safely say this is your room." The words were quiet, simple, whilst she took in everything. Simple candlelight leaving a dim glow that almost, almost, cast of a romantic aura. However, since that was not an emotion Monroe Rain Axton was familiar with, such a mood was completely lost on her.

Watching him search for clothing Monroe began biting at her thumb cuticle, almost nervous but not quite. Whatever feelings he'd welled up within her, they were strange. And they way he spoke, it was more than obvious that he knew how to manipulate speech and work his way into someone's mind. But the way he did it, the way his eyes shifted along her special ones, she could feel how different she was. What reasons, she could not even begin to understand, after all, the pain in her hand had begun to throb and shivers were beginning to take over despite her determination to stand tall, pretend to be warm, and handle herself without help. It seemed, without her permission, sometimes everyone needs help. "You don't ... Fuck it, Thank you." She murmured, still nibbling at her thumbnail just as his eyes caught her --- And it was almost as if her entire being caught fire. With delibrately slow motions, Monroe peeled off the sopping tank top and jeans. Disregarding that this may cause some more fire between them, after all, what was sex to a woman who had just discovered it? For her this was simply preparing for whatever he had for. Hanging her clothing off a nearby chair, she stood and caught his eye.

`