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Old 04-28-2008 at 06:30 PM
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f r a n c o n i ' s . s t a b l e s
The stables of the former Paris Opera House were not so much underground, but beneath the Opera House opening up to where a small village used to home. On the other side of the stables was a passageway leading to the lair of the Phantom as legend says. History books say that Erik used to move constantly to and from his lair to the stables, stealing horses and using them for his master plans. The stables are anything but gorgeous now; hardly any light shines through and in several of the derelict stalls lay horse bones and artifacts.

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Pearce Rowe

The little black book hadn't merited even the slightest of glances. The strangely colored eyes of the girl remained locked stubbornly with his own black orbs, refusing to be distracted by whatever little bits of information or casual conversation he tried to throw at her. He broke the connection of their gazes momentarily in order to glance at the vague darkness of scars that danced over her skin. Pearce then looked into her eyes again, the expression on his face losing a hint of its previous coyness, replacing it with seriousness. He saw the way her muscles tightened against her bones, joints squaring in what psychologists called a "fight-or-flight" response. As of now he couldn't yet decide which course of action she would pick first...if she was the type to flee, or if she had another trick up her sleeve. Pearce was enough of a misogynist to think that women very rarely had tricks up their sleeves, but he wasn't stupid: This girl was spitfire.

Finally, with her lips curling back in a snarl, she replied, "Who are you trying to fool?" Pearce's expression didn't overtly change; instead something flickered in the depth of his ebony irises, brief but noticeable. Her voice had transformed into an animalistic growl, bringing to mind his previous comparison to a wildcat. The image was no less tempting than it had been previously. "I can see straight through that stupid little act you're putting on." Though his eyes remained steady on her face, he caught out of the corner of his peripheral vision a movement of her arm, her hand twitching as it stayed poised over a pocket of her jeans.

Pearce wasn't sure if he was more annoyed or secretly more relieved by the sudden lack of need for pretenses. He settled on a balance between the two, a patronizingly superior expression slowly dawning on his face. In the depths of his eyes, however, there was a hardened, dangerous gleam manifesting with slow precision. He could only guess what it was that she was guarding so protectively in her pocket, so Pearce felt it only fair that he even the score a bit. In an almost mocking parody of those cop movies in which a police officer "subtly" reveals the fact that he's armed, Pearce adjusted his jacket, moving the hem back a bit so that the butt of his Smith & Wesson was visible. He kept his gaze firmly latched with her own, a tiny, humorless smile quirking his lips for a quick moment. "Just as long as we understand each other," he replied, his voice low and full of insinuation. "You could try to be a bit more amiable." Pearce's feet carried him a step closer. "I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility." Another stride brought him nearer. "Yet."


♦ so why did you bawl from the spell of some old holy song? ♦

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Old 04-29-2008 at 01:20 AM
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Rose Lee Peace

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, spitting fire when she saw the butt of his gun. Yep. Just like Juan, came the thought.

"Just as long as we understand each other," he said suggestively. A mocking smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"You should really meet an old aquaintance of mine; Juan Miguel de Silva. Yeah, you two would get along great," came the acid reply.

The man took a step closer, and Rose shifted away from him. "You could try to be a bit more amiable. I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility..." He said, taking another step, a tiny smile on his face. "Yet."

Rose's mouth and expression twisted, her lips pulling back over her gleaming white teeth, resembling a wolf's grimace. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" she snarled menacingly. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest availiable object, and that's a promise!" she snapped. There was no way in Hell she was going to have to endure being raped again, and she'd go at any lenghts to make sure of it.

"You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means," she snarled again, ready to attack.


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Old 05-03-2008 at 03:12 AM
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Phoenix Mercer

Oh no... That had been her first thought when her cellphone had started ringing. Phoenix always carried her phone. But in the time since she had left home she had only used it once. This small electronic device was her concession to her parents concerns. She had gotten it on the understanding that it was to be used for emergencies only. She would contact and update them to her travels when and if she could. If they abused it they knew she would turn it off. But she hadn't turned it off because she knew this call was coming. Every day since the gala she had expected it. So when the metallic ring started as she carried an arm load of props to the stage, Phoenix didn't have to guess why they were calling. She ignored the tone, rushed to the stage and unceremonious dropped her armload. Then, ignoring the perpetual tone rushed to a quieter place. Finally she found herself in the seldom used stables and cringed as the ringing began again.

“Hello,” she said trying to speak softly with out whispering even thought she was alone, a dead giveaway that she was hiding something. “Phoenix Orris Nirvana Mercer,” the cold of the stables around her was nothing compared to the chill that ricocheted through her at the sound of her full name from her mother’s lips in the disturbingly calm tone she only used when she was gearing up for a major fight and was trying not to lose her temper to soon. That was actually a trick Phoenix wished she had mastered, she had her inherited her mother’s temper and willingness to fight, but not this ability to keep it in check, though it didn’t fool her even slightly and she pulled her bare legs up into the chair holding them close and preparing herself for one of the less fun conversations of her life. “Mrs. Brannock sends her reguards,” her mother said in a mockingly flippant tone and before she could stop herself Phoneix retorted, “That old gossip? What does she want—“ she closed her eyes and groaned silently having just answered her own question and able to hear her mother’s victorious expression.

“Well…” she said drawing out the word as though preparing to launch her opening statement, “it seems like she’s not the only gossip on the planet who would have a few words for you. Can you imagine our surprise when she tells us how surprised she was to see you in a designer dress, and then casual mentions that it was only half as surprising as seeing you in a dead man’s cheating arms.” Phoenix’s eyes bugged slightly as her jaw and her stomach dropped. The only thing that kept her from snapping back in Luc’s defense was the fact that it would only exacerbate the problem . “Mother,” she said through gritted teeth, “don’t you think there’s a bit more to it than that?” she challenged. “Oh, I’m well aware,” she replied her calm starting to waver, “I had quite an interesting morning reading all about, though I admit I was a bit distracted by the pictures of you cramming your tongue down his throat in front of half of the Parisian press!” Phoenix had to pull the phone away from her head slightly as her phone trilled when her mother finally broke into a scream. “He’s practically a married man,” she went on and Phoenix felt herself sinking deeper into submission, “what are you thinking?! I know we raised you better than that!” There was nothing for her to say that her mother would be in the mood to hear. “And don’t even get me started on the faking his death bull****! Who does that?” she exclaimed clearly ready to be started on it regardless of what she said. Phoenix braced herself against a stall wall preparing herself from the tirade about to come.




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Old 05-03-2008 at 03:31 AM
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Luc Danier

Luc hurried into the stables, long since abandoned by the managers of the opera house, in search of the newest stagehand at the Opera Populaire, Phoenix Mercer. She wasn't just the best stagehand that had ever worked under him, but she was also the only stagehand that he had ever wanted under him, in a very different sense of the word. Phoenix was a highly intelligent, resourcefull, and entirely intriguing woman that Luc had been seen giving quite the controversal kiss to. It had been in part due to the fact that the ravenous wolves that liked to call themselves 'press' were going to make it seem as though the kiss had happened anyway, but mostly because Luc was absolutely infatuated with the woman whom he had escorted down the red carpet of the Anniversary Gala. It had caused quite a stir considering his engagement to the star soprano Adeline Devereux that had been left hanging when he had been presumably killed. If anyone had bothered asking for the real story from Luc, if by the off chance he would ever actually tell anyone anyway, he would have made it known that his relationship with Adeline was over and that he was just prolonging the inevitable. He would have also made it known that Phoenix was not some worker he was heating the sheets with, but someone that meant a lot to Luc, and they hadn't even slept together. Wanted to? Yes. Actually carried out the action? No.

But he didn't care about all of that now. It seemed so far away considering what had happened to him in an abandoned house across town the night before. He had been beaten, abused physically and verbally in the plight to obtaine usefull information about his brother, who's shady past, it would seem, was catching up with him. The thought that scared him concerning Phoenix was that their relationship had been publicised and blown up to seem as though they were a hop skip and a step away from being engaged, thanks to the rabid coyotes, and if Pearce Rowe would attempt to kill Luc in order to get mere information about Jean, why would he stop at doing anything to Phoenix in revenge for Luc walking free (or, rather, running for his life). The only reason he hadn't found Phoenix before now was because he had to make sure Isabella had gotten home safely. Now it was early the next day, and he was running around the areas of the opera house that were fairly deserted in order to avoid questions, these places conveniently being ones that Phoenix would find something interesting to do in. When he had been unsuccessfull, Luc had stumbled upon one of his workers, who told him that the stagehand he was looking for was last seen heading in the direction of the stables.

And so, when he stood in front of her at last, bruised and bloodied from not having even been to the hospital or even least Pieter, Luc's left hand grabbed her arm gently. He was pretty sure his right one was broken by the pain he felt from it. "Phoenix!" he said, relieved to see her and know that she was alright, before realizing that she was on a cell phone with someone. He frowned in annoyance, knowing that what he had to tell Phoenix was infinitely more important than anything anyone on the line with her could be talking about, and he took the phone from her without any sort of request for approval. He heard a woman's voice, cold and angry at the same time, chastisizing Phoenix for her behaviour at the Anniversary Gala. Pleasure to meet you too, he thought before interrupting Phoenix's mother, whom he assumed it was based on how this older woman was speaking to whom she thought was Phoenix, as she was in the middle of a sentance about what a horrible person he was. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said impatiently, stopping her mid-sentance, "but I am the disrespectfully arrogant ass, and I need to speak to your daughter right now so Phoenix is going to have to call you back." He hit the button to disconnect the call, and tossed Phoenix her phone before pulling her into one armed hug, then giving her a frantic kiss before she could have a chance to yell at him for what he had just done. Though most people would avoid yelling at someone as beat up as he was, he couldn't tell if Phoenix would pity his injuries or threaten worse ones. His thoughts were racing wildly as he tried to find the best way to tell her that she had to get out of town no questions asked. His blood was pumping furiously, his head was pounding harder than it ever had before, and now that he had seen that Phoenix was okay he found his body wanting to shut down and sleep more than it wanted to move. He swayed slightly, before using Phoenix to steady himself. "You have to get out of Paris now," he stated weakly, fully expecting her to ignore him entirely and press about how he had gotten into this state, as was her nature. Despite his desperation being evident in his expression, Luc tried to stay calm so that she would have no reason to panic, even though he found the idea superfluous considering his current physical condition.

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Old 05-04-2008 at 01:25 AM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by SocialMisfit View Post
Rose Lee Peace

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, spitting fire when she saw the butt of his gun. Yep. Just like Juan, came the thought.

"Just as long as we understand each other," he said suggestively. A mocking smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"You should really meet an old acquaintance of mine; Juan Miguel de Silva. Yeah, you two would get along great," came the acid reply.

The man took a step closer, and Rose shifted away from him. "You could try to be a bit more amiable. I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility..." He said, taking another step, a tiny smile on his face. "Yet."

Rose's mouth and expression twisted, her lips pulling back over her gleaming white teeth, resembling a wolf's grimace. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" she snarled menacingly. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest available object, and that's a promise!" she snapped. There was no way in Hell she was going to have to endure being raped again, and she'd go at any lengths to make sure of it.

"You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means," she snarled again, ready to attack.
Pearce Rowe

Pearce was beginning to wonder if this one was worth the hassle. Judging by the gleam in her eyes, she wasn't about to roll over and play dead. Which was a pity, because Pearce's patience was wearing thin and he really wasn't up for a lot of effort put into one good lay. And effort, it would seem, was what this slag would be requiring.

Once he took his daring step nearer, the brunette visibly tensed, full lips pulling back so that they were no more than a thin line stretched across brilliant white teeth. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" Pearce resisted the urge to roll his black eyes, now feeling rather annoyed with the results of his endeavor. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest available object, and that's a promise!" Castration. No matter how many times he heard that threat, it would always send a brief twinge of imaginary pain down between his legs. Still, to Pearce is was an overused promise, and he would have appreciated something a little more original. "You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means."

This made Pearce's eyebrows quirk upwards, and he wondered if maybe she was a bit masochistic, telling him to go ahead and shoot her. "You talk an awful lot," he commented in an unenthusiastic drawl, folding his arms over his chest as he surveyed her. "You're making the urge to go ahead and put a bullet in your head a lot more tempting than any other urges in which I might have considered indulging previously." Pearce leaned against a wooden post, lip curling briefly as he paused to brush a bit of dust off his sleeve before reaching inside the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he waved the box in her direction in a vague offer to share and then lit the tip of his own with a lighter that had magically appeared in his hand. Normally smoking in a stable made of wood would have been quite unintelligent, but the air was thick and humid with moisture because of the approaching storm, and frankly Pearce was too irritated to care much about fire safety.

He turned back to her, brow cocked as their eyes met, black with gray and gold. "Not only that, you're being rather stupid. I doubt the little butter knife or whatever the hell you have in that pocket of yours is much in comparison to my artillery, and yet there you are, spouting off threats and making assumptions about me." Pearce took a deep drag of his cigarette, a condescending smirk forming on his lips. "And you know what they say about assumptions."


♦ so why did you bawl from the spell of some old holy song? ♦

some liar laughed as he composed, some liar i loved to control
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Old 05-04-2008 at 09:16 AM
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Phoenix Mercer

Phoenix was chewing her bottom lip fitfully. Part of her just wanted this verbal abuse to be over, or at least for a moment to come where she could interject anything against the stem of her mother's discontent. But a larger part of her was having to beat back the desire to scream in frustration and explain to her mother just how wrong she was, at the top of lungs. Problem was it was hard to be mad at her mother for making the same accusations that she had of Luc. Especially when her anger was tempered by the guilt that she had neglected to mention anything about her 'supervisor' to her parents in the times she had talked to them since the evening at L'Arpege. It wasn't that she was ashamed of him, only that she hadn't been looking forward to the explanations that were now going to be so much harder. Her mother took a moment to catch her breath in her tirade and Phoenix plucked up the courage to interject as calmly as possible that--

Phoenix gave a strangled, startled gasp at the feel of a hand on her arm. "Phoenix!" Luc said in a mixed tone of panic and great relief. At the sound of her name her mother's voice on the end of the line found new fervor, Who's that! Don't tell me that the disrespectful lying.... But Phoneix has stopped paying attention to the phone that she now held limply, the disconnected voice echoing distantly as the device drifted away from her ear. At the sound of his voice her first impulse had been to clamp a hand over his mouth before he could say anything further to incriminate himself. At the first sight of his face though she found herself unable to move. She couldn't even rouse herself from her stupor to protest when he unceremoniously plucked the phone from her hand. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said boldly and Phoenix felt all the blood drain from her face. "but I am the disrespectfully arrogant ass, and I need to speak to your daughter right now so Phoenix is going to have to call you back." Her jaw dropped slightly more. No one ever talked to her mother that way. She had fought tooth and nail for the respect she had earned. To say she was defensive of it would have been a gross understatement. To say that she was going to be more pissed when Phoenix called her back would also have been an understatement. Deep down she knew that half a world away there was a fight starting to simmer that held the potential to go off like an atomic bomb. She also knew that she was more than a bit relieved that the conversation had ended.

The stupor of surprise that had overtaken her was broken as she numbly caught the phone he casually toss her and quickly scrambled to turn off the power before the shrill ringing could recommence. "Luc--" she started in a baffled and concerned tone before he pulled her in tightly to a one armed hug and her words were silenced by a sloppy and frantic kiss. Reflexively she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck but couldn't bring herself to complete the embrace. He was a pulverized mess, battered and broken and some instinctive concern was almost afraid to touch for fear of doing more harm. He sway slightly on spot and without thinking she reached out to wrap an arm around his waist, unbridled fear threatening to overtake her mind. "You have to get out of Paris now," he said, his voice weak but his tone authoritative. Only Luc would be hard-headed and stupid enough to try to give her order when he could barely stand up.

"Are you kidding me?!" she scoffed in wounded disbelief even as she attempted to guide him to sit leaning against the stall wall. "What I have to do now is take care of you," she stated firmly. "Why does your face look like you put it through a meat grinder?" she asked still trying to beat back the dizzying adrenaline of horror at the even closer inspection of his injuries. Since she'd gotten to know him better she had, on occasion, given morose thought as to his accident but she never questioned it. Now it was like she was staring at a picture worse than some of the worst she had managed to imagine. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you like this," she pleaded as much as she demanded as tears of alarm crept into her eyes and she cringed as she ran her thumb lightly across his cheek, smearing blood.




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Old 05-06-2008 at 06:55 AM
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Luc Danier

Luc considered it safe to say that Phoenix was baffled by everything happening around her. Luc had taken her phone away while apparently fighting with her mother, talked disrespectfully to the woman he had never met before (though in all fairness she was talking disrespectfully to him first, and just didn't know it -- she thought she was talking disrespectfully about him), and had promptly hung up. And he had done all this directly after stumbling into the stables looking exactly how he felt, with no explination whatsoever yet. He couldn't blame Phoenix for the way her face turned an unnatural pale when he had grabbed her phone, or for the way she looked at him in disbelief for his injuries, or even for how while he could not hug her fully because of his bad arm, she could not hug him fully because she was scared to. And really, who wouldn't be? He was an absolute mess from top to bottom, dried blood on his face and clothes, and bleeding still from a few head wounds. He feared his arm was broken, which would hinder his work no doubt, and he was sure that due to his concussion he had no buisness standing anywhere, let alone here. He should be in a hospital bed swearing as nurses disinfected his wounds and doctors prodded his many bruises, but he couldn't go anywhere until he knew that Phoenix was far away where no one could find her, completely safe from any harm that could come her way due to his or his brother's actions, both the night before or whatever Jean had done years ago to deserve the animosity of a cruel character such as Pearce Rowe.

"Are you kidding me?!" came the passionate reply of Phoenix, who apparently had no intentions of going anywhere. She led him to the wall to lean against, which he was gratefull for, though he was too focused on her well being to focus on taking care of himself for himself. "What I have to do now is take care of you," Phoenix told him, her tone unshakeable. "Why does your face look like you put it through a meat grinder?" Luc winced, not because he was offended by her comment considering he was sure it really did look like he had been in a losing fight with a meat grinder, but because his head throbbed intensely, and he longed to sleep until he was completely healed. He felt dizzy, and logically deduced that on top of everything he was most likely dehydrated. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you like this," she told him, and he noted that while she wasn't asking if she could stay by any means, she wasn't entirely ignoring that he wanted her to go. He looked at her directly in the eyes, and saw the tears forming in them, and every ache, pain, or potentially fatal wound that Pearce and his henchman could possibly cause to his exhausted body could never hope to rival the pain his heart felt when he saw tears in Phoenix Mercer's eyes. Don't cry, I'm here, I'm alive, he wanted to tell her, but he knew that he couldn't. If he had any hope of her leaving town on the next train out of there, Phoenix would have to be scared. Her thumb caressed his cheek, and even her gentle touch made his skin scream in protest. "You have to go, Phoenix," he repeated, his voice raspy from a night of yelling at Pearce not to touch Isabella, and lack of water. "Please... if you have never trusted me on anything else, trust me in this. You have to leave right away or you could end up like me." His grave tone told her that he was not exaggerating in the slightest, and he felt an unfamiliar stinging at the back of his eyes at the mere thought of the slightest scratch on her because he couldn't get her to leave in time. He put his hands on her shoulders, unwittingly transfering his blood on the shoulders of her shirt in the process, unable to look away from her.

Pretty soon, he knew, he would be searching for any sign of his brother to make sure he was okay, and he did not want to have that same heart-wrenching search for Phoenix as well. He thought, briefly, that he had gone looking for Phoenix as soon as he had made it from the abandoned house he had been in and to the opera house without a stop at so much as a crosswalk, and would be directly leaving to search for Jean as soon as he convinced Phoenix to leave, and would therefore not get to so much as a bed, let alone a hospital bed, before god knew when. Already weakened, he hoped that he could find Jean before his body proved itself to be inferior to his mind and he passed out. He realized that the longer it took him to get Phoenix to leave, the longer he would wait to find his brother, and he would therefore have to give her something more than an order or she would never go. "I've just come from getting the **** beat out of me for something my brother did that apparently pissed some people off. And if they can do this to me for a phone number, I don't want to find out what they can do to you because they might know we're together," he said, unhappy about having to say that they were together, not because he didn't feel as though it were true but because they had never talked about it before, and he didn't want this to be the moment they defined anything. It was true though -- the kiss that was apparently seen around the world would have surely been seen by two men in Paris trying to be average despite the fact that they were heartless killers. "Just trust me," he pleaded desperately, focusing on trying not to fall on top of her, "and go to the train station and catch the next one going anywhere." His tired eyes stared into her concerned ones, and he wished he could hold her and just not let go until everything was back the way it should be.

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Old 05-07-2008 at 01:51 AM
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Phoenix Mercer

Once when she had been very young she had proposed to her friend Ryan that they be the ones to stand up to the class bullies even though the bully was twice her size, and her friend even smaller than she was. In the end one of the bully's friend had ended up sitting on her while Ryan received a few punches to the stomach and a black eye. Though she had only been seven at the time the moment had stood out as most helpless she had ever felt, and was exactly the feeling she rebelled against every time she picked a fight. That moment had finally been trumped. "You have to go, Phoenix," Luc said in a weak and raspy voice that she would have barely recognized as his if she hadn't watched him speak the words and made her heart break painfully. All she could manage in response was to stubbornly shake her head and try not to look too weak and pathetic in the face of his pain. "Please... if you have never trusted me on anything else, trust me in this. You have to leave right away or you could end up like me." Her breath caught slightly, eyes growing wide with a terrified horror, before she caught herself and bit down hard on her lip and averting her embarrassed gaze she wanted to pretend like it didn't matter, that the idea wasn't filling her with the impulse to run away like a frightened child but she was scared. Scared that this face she had been daydreaming about could be so mutilated so easily, shaken by the gravity of his tone.

"Of course I trust you, you moron," she said attempting to chastise him teasingly for his doubt in her faith in him. But her smile was wane and forced as a few stray tears snuck past her resolve to slide down her cheeks. Phoenix gave up on smiling as her chest felt tight and throat tight at the effort to try and not appear as terrified and shaken as she felt. “But please,” she pleaded, “don’t ask me to…” her voice faded away weakly as his hands fell on her shoulders and she stepped in closer to the touch. She could feel him leaning on her slightly and hands trembling wearily. Reflexively she stood a bit straighter and taller willing him to lean on her, thankful for any small way that she could help him. "I've just come from getting the **** beat out of me for something my brother did that apparently pissed some people off. And if they can do this to me for a phone number, I don't want to find out what they can do to you because they might know we're together." It was a nauseating feeling to have her heart leap and stomach plummet in the same instant. What they meant to each other had remained undefined since they had first met. At that point it had been easily defined, employer and employee clearly hostile with each other. But as things had changed she hadn’t bothered to try and make him define it, curious as she was. She was content simply enjoy it. Now she had her definition, her verbal proof that he felt for her like she did for him, but the context only succeeded to make that affection feel like a burden she had put on him. "Just trust me," it was his turn to plead, staring at her with desperate intensity, "and go to the train station and catch the next one going anywhere."

She had fought with him enough to know when she was gaining an advantage and when she was losing one, but this was the first time she’d ever felt like she’d already lost. Phoenix stayed quiet for a long deliberating moment staring unflinchingly back into his eyes and willing herself not to see the bruises and cuts on the rest of his face or feel the way his right arm was trembling almost violently on her shoulder. “Come with me,” her voice was barely a whisper but the frantic spinning of her mind carried through her tone. “Yes… together,” Let’s be together, let’s leave Paris together,” her voice picked up in volume and hope, “We’ll go find your friend who put you back together after…” unable to bring herself to bring up his last accident she quickly skipped over it, “and then we’ll leave.” She searched his face desperately. If he really was in as much danger as he claimed there was only one way she could see leaving this city without being drenched in soul crushing worry and guilt was if he were with her. “I don’t care where we go, Switzerland, London, Madrid, maybe we’ll just pick at random. I don’t care… but you can’t honestly expect me to just go sightseeing or act like a tourist if you’re here with someone willing to do this,” she said with a cringing glance over his face and blood stained clothes, “for a phone number.” Phoenix pressed the palms of her hands into the stall wall behind him to resist the temptation to embrace or cling to him. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him gently, unaware that the panic had made her frightened tears fall freely.




Max | Pieter | Polaris | Phoenix | Protagonist | I love Sam <3
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Old 05-07-2008 at 10:58 PM
Erik
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OOC: If it's a bit awkward I wrote half of the ending first so that's why it may not flow well :p BIC:

Luc Danier

"Of course I trust you, you moron," Phoenix said, and he tried to smile back at her but pain twisted it into a grimace. A few tears escaped and Luc wished there was an easy way to make them stop. He was appreciative for the wall behind his back that supported him, the stress from this conversation with Phoenix taking even more of his already depleted energy from him. “But please, don’t ask me to…” Phoenix trailed off before she could finish her sentance when Luc had placed his arms on her shoulders, and he noticed with admiration that she made herself straighter and sturdier for his benefit. It was hard asking someone who would do that for you without a word to go away as quickly as possible. After he told her the barest form of what had happened the night before, mere hours ago, she stared intently into his eyes, and he stared right back. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was as scared as she looked, if she had wished that he hadn't come and found her at all. It really depended on how she felt about him -- surely, she felt affection for him, but enough to leave unexpectedly because he told her that someone who had hurt him could hurt her as well? And how deep did her pride run? Enough to think that if she stayed in town and looked over her shoulder now and then, she would be fine? Did she trust him enough to listen to him, and just do what he said so that he could make sure she was safe, or did she think that she should disobey him so that she could look after him and go to the hospital like he should (and most likely would not if left up to himself). He hoped with everything inside of him that she would listen, or he just might be forced to find a way to keep her safe in this city that had just become dangerous.

His hands shook, and he felt his own warm, sticky blood sliding out of his headwound where Pearce's gun had connected, and he thought that he would have to find Pieter before he did anything else, or he woulnd't be able to do anything else. He clenched his teeth against the fatigue and pain that was raging through his body, willing himself to focus only on her eyes, which were swimming in tears of panic and fear. “Come with me,” she said, and he almost didn't hear her softly spoken order. He stayed silent, lost in his thoughts, her voice, and her eyes, three things that were distracting him from his own injuries. “Yes… together. Let’s be together, let’s leave Paris together,” she added, her voice becoming louder and more animated by the thought of getting on the train he was begging her to, but sitting next to him on it. “We’ll go find your friend who put you back together after…” There was a breif pause as she avoided mentioning his accident, which seemed so small in comparison at the moment. “and then we’ll leave.” This was the most appealing offer that could have ever been made to him, and his eyes softened as he thought of taking her away from danger and straight to the pyramids of Egypt, the Parthenon in Greece, or the glittering waters off the coast of Ireland. "I don’t care where we go, Switzerland, London, Madrid, maybe we’ll just pick at random. I don’t care… but you can’t honestly expect me to just go sightseeing or act like a tourist if you’re here with someone willing to do this," she said in reference to him and all of his injuriesin general, "for a phone number.” Phoenix's hands leaned on the wall behind Luc, and she stood on her toes to give him a gentle kiss.

Luc Danier had never been a lucky person. His history had proven this, time and time again, and quite frankly he was sick of it. So why shouldn't he go with Phoenix to anywhere they wanted in the world? Jean had told him to leave, so he would leave, and he would follow Phoenix to the end of the world, to Canada, even, if she so chose. It would be easy to get medical leave from work, something it looked like he would have to do anyway, to pack a bag with everything he would need and let her lead the way until the heat died down. Considering the state he was in at the moment, and that he felt like hell, he was seriously considering it. He had deserved to run away with someone who could make him smile and mean it every day, and he had gotten little luck in Paris. Maybe he just needed to throw down his ties and hit the road with Phoenix. Why not? he asked himself, but he already knew the answer. He couldn't. Jean would need him, and Luc would need to be there. The second Phoenix left, he would be out the door looking for Jean, so he was forced by his own morals to stay put. "I..." he started, trying to tell her he couldn't go, but the words didn't make out. Of course Jean would need help, but didn't Jean specifically not tell Luc that he was in Paris again, for the sole purpose of keeping him away from exactly what had happened a few hours earlier? Every fresh tear Phoenix cried made Luc want to say yes, he would go with her right then and there, and he reasoned that there was nothing Jean would want more than to have Luc go with her, away from the dangers that had rooted themselves in Paris. And he knew that if he went with her, he would know that she was okay and could be no more than a few seconds away from her. "Okay," he said, kissing her lightly, "let's leave tonight, anywhere you want." He gingerly touched the back of his head, and glanced at his freshly bloodied hand. He would defenitely need to fix that first. "But before we pack we may need to find Pieter Lachen and get this sewed up," he said weakly, before promptly closing his eyes and dropping to the ground in an unconcious bloodied mess.

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Old 05-08-2008 at 05:16 AM
Daroga
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OOC: Did anyone see all those rules Jon broke with this post? I sure didn’t. *innocent look* I beg mercy on high since it’s been a very short scene for a very good cause… Technically Phoenix isn’t here because Pieter’s back… so here in the earlier posts is just an illusion… and yeah I didn’t wait two posts between switching between Pieter and the charries not here because I wanted to trespass as little as possible *nods* That logic is as convoluted as possible and if you can understand it I’ll give you a cookie… BIC:

Phoenix Mercer

Maybe kissing him at that moment was a sign of desperation. Desperate to remind herself that no matter how horrifically broken he appeared he was still intact, more or less, and standing before her. Not yet a walking corpse but a wounded man. But perhaps it was a wordless plea to try and convince him to resign to her request. She had never been the kind of girl to consider using sexuality or anything of the sort to try to win favor, making it all the more clear how desperate she was. For a moment she indulged in the hope that no matter how deplorable the tactic that it might have actually worked, but her hopes fell as his gaze hardened with resolve, resolve that did not seem to be in her favor. "I..." he started and she braced herself for his reasoning or once again pleading as to why she just had to go. He didn’t finish the sentence and she cringed slightly. Like pulling off a band-aid. If it was going to be the verdict that crushed her heart she would prefer to hear it straight out without any more dancing around. Phoenix had always been a big believer that there exist in each person a power and a strength that even they were unaware of until the moment they needed it most. She had drawn from it the day she decided to leave home and not look back until she found the answers she needed for herself, and she was trying to summon it now, she was going to need it if she was going to do what he asked. Leaving Paris wasn’t the hard part. Before she had gotten to know the battered man before her she had been ready to do it at a moment’s notice, and her frustration with him had nearly driven her to it on more than a few occasions. But she had never foreseen doing it like this. Leaving her heart in Paris to go travelling a world that would suddenly seem very gray and empty, with him plaguing her thoughts through perpetual concern and not by her side.

"Okay," he said quite suddenly as he covered her mouth that had fallen open slightly in shock with his own. "Let's leave tonight, anywhere you want." Phoenix gave a gasping laugh of relieved surprise. She had been so certain he was going to turn her down that this acceptance was a like a sudden and wonderful dream she scarely dared to believe. “Anywhere,” she repeated nearly giddy with the alleviation of her fears. Without realizing she was even doing it she was already creating daydreams of the places they could go, the journey before them taking shape in her mind more as a fantastic vacation than fleeing for their lives. Maybe a bit of an extreme of a bright side to look on, but considering the dark side it contrasted it would have to be. She was already thinking of the travel guides she had with her and wondering where all he had been before and figuring out who she could get to watch the stuff she couldn’t take with her but hadn’t bothered to ship home yet. She was drawn from her mesmerizing fantasy as he winced and drew his hand from the back of his head, fingertips glistening with fresh crimson blood. "But before we pack we may need to find Pieter Lachen and get this sewed up," he said weakly and even before his voice died out his eyes had closed and he was swaying dangerously. With her palms pressed against the wall behind him it was only natural for her to reach out grab him, wrapping her arms tightly around his upper arms as he slumped heavily against her, the sudden unexpected weight dragging them both to the floor strewn with old hay. “Luc!” came her startled, muffled call as lay stunned beneath his unmoving form. She had imagined being in this position with him more times that she could admit without blushing, but never like this.

As quickly and carefully as she could manage Phoenix extricated herself from under him, trying desperately not to injure him further as the panic began to mount. “No, no, no… “ she muttered as she crouched on her knees next to him shaking him gently. “Please wake up, “ she pleaded. “Wake up you stubborn ass…” she said frantically desperately hoping he would look at her and give her one of those ridiculous smiles he wore when he was teasing her, trying to will his unconsciousness into a joke he was playing at her expense. When nothing happened she fumbled with his wrist for a few moments before giving up on her ability to find a pulse and laying her ear directly against his chest. There was a heartbeat. It was a faint but steady thump. She breathed a deep sigh of relief sitting back on her ankles and running her fingers through her hair, trying to get a grip. Okay, he was still breathing and still alive, but obviously in need of some help that she didn’t have the first clue how to provide. Phoenix chewed he lip for a brief moment before making her decision and springing to action. She kissed him on the forehead, muttering ironically, “Don’t move…” before jumping to her feet and racing for the door.


~*~*~


Pieter Lachen

Pieter hummed to himself as he went about his work. He wasn’t really chipper, it was just a habit he had picked up from spending too much time with Maureen that he drifted into when his mind wandered separate from his actions. He was almost done cleaning the boys wounds, it was quite routine work actually. Granted he hadn’t found it quite found this duty as serene when he had first arrived as he did now. The young woman who had shown up at the clinic demanding of him if anyone there knew Pieter Lachen had nearly dragged him away when he had identified himself. She turned out to be surprisingly strong when motivated and it had taken legitimate effort to wrench himself out of her grasp to gather what was going on as he had collected his bag. At the mention of Luc Danier’s name his stomach had clenched painfully with a reflexive image of the last time the young man had needed his assistance. Fortunately what he had found, when she had lead him at a break neck pace into the old stables, was not nearly as bad as the injuries that had almost claimed his life. But that by no means made them good. The first thing he had done after quickly assessing the boy’s condition was to go about the business of setting what he could only assume was stress fracture and partially dislocated shoulder without a proper x-ray. The crunching sound of bone on bone had made Luc’s young lady friend turn an unsightly shade of green and look faint. Fortunately his patient had only stirred for a single moment of convulsion at the pain before returning to the blissful slumber of that weary battered and bruised. At that point it wasn’t hard to convince her to excuse them, and she’d hurried off muttering about a quick return and something about packing. Pieter had the decency to wait til she was gone to start cleaning out some of the large wounds and begin stitching up the deep gashes. The sight of a needle through skin he had discovered was a breaking point for many weak stomachs.

After that his work had been fairly simple matter of cleaning wounds and applying bandages. There wasn’t much he could do for the bruises and he knew from experience that his friend’s younger brother was twice as stubborn as the elder and just as tough. He had every faith he would be fine with a little rest. Unfortuantely he couldn’t afford to allow him much more of that at the moment and pulled from his bag a bottle of water and a smaller one of smelling salts. He cringed slightly himself as the smell from the small bottle whafted up to him as he passed it beneath the younger man’s nose. “Time to wake up Danier,” he called loudly hastily putting the top back on the bottle as he began to rouse and the scent started to bring faint tears to his eyes. “You could just invite me to dinner,” he said teasingly at he sat back more comfortably in the thin layer of straw. “We really don’t have to keep meeting like this.”




Max | Pieter | Polaris | Phoenix | Protagonist | I love Sam <3
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