Sneak up on people.
Thursday, 16 August 2012 19:33![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouWhat got worse? What changed?
16 August, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (4% full).
As it turns out, Riley has not only taken one long shower, but several. This would be fine in the Terminus building, but as it stands, the young woman is keeping the building quite routinely out of hot water. As if that weren't enough, she's all but plundered the supply of junk food in the kitchen. She's presently seated in front of a small assortment of empty prepackaged, high-calorie foods, busily wolfing down the last of the Oreos.
There was a blanket and a book left in a fairly messy heap on the couch, and Flint comes back into the breakroom, followed by the materialisation of a nearly three foot raven-spirit on the far arm of the couch. The teen's dressed in houseclothes, nearly pyjamas, which has the more unfortunate benefit of showing the bandages that are on both arms, wrist to elbow again, and Riley gets a ducked nod of greeting as Flint attempts to slink back towards the couch.
Things progress quite quickly! Riley snaps the top off of an Oreo with her front teeth, chomping the cookie down and then nibbling at the exposed creme—and then Flint appears in the doorway, and she physically startles back a foot, scooting her chair momentarily. Her sunken eyes go wide, and she looks momentarily mortified. Then a blink, a moment's hesitation, and she scoots back in, eyes narrowing as she snaps into the rest of her cookie. "Shouldn't sneak up on people." She chides, reaching past the debris of empty Dorito bags, cans of beer, and an empty can of Spaghetti-O's to snag the last Oreo. The bandages are narrowed in on rather immediately, and rather than starting in on verbal chastisements, she gives an audible snarl and gives a swift flip of the cookie, a snap of her wrist, and sends the confection snapping into the back of the Cliath's head.
Flint pauses mid-stride when the cookie hits him in the back of the head and his shoulders lower, noticeably, and there's a nod. "Yes, Riley," he acknowledges, and then he does move over to the couch, clambering into the corner, pulling the blanket up over him a bit defensively. And over his arms as well.
Watching as the cookie rattles its way to a halt, Riley scoots herself out from the table and swipes a hand out to snag the fallen cookie, well outside of the five-second rule. She moves over to the couch then, settling herself down at the galliard's feet, a frown on her face. "You're still cutting." She observes.
Flint's brows furrow, at that, and he takes a breath in. "Only when I. I needed to," Flint says slowly. "Things got, they… got worse, not better. I'm. It's…" Then the galliard pauses, and nods. "Yes, Riley."
Further irritation crosses the ragabash's features, but she's momentarily distracted by the presence of Dorito dust and Oreo crumbs clinging on to her shirt. She scowls at them and distractedly brushes her hand over her front a few dozen times before glancing back to Flint and fixing her gaze squarely on him. Her eyes lack much of the warmth and empathy from the final moments of their last discussion on the matter. "What got worse? What changed? I've been away for months. Long… long months."
Flint sighs and pulls the blanket up further, curling up. "There's a vampire," he states. "I didn't know it was, a leech, when. Things happened. I didn't mean to. But, everything, there was a lot of blood, so much blood, kill the leech blood so…" Before Flint has a chance to lose it really, and the boy's definitely strung out somewhat, there's a piece of silverware that hurtles from the raven spirit to hit Flint in the side of the head, eerily accurate, and Flint's attention shifts, focuses in. "Ooops. Yes Hraidar."
Blink. Blink. Riley stands immediately, looking around swiftly before turning her focus back on Flint, "Wh.." She draws in a steadying breath, and lets it out slow, then continues. "You're cutting yourself. A vampire's involved." She looks tense as can be, her teeth gritted. Her voice lowers, her shoulders squaring. "Are you under its thrall?"
Flint shakes his head, after another piece of silverware hits him flat in the forehead. "No," he insists. "And, Nieve-rhya did, a. A cleansing, but. Kavi-rhya and Rina still, I'm not. I promised, not leaving, stay. Safe, not. Out there. Want to go find it and kill it and make it hurt and." Flint pulls the blanket up, tenses. "The vampire, it. Did something, magnifying glass, made it worse, made it. Different, made. Hurt, she got off on. Watching me, hurt myself." He looks away from Riley now, and the bird spirit seems a bit agitated by the direction of the conversation, digging through the couch cushions until he comes up with a spoon, in his beak.
"You're gibbering. Stop." Riley quite curtly snaps as she paces the room. She's no longer sporting her occasional stagger and unsteadiness on her feet. Being human is more or less like riding a bike, as it turns out. She just needed to get back into the swing of things. "Okay. People know. Okay. Good." She breathes again, and turns to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door and pulling out a stick of string-cheese, which she begins to pick at the wrapper of. The ragabash seems rather distractible at the moment, because she actually drops the topic at hand.
Flint's hands loop around the bandages on his arm tightly for a moment, though he does stop rather abruptly. Then, the cliath gets engaged in a tug-of-war with Hraidar over the spoon. "People know," he says, and then abruptly, "I'm sorry. I tried, I… nothing helps, nothing at all helps and I want—" which is cut off by a loud, loud croak from Hraidar. "Not feel," Flint explains.
Riley starts to irritatedly felt her fingertips over the string-cheese wrapper before finally snorting and sticking the whole package in her mouth, chomping down until the plastic splits. She then withdraws the halved cheese stick from her mouth, walking over to the sink and spitting out little pieces of plastic and grunting. "Felt like better in my head." She glances over her shoulder at Flint and the spirit, her brows knitted. She lifts a hand to the bridge of her nose, and squeezes. "…Sorry. Look." Her words are slow and intentional, and she looks like she's having to focus to make them come out properly. "My head is… fuzzed. I can't… I will talk to you about this later. Sorry. Going now." She drops down into Lupus, swings her head momentarily in Flint's direction, gives a slight flick of her ear and trots out of the room. Certainly one of the more surreal talks with Riley.
Flint looks over at Riley as she shifts, and the cliath's brows furrow back, before he settles into the couch. The absence of conversation at least makes the boy calmer. In the hallway, however, a piece of silverware and some pebbles are abruptly dropped on the wolf's head.
16 August, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (4% full).
As it turns out, Riley has not only taken one long shower, but several. This would be fine in the Terminus building, but as it stands, the young woman is keeping the building quite routinely out of hot water. As if that weren't enough, she's all but plundered the supply of junk food in the kitchen. She's presently seated in front of a small assortment of empty prepackaged, high-calorie foods, busily wolfing down the last of the Oreos.
There was a blanket and a book left in a fairly messy heap on the couch, and Flint comes back into the breakroom, followed by the materialisation of a nearly three foot raven-spirit on the far arm of the couch. The teen's dressed in houseclothes, nearly pyjamas, which has the more unfortunate benefit of showing the bandages that are on both arms, wrist to elbow again, and Riley gets a ducked nod of greeting as Flint attempts to slink back towards the couch.
Things progress quite quickly! Riley snaps the top off of an Oreo with her front teeth, chomping the cookie down and then nibbling at the exposed creme—and then Flint appears in the doorway, and she physically startles back a foot, scooting her chair momentarily. Her sunken eyes go wide, and she looks momentarily mortified. Then a blink, a moment's hesitation, and she scoots back in, eyes narrowing as she snaps into the rest of her cookie. "Shouldn't sneak up on people." She chides, reaching past the debris of empty Dorito bags, cans of beer, and an empty can of Spaghetti-O's to snag the last Oreo. The bandages are narrowed in on rather immediately, and rather than starting in on verbal chastisements, she gives an audible snarl and gives a swift flip of the cookie, a snap of her wrist, and sends the confection snapping into the back of the Cliath's head.
Flint pauses mid-stride when the cookie hits him in the back of the head and his shoulders lower, noticeably, and there's a nod. "Yes, Riley," he acknowledges, and then he does move over to the couch, clambering into the corner, pulling the blanket up over him a bit defensively. And over his arms as well.
Watching as the cookie rattles its way to a halt, Riley scoots herself out from the table and swipes a hand out to snag the fallen cookie, well outside of the five-second rule. She moves over to the couch then, settling herself down at the galliard's feet, a frown on her face. "You're still cutting." She observes.
Flint's brows furrow, at that, and he takes a breath in. "Only when I. I needed to," Flint says slowly. "Things got, they… got worse, not better. I'm. It's…" Then the galliard pauses, and nods. "Yes, Riley."
Further irritation crosses the ragabash's features, but she's momentarily distracted by the presence of Dorito dust and Oreo crumbs clinging on to her shirt. She scowls at them and distractedly brushes her hand over her front a few dozen times before glancing back to Flint and fixing her gaze squarely on him. Her eyes lack much of the warmth and empathy from the final moments of their last discussion on the matter. "What got worse? What changed? I've been away for months. Long… long months."
Flint sighs and pulls the blanket up further, curling up. "There's a vampire," he states. "I didn't know it was, a leech, when. Things happened. I didn't mean to. But, everything, there was a lot of blood, so much blood, kill the leech blood so…" Before Flint has a chance to lose it really, and the boy's definitely strung out somewhat, there's a piece of silverware that hurtles from the raven spirit to hit Flint in the side of the head, eerily accurate, and Flint's attention shifts, focuses in. "Ooops. Yes Hraidar."
Blink. Blink. Riley stands immediately, looking around swiftly before turning her focus back on Flint, "Wh.." She draws in a steadying breath, and lets it out slow, then continues. "You're cutting yourself. A vampire's involved." She looks tense as can be, her teeth gritted. Her voice lowers, her shoulders squaring. "Are you under its thrall?"
Flint shakes his head, after another piece of silverware hits him flat in the forehead. "No," he insists. "And, Nieve-rhya did, a. A cleansing, but. Kavi-rhya and Rina still, I'm not. I promised, not leaving, stay. Safe, not. Out there. Want to go find it and kill it and make it hurt and." Flint pulls the blanket up, tenses. "The vampire, it. Did something, magnifying glass, made it worse, made it. Different, made. Hurt, she got off on. Watching me, hurt myself." He looks away from Riley now, and the bird spirit seems a bit agitated by the direction of the conversation, digging through the couch cushions until he comes up with a spoon, in his beak.
"You're gibbering. Stop." Riley quite curtly snaps as she paces the room. She's no longer sporting her occasional stagger and unsteadiness on her feet. Being human is more or less like riding a bike, as it turns out. She just needed to get back into the swing of things. "Okay. People know. Okay. Good." She breathes again, and turns to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door and pulling out a stick of string-cheese, which she begins to pick at the wrapper of. The ragabash seems rather distractible at the moment, because she actually drops the topic at hand.
Flint's hands loop around the bandages on his arm tightly for a moment, though he does stop rather abruptly. Then, the cliath gets engaged in a tug-of-war with Hraidar over the spoon. "People know," he says, and then abruptly, "I'm sorry. I tried, I… nothing helps, nothing at all helps and I want—" which is cut off by a loud, loud croak from Hraidar. "Not feel," Flint explains.
Riley starts to irritatedly felt her fingertips over the string-cheese wrapper before finally snorting and sticking the whole package in her mouth, chomping down until the plastic splits. She then withdraws the halved cheese stick from her mouth, walking over to the sink and spitting out little pieces of plastic and grunting. "Felt like better in my head." She glances over her shoulder at Flint and the spirit, her brows knitted. She lifts a hand to the bridge of her nose, and squeezes. "…Sorry. Look." Her words are slow and intentional, and she looks like she's having to focus to make them come out properly. "My head is… fuzzed. I can't… I will talk to you about this later. Sorry. Going now." She drops down into Lupus, swings her head momentarily in Flint's direction, gives a slight flick of her ear and trots out of the room. Certainly one of the more surreal talks with Riley.
Flint looks over at Riley as she shifts, and the cliath's brows furrow back, before he settles into the couch. The absence of conversation at least makes the boy calmer. In the hallway, however, a piece of silverware and some pebbles are abruptly dropped on the wolf's head.