bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

the shipping picture prompt meme
SIMILAR TO THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME & THE SMUT PICTURE PROMPT MEME ONLY FOR SHIPPING.

i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.

THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY.

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[OOC: A volcano of angst?]

She bursts into laughter when she hears his comment. He knows her too well. It was one of his dirty tricks he used to capture her. A few days were enough for him to read her and learn her by heart. And he dared to tell her that she was not a lexicon. More like the Anarchists' Cookbook.

Heine. His name is enough to turn this cold, gigantic, all steel and glass railway station to a tropical garden. He's a jerk, a psycho, an animal, a fucking dickass son of a bitch and she hates him with every single cell of hers, but it won't change the fact that all the time she's with her the world opens like the wings of a butterfly.

She hates the butterflies, too. She hates him for having his secrets and she hates herself for wanting to know them. She knows every single scar she could see if she tore off his clothes. But even if she tears down the flesh of his bones she won't be able to see his real scars.

By the way, scars.]

I have a plan, actually. Take this off. Slowly.

[She pokes the bandage on his neck. If she must be his the most shameful way she could ever imagine than he must be hers, too, one more time. Right here, right now. Steam, dearest? Please. It's a damned meteorite.]

[OOC: Only if explodes somehow.]

[His blank expression turns inquisitive and slowly his hands rise to begin undressing the bandages around his neck. Simple as it is the undo them, the act isn't so simple or meaningless. He doesn't like exposing his scars. It's like a wolf exposing its neck to another as a means of trust or ownership; neither he's good with displaying or achieving with others.

Bit by bit the bandages unravel revealing the ends of his scar about his neck and stopping shy of her earlobes. It didn't wrap around his completely, only from the back and around in the shape of a crescent. All of his scars did come from one place, that metal piece embedded into him as a reminder of his old collar.

Something she didn't know and would never know. His answer of his past being horrible was answer enough. He does complain or whine that life was unfair, he takes into his hands the best he can and holds on as hard as he can with the past trying to catch up; the past being more then memories for him.]

There. You can see it. [The removal of bandages made him feel more naked than the removal clothing. His expression recoils into a bitter curl of the lips, a weak smile that's no for humor and all for the weight of the situation on him and on her.] Is this what you want to remember me by? My scars? [He ask taking a step closer and breathing up smoke from the cold air.]

[OOC: I exploded...if it counts.]

And she can't believe her eyes when Heine actually removes the bandage. He never did it for her, not even once, if she wanted to play with his scars she had to convince and bribe him first and his prices were high.

Now she just looks as his thin, white, tormented neck reveals itself and if Heine knew her well enough he must be know what the shimmering in her mismatching eyes means. Her train is about to leave and she has a ticket to the other side of the world in her pocket, yet she just watches as Heine discloses himself. People stop to watch them like they were a snake-charmer and his krait. But she doesn't really care the crowd.]

I don't want to remember you. I want to have you beside me every morning...you idiot.

[And in the next moment her hands swoop down on the metal plate on his neck to caress it, to scratch it with her sharp nails just to hear that hot, jarring sound. Her fingers are colder than the metal and they soon reach the skin covering the scars. She redraws them, follows them to the point they disappear in the collar of the coat and even under the coat, they look for the warmth of his body, while she inhales his white breath and exhales it again as she whispers.]

I want you.

Edited 2013-11-24 15:19 (UTC)

[OOC: Maybe a rumble, but not an explosion.]

[The red of his eyes is dimmer. Not for the steam in the air, but for the lack of fire behind them. A spark appears when her fingertips dip behind his neck and make a pass at the metal plate, but it too dies after a moment returning to a dull red.

He doesn't care people are watching. He never has cared if people watch him. Being that pale draws attention and the red of his eyes doesn't help. It use to bother him like he was a sight in a zoo, but he got use to it. He was an animal after all; a beast and nothing else.]

We can't. It wouldn't work, not like this.

[It isn't a lie if he believes it strongly enough and he does. It's painful to say goodbye, but he doesn't think; no, he doesn't feel right about having her around or developing anything for her beyond a passing want. Never a need. Never to the point it becomes too dangerous and she becomes a target.

Reaction takes control as her hands sink into his coat, his arms reaching around her to pull closer. Head and hair lean against her head and he listens to her breath come and go.]

I know...I know. [He whispers back solemnly. It doesn't change anything and nothing ever could.]

[If it wouldn't happen now, all the people who stare at them would get a victorious smile from her, a "Look, peons, I have the hottest guy in this fucking town!" type of grin. But apparently it's not the case.

She sees as the last sparkle disappears from his eyes and her fingers stop unbuttoning his coat. Is he serious? Is he bored of her? Does he have someone else? She shrugs, because even if he had someone else it wouldn't count. It would be a-okay until he wanted her to know by his side, too. But he doesn't want it.

But if he wants her to go...]

If you want me to go you must send me off. You know how...how to injure people with words. Talk to me that way and send me off. If you really think it...we wouldn't work.

[White bangles tickle her face as she looks up and kisses him hardly, iz's maybe the most simple kiss he got from her ever.]

I can't...but you can do it. I trust you.

[He grits his teeth at her request. It's understandable, better to leave with bitter feelings so one doesn't think of what could of been. When their lips part, he's closer to her ear again as if self conscious of the world around for the first time ever.]

I'd be lying.

[That's truth for all his teasing and brash manners. Heine doesn't care for acting cruel for cruelties sake when it has no bases. Thugs that shoot at him are different than a woman that actually likes him; hell, she may even love him far as he knows.]

It's either I hurt you like this or hurt you worse later. I'm not going to let that happen...not again.

[He drifts back from her and closes his eyes.]

Leave. Don't look back, don't remember, just fucking leave and forget any of this happened.

[OOC: Come on, Heine, don't be a chicken, if you want the girl, get her, if you want to get rid of her send her to the hell. :p]

[In the next minute a crumpled piece of paper hits Heine's forehead, it smells like a train ticket to The Other Side Of The World. In the next after next moment she glomps him, wraps her arms around his neck and hangs on him with her full weight.]

I. Can. Not. Did that smart brain of yours freeze or what? I can't leave you, sillyass.

[And because it's very uncomfortable to hang on someone like a ripened peach she grabs his waists with her thighs.]

Open your eyes and listen well. I'm...in love with...I'm in love with you---r couch.

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