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Post by Apple Collins on Jul 18, 2015 1:44:57 GMT
Apple clucked her tongue at him. "Ray, you failed the test! Mystery would eat a bird. We could get another kitty friend, though," She wasn't sure she meant it, but a little kitten friend to keep Mystery company would suit her lonely feline companion.
She pulled away slowly so she could sip on her milkshake, watching him all the while.
She couldn't shake the dream that'd shaken her sense of stability. She didn't want to think about what would have happened if she hadn't run into Raiden those months ago. She didn't want to consider the 'would haves.' The outcome of her lonelyness. Before this, she'd been empty. Without a family. Her only back-up being her abusive father.
And now? Now she had an infamous sister. A cat. A lover. And of course Harley, who was always a little quirky and secluded, but she considered him a brother, even if she didn't tell him.
She had a family. A family she knew she would have and love forever.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Jul 18, 2015 0:14:41 GMT
Jasmin's jaw clicked audibly as it set. This was all a tricky little façade to butter her up. It had happened before, but the scheme had never fallen through as planned for a single soul.
...but, as she felt an arm slide around her and a large hand gather her closer, she began to rethink that whole theory.
"Tide, calm down. Ai --" She flared her nostrils. There was no keeping a professional tone at this point in the game. He needed comfort. He needed his apology validated, even if she didn't know who this Alice character was.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been touched so firmly. This was bringing up too many familiarities for her to be comfortable with, but she kept her hand on his back. That's what seemed to be comforting him more than anything.
"Airron, you need t' calm down. If you pull this shit--" She looked up and firmly grabbed his chin with her free hand.
"You damn well better be listenin' to me," She growled, "you can't be doing this in front of the other soldiers. They'll think you're weak. They'll sacrifice you to save themselves. You will be a lesser man here if you don't calm down." She chose her words carefully. She wanted to shake the information into him, but whisper-shouting with a firm, almost painful grip on his face would suffice. Besides, he wasn't all that steady and she didn't want to be crushed under the massive baby giant's weight.
His apology only made her more keen on helping him survive this. He could redeem himself. He'd already taken the vital first step, and she would not forget that.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Jul 17, 2015 4:31:18 GMT
Apple snickered a little bit as he leaned in, and nuzzled her face briefly into his neck, slouching; just resting there. It kept her grounded. "I like birds. We could get one sometime. Maybe a blue one. Or a pink o -- they don't have pink birds," She remembered, and recalled it aloud, sounding a little crestfallen by that sad reminder. Not enough things came in pink.
Forgetting the birds momentarily, she shifted slightly, face still nestled into his neck, and peered at the two decorative glasses. She could manage it.
She was surprisingly good at stealing, but neither had tested how far her abilities went. He wasn't keen on putting her in danger, and she being in danger.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Jul 12, 2015 5:29:17 GMT
Apple stirred her thick, frothy shake timidly, a crinkle at the edges of her eyes as she scrutinized the shake, trying to understand the extent of its healing properties. Why was it a universal antidote, or was it one at all? Perhaps it was the combination of Raiden's company and the backdrop. Perhaps milkshakes had nothing to do with it at all.
She tilted her chin toward the sky, eyeing Raiden up as he spoke to give herself an amusing air of sophistication. "Well, we already gotta cat. Technically, Mystery's Jazzy's cat, buuut-"
But the war seemed to be at its climax, and she had a gut feeling that the peculiar, shaggy cat the pair so doted upon would be there in the distant future.
She leaned close and murmured with a smirk something that she was very, very fond of in her depressive states: something about a petty, harmless crime. "I'm gonna steal this milkshake glass. It's real pretty." She was the reason they had such fanciful china and cutlery.
She finally returned his gesture and nudged his foot back with a dissolving smile, and daintily lifted the chocolate coated straw to her lips. For such a petite, pleasant blonde, she had an edge that had seeped into her physical features. Her blue eyes were sharp and full of depth and an icy coolness that made her greatly resemble her militant sister, and her smile could be a bit twisted.
All-in-all, her rocky, blotchily recorded memories of the past ended up serving her well in her career. She was a pretty blonde with an edge, and people respected her. Such a haggard, lowly career had changed her life for the better.
And Raiden had taken her in and had known what to do to turn her life around, and because of that, she could return the favor.
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Post by Apple Collins on Jul 5, 2015 21:15:01 GMT
Apple was having one of her off days. Days like this only had one solution: milkshakes. It seemed silly in theory, but there was no possible way to frown while slurping down a thick, strawberry (in her case) shake at their favorite little oldin' time style diner: one of the few left standing in any of the spacious Capitol.
You could not frown while your boyfriend flashed his glorious teeth that could make pearls jealous.
You could not frown when you had a day off from measuring and bagging skunky marijuana, clumps of ugly tan rocks, and fine powders (that she often managed to knock over).
You simply couldn't find a reason to frown on a day like this.
She slid into an outdoor patio chair, the cushion just luxuriously plush enough to keep the blunt gesture from causing her any pain in her tail bone, and let out a poetic, drawn out sigh that stopped with a rumble as her deeply arctic blue eyes met his, and the corners of her mouth upturned before her mind could fully comprehend how warm his gaze made her feel.
She felt so low, and smiling seemed to betray that fact, but it was damn near impossible to wipe the airy, toothy expression off her marble tough face.
It was tough to remember what feeling so down felt like when you're sat outside your favorite diner with your favorite person, making some of your most /favorite/ memories.
But a milkshake and good company didn't wipe her slate clean. Their reason for ending up at the diner so early in the morning (eight AM -- practically torture!) was just as what it was every other time they ended up there: nightmares.
They were not the kind full of blood and gore, but the kind of quiet devils disguised as charming men, her family looking war-torn and dead-eyed, and Raiden... Raiden, bumbling and wide eyed, delusional and unresponsive.
It never ended. She didn't believe it truly ever would, no matter how dopily and unbelievably happy she was.
Apple left her thin, mellow pink jacket over her shoulders. It was as soft as a blanket, with its cottony, wool like fabric.
It was pushing sixty-five degrees, but she would lug that thing around with her until it reached seventy-five. She stroked the fabric with her thumb absently, and gave her boyfriend a once over. She could usually figure out how stressed and exhausted she looked outwardly by his expression .
But the tensity between them lasted no more than a few minutes before their faults and rocky pasts were left in the dust, and their stomachs ached from laughter.
"So, like, is eight too early for a milkshake? I hope so, 'cause I'm feeling rebellious today." She whispered with an unyielding amount of light to it, hand falling limply from her coat. Packaging and dealing drugs with your boyfriends was clockwork -- not rebellious in the least.
But dessert for breakfast? Moral conflict.
She examined her chipped pink nails appreciatively. They were no acrylics, but for someone who washed her hands religiously, they looked pretty even to her.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Feb 8, 2015 12:13:41 GMT
Ever since Apple's hasty, permanent departure onto bigger and better things, she'd been feeling disconnected. It'd taken her several months for the reality of her dissociation to set in: she had nothing of her mother's or half-brother's. Sure, some people'd think that tearing yourself away from a toxic hole completely was the most favorable option, but she didn't want to forget the good in her life; it made her feel human.
Though of course, Raiden couldn't let her stare the Devil in his eyes alone. He was so street-smart and careful because of his wicked past time, pushing drugs and playing the villain. But she knew he'd never be the villain in her life. Maybe it was puppy-love, but it felt too real. His smile melted her. She craved his touch, not feared it like with most people.
And that was how she came to this scene: her ducking out of a chipped taxi cab with billfolds tucked in her pocket (in case of emergency. She and Raiden were equally paranoid), her slouchy leather bag held cross-body over her torso. Her hair caught the crisp winter breeze, fluffing the platinum, beachy waves up to Heaven. Her lashes were wispy and long - and false, to anyone with a keen eye. She wore her lips bare, her face pale with the season, dimpled cheeks blushed at the apples from the natural temperature. A combination of pale browns dusted over her lid, her tear-duct highlighted a pinky nude to soften the meticulous dump of color over her lid. She blinked hard, the strength of the wind blowing on her lashes, fluttering them uncomfortably. She tugged her fingers against the edge of her classic, wine red pea coat with knobby buttons and a mottled faux fur lining close to her, covering her thin, pastel pink, popcorn knit sweater with numb fingers.
C'mon, Ray! She thought with haste, slowing her pace to that of a snail's as she approached the front of the tiny walk-in cafe, bashfully painted the same shades as her eyes, the colors chipped with age. She didn't want to face the beast alone, no matter how great her outlook on life'd changed. It was still taxing, but she knew it'd be worth it to hold her mother's old masculine watch and her brother's bandana.
Exhaling, a cloud of vapor swirled in a mini fog around her lips, drying them as she pulled the door open, a "cling" from above signaling to the staff that someone'd arrived. Her gaze basked over each person until she caught site of her target. Her heart beat picked up, but outwardly as well as inwardly (other than her wild pulse), she felt cool and collected.
"Hi," She chirped, like they were old friends, "Raiden's running late. He wanted some cereal." She was still bad at conversation and kept her words short, but that was more by choice now than anything. She kept her coat on, gesturing to the door and meekly saying, "it's cold in here, ain't it?"
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Dec 13, 2014 19:24:11 GMT
They wanted her to lay low. She didn't. They wanted her to recover from the mental trauma. She wouldn't. They wanted her to step down from her leadership role. She couldn't. And this was how it came to be; the world crumbled down in front of her.
Prickles of granite sandblasted her, snapping her out of her haze. Noise slammed in her ears, so loud she felt them pop and recoil at the explosion. She lowered her head, dropping her riot mask over her face, and took off in a sprint, gaze stuck on a capsized building with the opening to a bunker peeking from the rubble. Over the months, she'd gotten leaner and more coordinated.
So it was odd when she stumbled, foot catching on something. She fell hard and fast, ash and dust snaking into the crevices of her mask. She coughed and hacked, looking up to see the obstacle. Her heart dropped. Her stomach felt tight. A soldier lay with half of his face blown off, his lips forming a whimper she couldn't hear. His helmet was smashed to pieces a few feet away.
There had to be people in the bunker.
Lifting her helmet, sweat beaded around her hairline. The ground shook with from a distant blow. She adjusted the man's shirt to find a name...to make sure he wasn't one of her own. Creevely. He was a stranger. That almost made it worse."C'mon, Creevely, don't die on me." His uninjured eye waved at her, rapidly dragging from left to right, just barely registering her presence. She lifted him under the armpits, his well-defined body weighing down on her. She staggered toward the opening in the wall, wheezing, sweat sliding down her face like a rain drop.
Jasmin climbed into the tiny opening and urged the man forward, feeling dozens of gazes hard on her back. "Someone help him!" She jerked her head around to face them, mouth cotton dry. The soldier's blood seeped through her uniform, staining her skin crimson and raising a gag out of her. She rubbed a hand across her face, smearing the salty sweat.
The line of beds set up made the area seem more like a makeshift home than a temporary bomb shelter. Do they live here? Her mind wondered.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Dec 13, 2014 16:43:38 GMT
Apple sucked on her lower lip, trying to fade the concern in her eyes. He didn't need her concern or her emotions. He needed a watcher - for now. "That was sweet of you, Ray. Picking up the pieces." Like I'm doing for you. She thought darkly. He walked..
That didn't sound like trouble to her. He was a quick-witted man, impaired or not. She lifted the drink he'd ordered, her hand trembling. The pill had dissolved. It wouldn't leave much of a chemical taste. She sniffed hard, pushing back tears. Stop, stop, stop. Don't cry. You can't cry.
Why not? What else was there to do, when your whole world had been turned upside down and shaken so hard people fell of the face of it?
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Dec 11, 2014 3:03:33 GMT
Apple lowered her head, peering through her hair at Raiden, careful not to rouse him. The sudden clank of a fallen glass startled her into jumping in her seat. She flicked her gaze toward the general direction of a sound. Harmless. A cracked glass, was all it was. "Raiden, you wanna tell me what you've done all day? Tell me all about it?" She expected rebuttal, but she was just trying to keep him in close proximity of her.
She wanted to dissolve a pill underneath her tongue to relax.
No. Wait until Harley gets here.
The younger woman had an idea sparking in her mind. She lifted her purse, a pill bottle jangling inside filled with odds and ends from the pharmaceutical world. As a waitress clanked the food down, she dropped two pills into Raiden's drink. Downers. He'd be out of it still if he drank it, but less irritable.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 21:20:28 GMT
"Jasmin will keep us safe. Hopefully." He joked tightly, draping an arm over her, his free hand drawing up and down the length of her charcoa hair. All-in-all, it wasn't likely either of them would last long in such a war zone.
He pressed a kiss against the top of her head.
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 21:11:08 GMT
Jasmin lifted her head quickly, nodding along, attempting not to flick her wig out of her eyes. She pressed her lips together thinly. He was right in some ways, but there were things she'd never be able to admit. "They would've killed you or hijacked you." She started feverently.
"I trusted you too much-" She couldn't quite stifle a gasp as he drew her closer, then dipped her back, the world spinning in front of her. She caught the movement in the end, though, smiling through the motion, dizzied by the lightness of the dip.
She gave him owl eyes as she straightened, finally showing some real, dramatic emotion: surprise. "I'll need another drink if you care for another dance." She bat her eyes at him, still airy from the move.
She didn't elaborate on her before statement of trust. She wanted to think he didn't catch it in the transition of their dance. It hadn't even meant to slip out.
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 3:12:15 GMT
He was almost breathless. Even though it didn't take much to wind him physically, he was worn emotionally too. It was too pure for their situation. "Ya know, Kes, we're supposed to be lying down in case someone shoots through the door," As he spoke, he wound an arm around her, lowering himself onto his back and gathering her with him. Once they were adjusted, he lifted a fistful of her hair gently to his nose and took a whiff.
He wanted to remember every little detail of this moment, including the scent of her hair, the shade of her eyes...
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 3:06:51 GMT
Jasmin flinched as he spoke about her name. He had to know she was undercover. She fell into the moves of his dance easier than expected, but still wobbly on her feet. She wasn't a grace by any means, but she wasn't awful enough to raise any well-groomed brows.
And it was only his next bout of words swimming to her ears that made her realize something: he didn't know. She lifted her hand to wipe her face out of exasperation, but remembered her layers upon layers of thick goo that camouflaged her.
Her ear chip had been switched off on the order from herself that it would raise suspicion, whispers coming from her ears. Most of the undercovers followed suit, so they were alone. "I left - I left 'cause I was sent a hologram from the President. They're taking people from me until I crack and side with them. They took my family.." Her voice cracked with grief. "They took Kray an' Jewel. When I left, though, I only knew this much: it'd keep you safe." She explained in a rush, desperate to get the words out, to force him to see it through her mind.
Jasmin's head drooped against his shoulder. It was a little odd in that setting, especially to the natural Capitol citizens. She was so tired...
Her mind, her body, her being.
And the familiar hands of an old friend lulled her into a relaxed state. "Ain't you heard? I'm leading a sixth of the army. 'M the commander." She let her awful interpretation of the English language slip out, as she was whispering. It was too light for their intense snapping of clipped words.
She tightened her hold on him. Jay not having arrived yet saved their moment. He would've known something was off within minutes. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a month, and their friendship was strained.
She zapped the thought of Jay from her mind and allowed herself the break from reality. She wanted to swim through a dream world with Nixon.
She wanted to live to see eighteen, but no Capitolite would let her live through this.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 2:09:03 GMT
For one startlingly long moment, he felt truly powerless. More so than at his weakest physical state. He'd forced away all of his mental barriers, all his idealistic expectations of intimacy being storybook perfect
gone.
Pike at this moment knew one thing for sure: his mouth tasted like blood still. It was faint, but still very there and very uncomfortable in his mind. Almost more uncomfortable than them being hunkered down in a tub with a Capitol girl during a shootout.
His hand trailed from her neck down to the small of her back, gathering her closer, leading the way to keep her focused. He was losing himself to the kiss willingly, and his guide slackened, his hand at her back for support. He kissed her back messily, shaking with chuckles at every second their mouths parted. Smiling almost felt more important than catching his breath.
He pulled away like he was finished, then peppered kisses all around her face: jaw, cheek, between the eyes, and lastly, her lips. Chaste, brief...
And only then did he realize that when they were given the instruction to get in the tub that it meant to hunker down to hide and as a shield for bullets. He inwardly cringed.
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The Capitol
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Post by Apple Collins on Nov 20, 2014 1:58:25 GMT
She'd been there for minutes, and already she was swarmed with chattering men and women, grasping her hands and complimenting her make-up, or her outfit, and once even about the size of her nose. Of course, nobody knew who she was. There was a fine reward for her capture, and they advertised that fact anywhere and everywhere: news broadcasts, speeches...
Her and a handful of others, the majority within the militia were wanted for experimentation. They'd been chosen, all for separate reasons, and Jasmin served as their leader.
But today, she was a woman of grace and sexiness, even though her organs felt slammed together through her corset and her ankles screamed in protest with every step. Jasmin peered from behind her gaudy false lashes at everyone, catching tidbits of information. She had a drink held to her lips by then; some fruity beverage that left her gagging from the richness of the kick: alcohol.
She eyed the crystal glass disdainfully, the rim of the cup smeared with the memory of her lipstick. She tried not to appear too anxious, but when her own name sounded in her ears, she whirled to face the speaker, hand falling to her hip where her gun would usually be holstered. "If you're trying to give me up, it's working," She tried to keep her tone icy cool and level so she wouldn't spark a crowd.
Although her fear was as clear as the glass in her hand, she sidled forward, a pop in her step that she'd been half-heartedly miming from a group of younger women. She didn't appear apologetic for her harshness. Instead, she slid toward him, draping her arms over his shoulders to initiate a dance. It was hard to even look him in the eye. Her actions had kept him safe.
He looked at her with such emotion her chest tightened, and she nearly lost her dreamy mask of joy she'd put on for the festival. She'd hurt him, lied to him...
He would know that now, with her binding clothes. The pregnancy scare was real as real, but her departure felt more like betrayal than a save.
She was digging herself deep with this dancing gig; she was clueless, although she'd found a new grace with her sobriety and hard military training. Her arms were leaner and more toned, but her fingers that were so intricately painted up were calloused, but her eyes were still muddy and plain, but so forceful and emotion-filled. So Jasmin. "Me leaving saved you-" She exploded before he had a chance to react to their closeness.
Although dancing was such a common gesture between peers in the festival world, their closeness felt intimate and dark. She blinked slowly, trying not to watch how he'd react so closely, in fear she may lose her poker face.
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