love me harder [menponine]

If nothing else, he could only hope and pray that she knew of his love for her, with every ounce of his being. He hoped that she realized her importance, if only to him. He hoped that she acknowledged the fact that he was there for her and he fully intended to stay as such for a long time to come. He hoped that she recognised the fact that he appreciated and simply adored her without restraints. Within the French language, one was not simply to say I miss you, as one might within the present English language; one would instead say tu me manques, which when translated, was all the closer to you are missing from me. As such, she was a part of him, she was essential to his being. Like a limb, or an organ, or blood; he would be unable to function without her. With journey spent vastly in silence, such thoughts plagued and clouded his mind, the remaining pale irises studying the terrain before them, ignoring a few curious glances from various onlookers, who cared not for the blood, merely out to satisfy their own inquisitive natures.

Fragile form adjusting within his arms as his residence melted into view, his limbs slowly released her so as to provide time to steady herself, hands only relinquishing their grip around her dainty frame upon ensuring she was steady; judging by the extent of her wounds and the bloodloss he anticipated her movements to be plenty more hazed and uncalculated than they were, it quickly becoming evident that she was capable of moving without his assistance at this point. Large shoulder blades rolled in a shrug of dismissal, following closely behind her, entering the home promptly. How had he allowed himself to love again, despite having been so determined to dismiss such an emotion, swearing never to bear it again. And yet, how had he found himself not honestly caring for his past experiences with the futile emotion once it came to the griffin shifter. He hated the feeling, the vulnerability, the weakness, of surrendering up his heart, for most would so easily seek to crush it before his eyes; why did he not care as to what she did with it? However, he found himself snapping out of the thought upon her initial speech, his gaze switching to her, a subtle frown accenting his single pale iris. "Eponine, we need to deal with your wounds first and foremost; they're more extensive... You've already lost plenty of blood. You needn't spill any more, if only for your own wellbeing." Despite his speech, it seemed vastly as though he wouldn't be given much of a choice. The latter of her speech drew only a subtle nod from the man, unable to piece together any particular descriptors to the relations him and the gnarled grey griffin once shared. She had healed him, and in turn he had sworn her his protection, then seeking to abandon him in a time she needed him most. She'd treated him like a son, and he'd driven a stake through her heart in return. He'd sooner watch her rot in a ditch than assist the woman, that much was for sure; where was the harm in reaping the benefits before he left?

Again, her words brought him racing back to the present, gaze shifting to observe her delicate facials, his own dropping into a frown as she twisted away from him, limbs dragging down her face. With only a brief hesitation, his frame moved forth to close the gap between them, and from behind her, his arms loosely looped round her waist, attempting to avoid her wounds as best he could, placing a gentle kiss atop her head. "If you did what you thought was right, then let nobody tell you otherwise. Don't let them criticize your judgement. You needn't apologise for any of it." His hands relinquished their grip of her frame as she twisted to view his injured eye once again, drawing a gentle grunt of apparent irritation from the man. "Eponine..." he began to mumble, though it seemed any words would be pointless, as she was already rummaging through the drawers, prompting the bear shifter to shake his head in a faintly bemused fashion. His gaze searched her own as she sought to tend to the injury, studying the sorrow within them, only having briefly flinched in response to the initial contact, quickly growing used to the subtle sting of her gentle touch upon the wound. Did the crazy old bat really mean that much to the feminine?

Her words faintly echoed within his mind, her having again assumed a nonexistence hatred of her guts; a gentle snort of disapproval left him upon hearing the latte of the statement. Hell, if she expected that he had grown a hate for her due to her actions, then perhaps she wasn't quite as intelligent as he had suspected. "Eponine, need I explain the concept of hatred as I have love? There is not an fragment of hate within my heart for you, as I have said, many a time." He released a gentle huff, offering her a subtle trace of an almost playful smirk, however it faded once more as she spoke. One of the worst things one could do was try to tame chaos; it was like being told not to feel once thrown onto the fire. At least she sought to welcome it, for love was simply a chaotic emotion. "Real love is always chaotic, Eponine. One loses control, one loses perspective, one loses the ability to protect themselves. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It's a given, and that's the secret most fail to realize."

W O R D S
956~

T A G
Eponine Graves played by RENDEZVOUS.

N O T E S
ONLY LURV CAN HURT LIKE DISSSS~ xD
I'll bring Clem in soooon.

M U S E
Sinners, Me, You Can Be King Again, Love The Way You Lie, Animal I Have Become, Fools, Ugly Truth.

 

For many, love was a two-sided coin. It wielded the power strengthen or stifle, expand or enfeeble, perfect or pauperize. When love was returned, one felt power enough to soar. One was taken to heights unseen, where it delighted, invigorated, and beautified. When love was spurned, one would feel crippled, disconsolate, and bereaved. Polish the coin and one would see only requited love, upon both sides. Love never dies a natural death; it dies because one doesn't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals, it dies of illness and wounds,  it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. The best love was certainly the kind that held the capability to awaken the soul and makes one reach for more, the kind that wielded the possibility of planting a fire in one's heart. And that was precisely what she had provided for him. That’s what he'd hoped she'd give him for the remainder of time she was able.

His singular pale iris scrolled across her curling lips,  reflecting a faint trace of a smile upon his own bludgeoned features as the feminine cleansed them, chuckling in light amusement upon her words. "I can't say I've heard a better decision in a long time, darlin." Blue orbs gazing down into her own, the feeling of her hands settling upon his facials had his own gently furling round the feminine's waist, her dainty frame held close to his own. However, there was little time to respond to her speech before he found her lips pressing against his own, instinctively returning the notion; a kiss was a lovely trick designed by nature in the truest of forms, halting speech when words became superfluous. If she was to kiss him a paragraph, he would return her a novel, more than willingly. His grip upon her waist tightened slightly, his arms enclosing around her frame, and abruptly, his thoughts became irrelevant, his heart frantically pumping beneath his chest, for it wasn't his ear of which received her hushed whispers, instead his heart; it was never his lips that were kissed, instead his soul, and with every touch she was somehow able to mend it. As she pulled away so as to speak once again, his operational iris reopened, releasing a slow, longing breath, unable to wretch away the grin that inched his lips upwards. "Ah, but madness is the only sensible way to love." Unless love was to be a mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it was a waste of his time. There were too many purely mediocre things caged within life, hence, love shouldn't be one of them. His grin faded into another kiss, and though certainly more brisk than the initial one, it sent the same electricity spiralling up his spine.

Relinquishing his grip upon her waist as the feminine seated herself upon the floor below him, the man cast her a partially bemused, though partially concerned, glance, studying her through an oddly soft eye. His hand gently settled upon her shoulder, rubbing it softly, his eyes falling to the obvious positions of her injuries, clothing accented by a thickly toned scarlet, unnaturally shrouding the material. A steady huff left the taller man, extending his opposite hand to grab the gauze placed upon the counter, scrolling his gaze over it with a faint hesitance. Something thicker was required, undoubtably, though first said wounds would need to be cleansed... Likely a painful experience, though necessary. Or at least so he assumed; he wasn't exactly one for medical treatment. If he didn't require it, where was the use in acknowledging it? The man promptly produced a washcloth from the cupboard, running it briefly under the tap, wringing out a good quantity of the water, before ducking back down beside her, moving his frame into a crouch. His gaze searched her own in a silenced request for permission, before moving round and gently pulling up the back of her shirt so as to reveal the wounds. "Not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt like fucking hell... I'll be as gentle as I can, but no promises," his words were reduced to a hushed mumble, huffing gently, before slowly applying the wet rag to the edge of the first wound.

A faint snort of amusement left the man upon her speech regarding fighting, frown falling into a smirk, "hopefully you won't have to, not with me here." With that, however, the taller shifter slipped back into a solemn silence, merely focused on the cleansing of the wounds, ignoring the shrouding of crimson that had quickly enveloped the cloth. Her words were oddly hushed, even for her, his attention immediately refocusing the moment the noise left her lips, gaze fleeting upwards. Though it seemed she would try and sweep it under the rug, so to speak. A deepening frown promptly appeared upon his face, grunting a quietened, "hm?" Abruptly, his mind fleeted back to the incidents of the day, the desperate struggle to locate the feminine, the combined scents of many a creature. "... Eponine," he began, clentching his jaw, "who inflicted these wounds upon you? The hunter could not have caused that much damage in such a short space of time, and these look more like... Claws... Than anything."

W O R D S
878

T A G
Eponine Graves played by RENDEZVOUS.

N O T E S
:3

M U S E
Sinners, Me, You Can Be King Again, Love The Way You Lie, Animal I Have Become, Fools, Ugly Truth.

 

Humans, through both aspects of nurture and nature, two natural rivals within any growing being that in the end would come to determine that individual, were always capable of being crazy, if only due to the fact that they were capable of loving; you must be crazy to indulge within the growth of the proclaimed futile emotion. It was an irrational emotion that knew of no bounds, for the more one would love another being, the less sense anything mind. And as the world came to an end, dusts tinted with nebulae, ashes of a thousand burned legacies, cascaded through the air, what insanity was there greater than the reckless notion to spend it directly aside the being one had fallen in love with? Everyone claimed that love was as such a pointless, hurtful thing, yet every time such a statement was proven correct, they would profess pure amazement, believing that somehow the impetuous emotion would make an exception, if only in their case. It never did. Why he found himself so willing to relinquish his views on the destructive emotion and yearn for her presence on a day to day basis, he'd never know, nor would he question. He loved her, that was all that mattered, surely. She was the closest to heaven that he'd ever be.

The man gave a briefly bemused smirk in response to the feminine's speech, murmuring a gentle, "god, how did I ever breathe before you," before proceeding to savour the plump sweetness of the woman's lips through the seconds that passed, withdrawing to enable her limbs to crane round his back. His singular operational iris studied the top of her head, a quietened huff of content leaving the man, gently curling one hand round her own lower back. His gaze promptly sought to meet her own, studying the vibrant nebulae dissolved into the blue hues with a faint hint of curiosity. She always had something certain about her, the look of otherness, of eyes that saw too far, and of thoughts that wandered far off the edge of the world. One could so easily get lost within those perfect blue orbs... Perhaps the only difficulty was that one could struggle to get out of them. Her eyes held a new heaven promised, a pleasurable alternative to reality. However, as the feminine slowly seated herself upon the floor, the man snapped out of his apparent trance.

Providing a brief hesitation upon the hint of sarcasm entwined within her words, the man provided a brief amused snort, before his facials fell back into a stern solemnness, focused entirely on tending to the wounds. However, as the feminine cried out, the man jerked backwards in surprise, singular eye widening. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry..." Finding himself capable of an apology since his childhood years, the man promptly recovered his composure, releasing a light grunt of frustration, both at his incapability to offer much assistance beyond causing further pain, and to the fact that the wounds were as extensive as they happened to be. Her noticeable shudder drew a frown from the man, though his pale iris glimmered with curiosity, studying the feminine's features closely, though waiting with odd patience for her to explain the source of her wounds. Everything seemed as well as they could be for the initial few words, though as soon as her workplace left her lips, his gaze immediately hardened, brow furrowing into deep frown, taking a good few moments to process the words that followed, though that single statement immediately plaguing his mind.

Puzzles. He wasn't honestly sure how exactly he was supposed to react to such a notion. How could someone quite like Eponine, with her complex blend of knowledge and naïve nature, end up in such a place? She was so fragile, and yet somehow she endured that damn club on a day to day basis? Though, as she mentioned dancing before the unavoidable drunkards within the place, his eye widened, frame tensing. Hold on... She was a stripper? Of all damn things, she was a fucking stripper? "You're a-..." he trailed off promptly, doing his best to digest the information as quickly as it sprouted from her mouth, "fucking hell Eponine..." His jaw clenched, reluctantly returning his gaze to her own, his eyes hard and emotionless. Did she not fucking realize that it might have been a good idea to have informed him? Though, upon her mention of the fact that she'd never understood why, his demeanour shifted from shock to both relief and disbelief. How could she not possibly come to realize the desires of the men? "How in the name of hell do you not understand this shit, Eponine? Fuck... Humans always crave what they cannot have, that is what they are programmed to do; they crave your body. That is the whole point of the club!" A low, aggravated growl left the man, singular operational eye long since having narrowed towards the feminine. How was she so oblivious to these things?

It seemed as though the feminine that also managed to reside within the household alongside the man always happened to arrive at the worst of times, which was undoubtedly intentional. For, once again, there she was, stood leaning against the kitchen's doorway, lightly toned emerald irises glimmering with pure, unhindered amusement. No doubt, Teuiec was also situated beside her feet, the feline's own levity evident upon her elongated facials, the result of her apparent strange feline-hybrid heritage. "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the door?" the feline mumbled gently. "Oh, romeo, romeo, where art thou, romeo?" the teenager snorted in amusement, overacting the motion purposely, her hand crossing her heart and slouching upon the door frame, before dissolving into a fit of laughter, the feline following suit with an oddly human grin. Hey, at least she'd listened to one thing in school. "But, OH, what a beautiful wedding it shall be!" the feline remarked in a gleeful response, tail lashing in bemusement. It seemed as though the pair had been there for a while. "What a shame the poor, poor groom's bride is a whore." With that, the girl situated herself upon the counter, seating herself there.

The instant the man heard the teen's apparent conversation with the feline, he cast the pair an aggravated glare, far beyond having the patience to deal with them. "She isn't a whore, Clem, learn the meaning of the fucking word." His voice came sharply, accented by an irritated huff. "Oh but sh-" He promptly interjected, "shut up." The feminine scrunched her facials in distaste, scoffing lightly, "I-..." His gaze grew all the more intense, squaring his shoulders, "Now." though he ignored it aside from an uncomfortable shift of his position, well aware of the teenager's eyes boring into the back of her skull. The feline, captured by the scent of blood, sauntered towards the feminine, oddly toned pink irises closely surveying the large wounds of the griffin shifter, audits flicking as she did so, evidently a little more considerate than the currently hushed teenager, a light snort leaving the hybrid, "she needs plenty more than just her wound being bloody touched with a cloth. Surely he must see that." Her gaze set back to the teenager, casting her an oddly hard glance. "Pressure bandages, adhesive tape, go." Unlike the man, at least they were prepared for injuries, Teuiec having persuaded the teenager to purchase at least some forms of supplies, under the guidance of the feline of course.

The man shook his head to dismiss his confusion as the teenager left the room, leaving the feline beside the feminine, his gaze settling back upon her. He took her question into consideration for a moment, before providing a hushed, "no..." He wasn't angry at her, not particularly. She hadn't know, after all... Right? Someone quite as innocently naïve wouldn't wield the capability to keep such a thing to themselves. "It's... Not your fault, after all." Andrew. Hadn't he heard that name before? His frame leant against the counter, attempting to put a face to the name, only fragments of the man's facial composition coming to mind. A partially irritated, partially pained huff slipped from the man, allowing his facials to briefly fall into his hands. "Fuck..." Well, it would certainly make for an interesting argument with Dallas. Was his boss quite aware that the feminine had no idea what the hell she was doing?

W O R D S
1373~

T A G
Eponine Graves played by RENDEZVOUS.

N O T E S
Here comes clem to ruin the day. And teuiec to, y'know, laugh at menponine but save eppie from bleeding out in his kitchen. x'D

M U S E
Sinners, Me, You Can Be King Again, Love The Way You Lie, Animal I Have Become, Fools, Ugly Truth.

 

Fear. Nothing more than another crippling, crushing, stalling inhibitor produced purely by the mind of a living, breathing being. Through his eyes, one should expose themselves to their deepest fear, and following such an incident, fear would have no power, no grip upon the mind, shrinking and dissipating into the deepest recesses of the mind. One could not allow it to dictate them, to change the possibilities staked at hand. Fear was fully dependent on the one who wielded it for it's survival, awakening the soul in the worst of ways. Fear was death, fear was sin, fear was unrighteous; all negativity within one had a tendency to sprout from their fear, their very weakness. Hence, with such a vulnerability within mind, he had buried his fear deep within his soul, praying that it never be uncovered, conquered, or at least for now. So, why did he look upon her, look into those perfect blue eyes, and no find nothing but the crushing emotion? Why did he suddenly find terror littered within their depths? His singular operational iris surveyed her irises carefully, clenching his jaw in irritation. It hadn't been his intention to scare her, no doubt, though who wouldn't be angered by such a fact? What had she expected from him? The man desperately wanted to reach out, to steady her, to comfort her in some fashion, though the irritation boiling within his chest prevented him from doing so, merely grunting quietly in response to her initial speech.

As she mentioned cannibalism, however, his facials fell into his hands with a muffled growl of frustration. How could she have possibly endured such an occupation without uncovering what the point was behind it? "No, Eponine. Lechery, debauchery, lust, ardour. They desire hedonism, and they have led themselves into the delusional belief that you can provide such things." She likely wouldn't understand any of those words either, though how was he supposed to explain such things to the clueless feminine? His pale iris fled to the flooring below the pair, pointlessly searching for answers to the questions racing through his skull upon the tiles; needless to say, he found none, unanswered and unspoken inquiries shrouding his mind. However, the taller man promptly was forced to return his gaze to the unsteadily rising feminine, turning his back on the teenager so as to fully focus upon the griffin shifter, prepared to reach out to steady her if need be, speaking evidently in reference to Clementine. "Don't listen to her," he mumbled quietly, "she's just a foolish, naive girl." With that, he frame leant against the counter, abruptly silencing himself, allowing the griffin shifter to move into the other room, the feline promptly trotting after her.

Mauve toned irises, laced with lighter streaks of blue and a strange pinkish tone, studied the griffin shifter in silence for a good few moments, dipping her skull as the feminine spoke of her place of work. "There are many better choices, of that I'll admit. There are few things that men crave more than the body of a fine woman, and more often than not, they are more than willing to harm you in order to acquire it." With a faint sense of elegance present, the feline easily bounded up onto the couch alongside the griffin, seating herself there and furling the thick tendrils of fur that formed her tail around her forepaws. However, her facials knotted into a pitiful look as the feminine tore the feather from the crafted jewellery, the feline tracing the delicate pieces of the feather fall to the ground, audits flicking back against her skull as her eyes returned to the shifter. Hearing the woman out, and watching her begin to cry, the feline gently lifted a paw and placed it upon the feminine's leg, staring up at her with pity flooding through her oddly toned eyes. "Better the hard truth, I say, than the comforting fantasy. A comfort zone is a beautiful place, though nothing remarkable will ever grow there." A gentle huff left the spiritus upon hearing the front door slam, presumably the man exiting the house. "He's... A lonely man equipped with a broken heart. Even the most violent men deserve to be loved, as much as he might protest; you mean absolutely everything to him, I can see it in his eyes, in the way he acts. Dear, give him time. He'll figure it out, of that I can promise you."

Upon sighting the teenager entering the room and casting the gently sobbing woman a strange look, the feline nodded a quietened acknowledgement. "Any more bloodloss will certainly not assist your predicament..." Her sympathy was still present within her vocals, the teenager remaining silent in the meantime, moving forward and seating herself beside the griffin shifter, her eyes searching the feminine's facials in a silenced request for permission.

W O R D S
811

T A G
Eponine Graves played by RENDEZVOUS.

N O T E S
:3

M U S E
Sinners, Me, You Can Be King Again, Love The Way You Lie, Animal I Have Become, Fools, Ugly Truth.