Forged In Fire [Robin]
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Vexen
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- Posts: 45
- Joined: 08 Nov 2016, 02:30
Forged In Fire [Robin]
Wiping the back of her hand across her brow, the slender blonde fell back into her chair and closed her eyes. Responsibility was far too much for the vampire – and after a month of it, she felt as if she were drowning. Every breath she took brought with it the scent of ink and paper, and she could feel the grime of dust beneath her nails from the hours she spent picking apart old, weathered boxes. While, in theory, Mr. Wright had been an analytical man, one that was careful with his ledgers, he was a mess when it came to organizing the product. If it didn’t have a number attached to it, it was usually left for her.
“I can’t do this,” she groaned, her quiet voice echoing off the empty shelves as she gathered her hair into her hands. Pulling the blonde curls tight across her scalp; she tugged a worn tie from around her wrist and wrapped it around the bunched gold in her fist. “I can’t. Who thought I could do this?” Dropping her feet to the ground, she toed aside a few loose sheets of paper, tucking them beneath a damp piece of cardboard. It had been days since she had seen the outside world, and she was beginning to wonder if it still existed. This wasn’t her life. She wasn’t bred to run a store, calculate income, organize the shelves and handle the customers.
She was better off left alone, with the wind in her hair and the roar of the engine resounding in her ears as she leaped from a plane, or tucked within the comfortable arms of her worn, plaid chair with a book in her hands. There wasn’t a place in her life for business meetings, screening employee phone calls, or dealing with angered, perverse suppliers as they banged on her door at eight o’clock in the morning, only to throw something against the window when she refused to answer. It wasn’t as if she could go to the door, throw it open and greet them with a smile while the sun was awake. Of course, the thought had crossed her mind, and she often wondered how sexy they’d find her when her skin started to peel from the bone and her familiar scent of honey and peppermint became tarnished with burnt flesh.
“Mr. Wright, what did you see in me?” It wasn’t the first time she had reached out for his spirit, nor was it the first time she had been met with utter, despairing silence. Of all the people she had met, each one with their own unique power, no one had mentioned the ability to convene with the dead. It didn’t make sense to her. They were undead. They were creatures of the night, they shouldn’t exist – but they did. They roamed the streets, they survived on blood, and they had powers that would frighten the most strong of humans – yet to allow her to speak with her deceased boss was considered too twisted. Rolling her eyes, she rested her elbows on her thighs and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, the blue starting to ache as she thought of the work left to do.
This wasn’t her, but it didn’t matter how often she threw a tantrum when no one was looking, she wouldn’t walk away. Instead, she straightened her spine, hands slamming against the thin black cotton of her sweats as she moved to stand. Even if it wasn’t her life, even if she managed to **** it all up, this was what he expected of her. He had left his treasured business in her hands, and she had fought through hell to keep it. She didn’t endure the torture of his lawyer just to give up now. Releasing an irritated breath, she blew a stray curl from her face as she bent down, scooping a heavy box into her arms. Lifting it with ease, she rested it against her hip and turned to place her phone on the table, where it balanced precariously before finally falling still. It wasn’t until she was certain that it wouldn’t fall that she began to move, weaving her way through overturned furniture and pieces of ceiling that dusted the floor. She couldn’t remember when it had caved in – only that it was going to cost her a fortune.
Once again, it was money she didn’t have, and money she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to gather before the store was slated to re-open. “I hope you knew what you were doing,” she muttered, taking the steps two at a time, before she dropped the box on the floor at the landing. She never went any further then that – how could she? One step onto the second floor, and she would fall through the ceiling – and she had done enough falling in her lifetime. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back down the stairs, her steps slowing when she caught the first hint of smoke.
When she looked back on it, she should have realized how things might have happened. She would think of a thousand ways she could have prevented what happened next, but standing there, with the scent of smoke assaulting her senses and the heat of the rapidly growing flames beating against her skin, her mind was blank. Across the shop, where she had just been sitting, was her chair. It was engulfed in flame, the box of historical fiction she had been sorting kindle to the overturned candle. Somewhere behind her, she heard a shrill, horrified mewl and caught a glimpse of orange as a stray cat slid wildly across the floor before shoving his way through the broken window and into the night, leaving her alone as the flame quickly crept along the papers that littered the floor, and headed towards her.
| R O B I N + B A M B I |
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
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Robin Little
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- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
The darkness had become an overwhelming weight. Where once Robin Little had been so calm in his failures, so accepting of his lazy attitude toward life, now he started to turn. The smallest things caused an eruption of frustrated fury; the simplest things had now become so hard. Although he was taking classes to learn how to read braille, he could hardly read as much as he once had. Maybe that was the problem. Reading was a cure, an escape from a life he had little control over. He’d fucked it up, the pieces of the puzzled scattered and lost, chewed by the errant dogs of the universe. There was no way to gather them all back up again, not with this curse that plagued him – the one other people failed to believe in. They laughed it off, said it was just coincidence. But so much had happened, so much that shouldn’t. He was a vampire who was blind where he hadn’t been blind before. He’d healed in every other aspect but this…
How could he not be cursed?
He’d not let it get him down. He’d not let it stop him from living his life; from curating the numerous businesses he now did his best to run (despite the heavy hacking they had endured and the losses accrued). They did okay, but mainly because he wasn’t on the premises. At least that seemed to be a boon. If he kept his distance and ran things by phone, everything seemed to run smoothly.
Now, he barely left his apartment. Instead, he sent Samuel out to get him things; he asked Samuel to help with technology, set up so that Siri talked him through most things. Whenever anyone called, the ringtone was their name. And he could at least download audio books, which talked him to sleep. Audio books. He had to support Amazon, of all places, and it made him sick to think about it. With all those independent bookstores out there that required good, solid customers…
How was he going to support them now?
Not that he’d been into any other bookstore for a while, given he owned his own and could order whatever he liked on a whim. But still. He remembered the bookstore he used to visit all the time. He remembered the blonde who used always to be working – Vexen, now a vampire, just like him. Sired into the same family, no less. What were the odds? Not that they were a particularly active ‘family’. They didn’t have communal get-togethers or anything. It was the thought of that shop that had Robin on his feet, his white cane collected from where it was leaning against the couch beside him. He was already dressed, his closet having been organised so he could figure out what was what by touch. The outfit was simple – white t-shirt and jeans, because he couldn’t be bothered trying to be any more complex than that.
Samuel had been given the night off, assuming that Robin would be staying in, like usual. Robin was on his own, and that was okay, wasn’t it? He could do this. He’d been practicing for weeks. He was a full-fledged independent blind man who needed no one else to rely on. Right? Except that he didn’t lock the door on the way out, simply because he couldn’t be bothered trying to figure out the keys.
It might have been an issue trying to figure out the buttons of the elevator, too, except that he no longer used the elevator. He was too concerned that it would break down and he would be trapped. These were the things Robin Little thought of, these days – what could go wrong? He tried to always be two steps ahead so that he could forestall the bad luck before it occurred. It was a mind over matter thing, thinking that it even made a difference.
Out on the street, he moved from memory, using his other senses to help guide the way – and every now and again, when he sensed someone else nearby, he would ask for directions. People were generally kind enough to aid the blind man. Eventually he found the place – or assumed he had. The door felt right as he walked straight in, heedless of the shouts nearby. Someone was telling someone else to stop – it didn’t occur to him that they might have been talking to him. When he opened the door it was to enter an inferno. Heat and acrid smoke billowed out to greet him, and all he could do was swear, perplexed under his breath. He didn’t even realise his eyes were wide open until they began to sting, smoke getting into them. There was a snap and crackled and something collapsed, and Robin ducked, arm raised, as if he might somehow protect himself from flying debris.
He took a step back and tripped, falling on his ***. A shout clapped from his lungs as he tried his best to realign himself, adjust to his surroundings.
”Is there anyone in there…?!” he shouted into dead space. Had this occurred to anyone else? Was there anyone around to hear him? ”…has someone called the fire brigade?!” he called again. Surely, this had to have been the first thing any witness had done…
How could he not be cursed?
He’d not let it get him down. He’d not let it stop him from living his life; from curating the numerous businesses he now did his best to run (despite the heavy hacking they had endured and the losses accrued). They did okay, but mainly because he wasn’t on the premises. At least that seemed to be a boon. If he kept his distance and ran things by phone, everything seemed to run smoothly.
Now, he barely left his apartment. Instead, he sent Samuel out to get him things; he asked Samuel to help with technology, set up so that Siri talked him through most things. Whenever anyone called, the ringtone was their name. And he could at least download audio books, which talked him to sleep. Audio books. He had to support Amazon, of all places, and it made him sick to think about it. With all those independent bookstores out there that required good, solid customers…
How was he going to support them now?
Not that he’d been into any other bookstore for a while, given he owned his own and could order whatever he liked on a whim. But still. He remembered the bookstore he used to visit all the time. He remembered the blonde who used always to be working – Vexen, now a vampire, just like him. Sired into the same family, no less. What were the odds? Not that they were a particularly active ‘family’. They didn’t have communal get-togethers or anything. It was the thought of that shop that had Robin on his feet, his white cane collected from where it was leaning against the couch beside him. He was already dressed, his closet having been organised so he could figure out what was what by touch. The outfit was simple – white t-shirt and jeans, because he couldn’t be bothered trying to be any more complex than that.
Samuel had been given the night off, assuming that Robin would be staying in, like usual. Robin was on his own, and that was okay, wasn’t it? He could do this. He’d been practicing for weeks. He was a full-fledged independent blind man who needed no one else to rely on. Right? Except that he didn’t lock the door on the way out, simply because he couldn’t be bothered trying to figure out the keys.
It might have been an issue trying to figure out the buttons of the elevator, too, except that he no longer used the elevator. He was too concerned that it would break down and he would be trapped. These were the things Robin Little thought of, these days – what could go wrong? He tried to always be two steps ahead so that he could forestall the bad luck before it occurred. It was a mind over matter thing, thinking that it even made a difference.
Out on the street, he moved from memory, using his other senses to help guide the way – and every now and again, when he sensed someone else nearby, he would ask for directions. People were generally kind enough to aid the blind man. Eventually he found the place – or assumed he had. The door felt right as he walked straight in, heedless of the shouts nearby. Someone was telling someone else to stop – it didn’t occur to him that they might have been talking to him. When he opened the door it was to enter an inferno. Heat and acrid smoke billowed out to greet him, and all he could do was swear, perplexed under his breath. He didn’t even realise his eyes were wide open until they began to sting, smoke getting into them. There was a snap and crackled and something collapsed, and Robin ducked, arm raised, as if he might somehow protect himself from flying debris.
He took a step back and tripped, falling on his ***. A shout clapped from his lungs as he tried his best to realign himself, adjust to his surroundings.
”Is there anyone in there…?!” he shouted into dead space. Had this occurred to anyone else? Was there anyone around to hear him? ”…has someone called the fire brigade?!” he called again. Surely, this had to have been the first thing any witness had done…
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Vexen
- Registered User
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- Joined: 08 Nov 2016, 02:30
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
As the fire crawled closer, she remained frozen, her hand outstretched, as if with just the power of mind alone, she could forestall the destruction of her shop. In reality, she was allowing herself to become trapped, the orange heat encircling her as it crept along the walls and scorched the ceiling. Was it even possible that a simple candle could create such despair? Shielding her eyes, she tried to ignore the incessant bite of the smoke against the glassy orbs as she searched the encasing darkness to find the small, red labeled jar that had become overturned in the few short minutes she had abandoned it.
She found it after a few seconds, lying on its side, the wax inside melted and the edges cracked. The spider-webbed fissures that morphed the once flawless container inched closer to the edge, and she watched in fixed fascination as it finally exploded, sending shards of glass flying through the air. It was that sound that bounced through her skull over the roar of flames that finally fueled her into action, and she spun on her heel – only to duck a second later when a beam cracked and swung from the ceiling.
Covering her head, she fell to her knees as the black smoke billowed over her head, the sudden explosion from the door swinging open deafening her for a good moment. With a cry, she covered her ears, her nails biting into her skull as she hastily scrambled back to her feet, socks slipping on the charred floor. Reaching a hand out, she grasped the glass counter, her head snapping towards the exit, where she watched Robin fall back, his shouts lost on her. “I’m here!” Pushing from the counter, she tried to clear her vision by waving her hand through the smoke.
When that didn’t work, she found herself tripping over the downed beam, her body flying forwards until she crashed to her knees once again. Bowing her head, she took a breath – and was instantly thankful that her lungs no longer worked – before easing back to her feet. This was getting out of hand – and she had wasted far too much time within the crumbling building. It didn’t hit her until she made it to the exit that everything she had worked for, everything that he had worked for, was turning to ash. The second she reached the door – she turned on her heel and ran back inside, her sweat-shirt catching fire as she reached through the flames to sweep the only untouched book from the floor.
The journal was heavy in her hands, and she worked to tuck the opened letters back between the pages as she clutched it to her chest and stumbled her way back towards the exit.
She found it after a few seconds, lying on its side, the wax inside melted and the edges cracked. The spider-webbed fissures that morphed the once flawless container inched closer to the edge, and she watched in fixed fascination as it finally exploded, sending shards of glass flying through the air. It was that sound that bounced through her skull over the roar of flames that finally fueled her into action, and she spun on her heel – only to duck a second later when a beam cracked and swung from the ceiling.
Covering her head, she fell to her knees as the black smoke billowed over her head, the sudden explosion from the door swinging open deafening her for a good moment. With a cry, she covered her ears, her nails biting into her skull as she hastily scrambled back to her feet, socks slipping on the charred floor. Reaching a hand out, she grasped the glass counter, her head snapping towards the exit, where she watched Robin fall back, his shouts lost on her. “I’m here!” Pushing from the counter, she tried to clear her vision by waving her hand through the smoke.
When that didn’t work, she found herself tripping over the downed beam, her body flying forwards until she crashed to her knees once again. Bowing her head, she took a breath – and was instantly thankful that her lungs no longer worked – before easing back to her feet. This was getting out of hand – and she had wasted far too much time within the crumbling building. It didn’t hit her until she made it to the exit that everything she had worked for, everything that he had worked for, was turning to ash. The second she reached the door – she turned on her heel and ran back inside, her sweat-shirt catching fire as she reached through the flames to sweep the only untouched book from the floor.
The journal was heavy in her hands, and she worked to tuck the opened letters back between the pages as she clutched it to her chest and stumbled her way back towards the exit.
| R O B I N + B A M B I |
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
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Robin Little
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- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
Robin Little was no Daredevil.
The bookworm’s blindness was not gained due to some chemical spill, nor was it fuelled by the anger at the death of a father. That’s how Daredevil went, didn’t it? He’d never really read graphic novels, and had only one shitty movie and a television series to go on. The first season he’d watched when holed up in Lorelai’s apartment making a mess of her couch—not that she’d ever come back to witness it. What had happened to that apartment? The tome Robin had used had been swapped out for a different one, and he didn’t have a key. Did anyone know it was empty? What happened when the bills went unpaid for? Was it classed as abandoned? Resold?
And what was he doing thinking about Lorelai’s empty apartment when he was laying on his back in front of what could only be a building engulfed by an inferno?
Daredevil. Right. He wished he knew exactly where the flames were, and he wished to everything that was holy to him that he had not heard a voice shouting from inside. A voice he recognised. Vexen. Could she get out? Would she? How was he to know? He could see absolutely nothing. He wished that Samuel were there, but then what would Samuel do to help? Would he leap into those flames if Robin demanded he do so? He hadn’t really tested the limits of the thrall’s willingness to obey.
There was nothing for it. No one rushed up to help Robin to his feet, he had to do that on his own. He scrabbled around for fifteen seconds to try to find the stick, but it had rolled away and out of his reach (though it was actually quite close, and by ‘luck’ Robin just so happened to miss it).
He had no idea that Vexen had made it to the exit only to turn back. He had no idea that she was heading back toward the exit. All he knew was that he’d heard her voice calling from deeper within the building, and he assumed that she was trapped. He assumed that no one else was coming to help, and that the fire brigade would take far too long. It didn’t cross his mind that he’d be condemning himself to the same fate as Vexen; he threw himself through the door and further into the broiling heat.
”Vexen! Where are you?!” he called, completely oblivious as he was lurching straight toward (and headed straight past) her, arms flailing as he tried his best to channel his inner Daredevil. Except that he was inadvertently headed straight for flames rather than around them.
The bookworm’s blindness was not gained due to some chemical spill, nor was it fuelled by the anger at the death of a father. That’s how Daredevil went, didn’t it? He’d never really read graphic novels, and had only one shitty movie and a television series to go on. The first season he’d watched when holed up in Lorelai’s apartment making a mess of her couch—not that she’d ever come back to witness it. What had happened to that apartment? The tome Robin had used had been swapped out for a different one, and he didn’t have a key. Did anyone know it was empty? What happened when the bills went unpaid for? Was it classed as abandoned? Resold?
And what was he doing thinking about Lorelai’s empty apartment when he was laying on his back in front of what could only be a building engulfed by an inferno?
Daredevil. Right. He wished he knew exactly where the flames were, and he wished to everything that was holy to him that he had not heard a voice shouting from inside. A voice he recognised. Vexen. Could she get out? Would she? How was he to know? He could see absolutely nothing. He wished that Samuel were there, but then what would Samuel do to help? Would he leap into those flames if Robin demanded he do so? He hadn’t really tested the limits of the thrall’s willingness to obey.
There was nothing for it. No one rushed up to help Robin to his feet, he had to do that on his own. He scrabbled around for fifteen seconds to try to find the stick, but it had rolled away and out of his reach (though it was actually quite close, and by ‘luck’ Robin just so happened to miss it).
He had no idea that Vexen had made it to the exit only to turn back. He had no idea that she was heading back toward the exit. All he knew was that he’d heard her voice calling from deeper within the building, and he assumed that she was trapped. He assumed that no one else was coming to help, and that the fire brigade would take far too long. It didn’t cross his mind that he’d be condemning himself to the same fate as Vexen; he threw himself through the door and further into the broiling heat.
”Vexen! Where are you?!” he called, completely oblivious as he was lurching straight toward (and headed straight past) her, arms flailing as he tried his best to channel his inner Daredevil. Except that he was inadvertently headed straight for flames rather than around them.
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Vexen
- Registered User
- Posts: 45
- Joined: 08 Nov 2016, 02:30
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
Her fingers trembled as she tried to salvage the loose pages of the journal, though a few weathered sheets flew from the spine, only to be engulfed by flame before she could recapture them. With each page that turned to ash, she tried to ignore the feeling of failure and desolation that filled her chest. This was everything he had ever worked for, she thought as she stumbled across the scorched floor, the heat warming her skin through the thick wool of her socks. She barely felt the pain from the fire as it ate away at her sweatshirt, her only thought being one full of betrayal. She had known she wasn’t cut out for this. She had warned him from the moment they had met she would only cause him pain – and now, as he laid six feet beneath the surface, she was only proving him right.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the tears that mixed with the soot on her face, her gaze focused on the dangling, flickering exit sign just out of reach. She was a second away from ducking her head and barreling towards it when she heard that familiar voice again – though this time, it was closer. Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the black smoke, his form finally taking shape. At first, she couldn’t believe that he would have been so foolish as to run into the fire – least of all for her – but before she could convince herself otherwise, he was on her. Reaching out a hand, she made a move to stop him – only to have him move directly past her, his arms circling about as if he were lost. The smoke was thick, she knew, but it wasn’t impossible to see through it – especially not with their vision.
“Robin! I’m right here! Where in the world are you---“ Her words were cut short as another crack filled the air, signaling the disruption of another beam. As it began to sway before completely separating from the ceiling, she jumped towards the man and grabbed onto him. In her haste, she had misjudged her step, and her foot caught on a downed box, sending them both falling. Thankfully, she managed to control the trajectory of their descent, and as they crashed to the ground just outside of the exit, the final beam slammed to the ground, inches from where Robin had stood.
With a sharp cough, she rolled onto her back and dropped the journal, hands frantically working to remove her burning sweatshirt. Now that she was outside, the cool air brushing against her heated skin, she could feel everything. The adrenaline started to ebb, and with it, the pain came to life. “****, ****, ****. This hurts,” she hissed, her voice thick from smoke and unshed tears as she tossed the burning fabric aside and clutched her arm to her chest. “Are you okay? What were you thinking running into fire, handsome?”
Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the tears that mixed with the soot on her face, her gaze focused on the dangling, flickering exit sign just out of reach. She was a second away from ducking her head and barreling towards it when she heard that familiar voice again – though this time, it was closer. Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the black smoke, his form finally taking shape. At first, she couldn’t believe that he would have been so foolish as to run into the fire – least of all for her – but before she could convince herself otherwise, he was on her. Reaching out a hand, she made a move to stop him – only to have him move directly past her, his arms circling about as if he were lost. The smoke was thick, she knew, but it wasn’t impossible to see through it – especially not with their vision.
“Robin! I’m right here! Where in the world are you---“ Her words were cut short as another crack filled the air, signaling the disruption of another beam. As it began to sway before completely separating from the ceiling, she jumped towards the man and grabbed onto him. In her haste, she had misjudged her step, and her foot caught on a downed box, sending them both falling. Thankfully, she managed to control the trajectory of their descent, and as they crashed to the ground just outside of the exit, the final beam slammed to the ground, inches from where Robin had stood.
With a sharp cough, she rolled onto her back and dropped the journal, hands frantically working to remove her burning sweatshirt. Now that she was outside, the cool air brushing against her heated skin, she could feel everything. The adrenaline started to ebb, and with it, the pain came to life. “****, ****, ****. This hurts,” she hissed, her voice thick from smoke and unshed tears as she tossed the burning fabric aside and clutched her arm to her chest. “Are you okay? What were you thinking running into fire, handsome?”
| R O B I N + B A M B I |
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
One minute Robin was playing Daredevil and rushing into the inferno to save the damsel in distress, and next he had the metaphorical wind knocked from him as he was sent flying backwards and, for the second time in all of five minutes, landed heavily upon his back. There was a crack and crash close by, and he could feel the ground shake beneath him. Every instinct inside of him was telling him to crawl and scramble backwards, to get as far away from the smoke and heat as humanly possible. If they were on a movie set, something was soon to explode.
In fact, with his luck…
”****,” he croaked, hands flying up to grab at Vexen even as his eyes stared, unseeing, over her shoulder. She’d asked a question but he didn’t answer it. Couldn’t answer it. He didn’t have time! It should have occurred to him that blindly grabbing for someone who’d just complained quite profusely about something hurting wasn’t a great idea, but it was the only way he could think to convey his urgency. Or, perhaps like a drowning man can accidentally drown his rescuer, he needed to grab on to something in order to get his balance back.
”We have to move,” he said. ”This… something’s going to go wrong. This is … ****,” he said. He was imagining explosions and flying shrapnel. He was imagining Vexen’s head rolling, her blood splattered all over him. He was imagining the fire causing some unknown underground cavern to cave in, the two of them sucked down into the depths to be buried alive. There were monsters dancing at the edge of the darkness that was now his vision and he was desperate.
”Vexen! Where are you…?! You need to….” he pushed himself up and he stumbled. ”Which way is away…?!” he asked, fingers violently splayed as he searched for something, anything to grab on to, anything to tell him which way he was facing, and where they should go next.
The fire was his fault. It’s because he was coming to the shop, it was his fault. He would have to apologise later. They probably wouldn’t believe him. No one did. They all no doubt thought he was completely insane, to think he was plagued by some demonic force causing bad luck to rain down upon him, like a solitary cloud following only him. But he was convinced. If he’d decided to stay home, this fire would never have happened.
In fact, with his luck…
”****,” he croaked, hands flying up to grab at Vexen even as his eyes stared, unseeing, over her shoulder. She’d asked a question but he didn’t answer it. Couldn’t answer it. He didn’t have time! It should have occurred to him that blindly grabbing for someone who’d just complained quite profusely about something hurting wasn’t a great idea, but it was the only way he could think to convey his urgency. Or, perhaps like a drowning man can accidentally drown his rescuer, he needed to grab on to something in order to get his balance back.
”We have to move,” he said. ”This… something’s going to go wrong. This is … ****,” he said. He was imagining explosions and flying shrapnel. He was imagining Vexen’s head rolling, her blood splattered all over him. He was imagining the fire causing some unknown underground cavern to cave in, the two of them sucked down into the depths to be buried alive. There were monsters dancing at the edge of the darkness that was now his vision and he was desperate.
”Vexen! Where are you…?! You need to….” he pushed himself up and he stumbled. ”Which way is away…?!” he asked, fingers violently splayed as he searched for something, anything to grab on to, anything to tell him which way he was facing, and where they should go next.
The fire was his fault. It’s because he was coming to the shop, it was his fault. He would have to apologise later. They probably wouldn’t believe him. No one did. They all no doubt thought he was completely insane, to think he was plagued by some demonic force causing bad luck to rain down upon him, like a solitary cloud following only him. But he was convinced. If he’d decided to stay home, this fire would never have happened.
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Vexen
- Registered User
- Posts: 45
- Joined: 08 Nov 2016, 02:30
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
When her world was in flames, she was supposed to feel something. There should have been sorrow, fear – at this point, she’d even accept disgust. Instead, she felt nothing. While the fire heated the air, the amber glow beating against their skin, she felt cold. For a moment, the only thing she could manage was to stare straight into the inferno, the smoke burning her eyes until tears streaked her face. She barely heard the man at her side, nor did she notice the way his arms moved frantically, as if searching for her. Her only thought was of the building as it teetered on the edge of complete eradication while the flames ate at it until nothing was left. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I failed you, she thought bitterly as she finally put one hand to the ground, the warm concrete rough against the smooth skin of her palm.
“Calm down, handsome. It’s going to be okay.” The lie fell easily from her tongue as she moved to unsteadily to her feet. It was obvious it wasn’t going to be okay. Her entire life was turning to ash before their eyes, and she was one second away from collapsing to her knees in defeat. Anyone could see that – except… No. No, they couldn’t. As if waking from a fog, the blonde slowly turned to face her would-be hero, eyes narrowing as she gripped his shoulders, her touch meant to ease his panic and keep him in one place. At least long enough for her to figure out why he was acting as if he couldn't see.
He couldn’t see.
He was blind.
****.
“Robin. What happened to you?”
Her voice was quiet, though the underlying tension was hard to miss as she searched his sightless eyes for any sign of damage. Had he hurt himself trying to save her? Had the fire ruined his retinas? Without asking permission, the slender blonde lifted her fingers to his face, her touch gentle as she probed beneath the sockets of his eyes, searching frantically for any sign of damage. There was very little she could do for him – but if she could find the damage, assess how severe it was, she knew she had a chance. It was something she had learned since her death, a power that had proved more useful than the others so far, but if she couldn’t see the damage – if it was internal, or too severe, it was useless.
She was useless.
“Were you hit? Did the smoke hurt you? This is my fault. I’m so sorry, Mr. Little. I’ll get you help. There’s a book – No. There’s not a book any longer. My phone… “ her voice trailed off as she remembered that everything she owned was being eaten alive by flame. “My phone is inside. I might still be able to salvage it. I don’t want to leave you out here, though.” She was rambling at this point; English accent thickening with each word as she suddenly dropped her hand from the strength of his jaw and locked their fingers together, her touch certain, despite the panic expanding within her chest. “I’ll get you somewhere safe, and then I’ll come back so I can get my phone. I should be able to find someone that can help you. I don’t know if I can. My power isn’t that strong. Can you see anything? Is anything else hurt?” She needed to slow down. If she were still human, she would have talked herself into a coma, her mortal lungs unable to handle the air she’d have to expel.
“Calm down, handsome. It’s going to be okay.” The lie fell easily from her tongue as she moved to unsteadily to her feet. It was obvious it wasn’t going to be okay. Her entire life was turning to ash before their eyes, and she was one second away from collapsing to her knees in defeat. Anyone could see that – except… No. No, they couldn’t. As if waking from a fog, the blonde slowly turned to face her would-be hero, eyes narrowing as she gripped his shoulders, her touch meant to ease his panic and keep him in one place. At least long enough for her to figure out why he was acting as if he couldn't see.
He couldn’t see.
He was blind.
****.
“Robin. What happened to you?”
Her voice was quiet, though the underlying tension was hard to miss as she searched his sightless eyes for any sign of damage. Had he hurt himself trying to save her? Had the fire ruined his retinas? Without asking permission, the slender blonde lifted her fingers to his face, her touch gentle as she probed beneath the sockets of his eyes, searching frantically for any sign of damage. There was very little she could do for him – but if she could find the damage, assess how severe it was, she knew she had a chance. It was something she had learned since her death, a power that had proved more useful than the others so far, but if she couldn’t see the damage – if it was internal, or too severe, it was useless.
She was useless.
“Were you hit? Did the smoke hurt you? This is my fault. I’m so sorry, Mr. Little. I’ll get you help. There’s a book – No. There’s not a book any longer. My phone… “ her voice trailed off as she remembered that everything she owned was being eaten alive by flame. “My phone is inside. I might still be able to salvage it. I don’t want to leave you out here, though.” She was rambling at this point; English accent thickening with each word as she suddenly dropped her hand from the strength of his jaw and locked their fingers together, her touch certain, despite the panic expanding within her chest. “I’ll get you somewhere safe, and then I’ll come back so I can get my phone. I should be able to find someone that can help you. I don’t know if I can. My power isn’t that strong. Can you see anything? Is anything else hurt?” She needed to slow down. If she were still human, she would have talked herself into a coma, her mortal lungs unable to handle the air she’d have to expel.
| R O B I N + B A M B I |
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
Robin felt the movement beside him, felt as Vexen moved to stand. The woman was unceremoniously used as an anchor of balance, regardless of how she might also have helped him to rise to his feet. Her fingers roamed his face, her concern all for an injury that occurred … how long ago was it? She’d been there, for however short a time. She’d seen the blood, even if she hadn’t known the extent of his injuries.
Amidst Robin’s panic, Vexen intercepted with her own. Funnily enough, it helped to calm Robin, if only mildly. They weren’t moving, though now that they were standing it would be easy enough to urge. It wasn’t hard for her fingers to interlock with his, given he’d reached to take her hands, to squeeze them reassuringly.
”Vexen, shh. The fire didn’t do it,” he told her. There was no time to explain. Nor was it the time to tell her that Mr Little was far too formal a title and Just Robin, please. ”Nothing else hurts and there’s nothing you or anyone can do to help me. But we’ll both be hurt if we don’t move, Vexen, please,” he said, grabbing at her hands and tugging, moving away from the heat, footsteps blindly moving forward, trusting that the woman with him would stop him if he was going to step right into a sinkhole or a pole or a tree or into oncoming traffic.
”You don’t need your phone. Let it go. Get a new one. I’m sure the phone shop will help with getting you the same number. You’re not going back in there. There’s no one else in there, right?” he said. He already knew the answer. If there was anyone else in the inferno, surely Vexen would be more worried about them than the phone she’d left behind.
”If you leave me somewhere just… don’t go back in. Okay? This is probably my fault. It’s my fault. If I’d decided to go anywhere else tonight…” he said, mumbling the words, cringing to himself. If he’d decided to go to his own shop, would that be the one that would have caught fire? If he’d wanted to go to the mall, or to the bar…
It didn’t matter. He was here now, the fire raging behind them, and they needed to get away. It didn’t matter where they went, it didn’t matter where he went, something was always going to go wrong.
”...****.”
Amidst Robin’s panic, Vexen intercepted with her own. Funnily enough, it helped to calm Robin, if only mildly. They weren’t moving, though now that they were standing it would be easy enough to urge. It wasn’t hard for her fingers to interlock with his, given he’d reached to take her hands, to squeeze them reassuringly.
”Vexen, shh. The fire didn’t do it,” he told her. There was no time to explain. Nor was it the time to tell her that Mr Little was far too formal a title and Just Robin, please. ”Nothing else hurts and there’s nothing you or anyone can do to help me. But we’ll both be hurt if we don’t move, Vexen, please,” he said, grabbing at her hands and tugging, moving away from the heat, footsteps blindly moving forward, trusting that the woman with him would stop him if he was going to step right into a sinkhole or a pole or a tree or into oncoming traffic.
”You don’t need your phone. Let it go. Get a new one. I’m sure the phone shop will help with getting you the same number. You’re not going back in there. There’s no one else in there, right?” he said. He already knew the answer. If there was anyone else in the inferno, surely Vexen would be more worried about them than the phone she’d left behind.
”If you leave me somewhere just… don’t go back in. Okay? This is probably my fault. It’s my fault. If I’d decided to go anywhere else tonight…” he said, mumbling the words, cringing to himself. If he’d decided to go to his own shop, would that be the one that would have caught fire? If he’d wanted to go to the mall, or to the bar…
It didn’t matter. He was here now, the fire raging behind them, and they needed to get away. It didn’t matter where they went, it didn’t matter where he went, something was always going to go wrong.
”...****.”
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Vexen
- Registered User
- Posts: 45
- Joined: 08 Nov 2016, 02:30
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
It didn’t matter how he tried to convince her that the fire had nothing to do with his injuries. Her mind refused to see the logic in it, even as he began to lead them from the flames. “Something can always be done, Mr. Little, you should know that,” she snapped, though it wasn’t his fault. Her world was crumbling at her feet, and he was giving up hope. Hope on what, she hadn’t a clue. Did it matter? He was supposed to believe in the fairytales as much as she did. He was, after all, an avid reader. She had watched him a thousand times when he’d saunter into the bookstore, his eyes bright as he scanned the titles. She couldn’t believe that he would stand before her now and tell her no one could help him.
There was always a way.
Of course, she hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he was referring to. In that moment, with the heat pressing to their back and the fire building higher, she didn’t think to ask. Instead, she pressed her fingers through her soot coated curls and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped, I just… it’s all falling apart. I wasn’t ready. He knew I wasn’t ready!” As she started to ramble again, she cradled her arm to her chest, fingers gently peeling the blackened remains of her sweatshirt from the burn. Her skin was raw and eaten away by fire, the ache causing tears to dance within her oceanic gaze. Hissing in a breath - of thankfully semi-clean air – she finished picking the pieces of cloth free. While she had offered to heal him, it hadn’t occurred to her to use the magic on herself, and instead, she let her arm fall back to her side, stiff fingers curling into a loose fist against her hip as she ignored the pain.
“Protective of me, are we, Mr. Little?” She hadn’t a clue why she had said that. The taunting words had slipped unbidden past her lips. It had to be stress. That was the only reason she would ever thing to act on her budding attraction to one of her best customers – especially knowing that he was taken. Stress. That was definitely it. Clearing her throat, she bit into the inside of her cheek before speaking again, as if the past five seconds hadn’t occurred. “No. No one else is in there, it was just me. The shop has been closed while I tried to get things in order. It was supposed to be opened today, but with the lawyer fighting me every step of the way and the shipments running late… I just got overwhelmed.”
As they came to a stop, she reached out her hands to rest them against his chest, the action meant to steady him in case he were to trip over the curb just a few inches behind him. It had become abundantly clear to her that he was completely blind, and she had the sudden urge – despite everything that had just happened – to shield him from whatever damage might come his way. Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze to his features once more, and studied his eyes for any sign of what had happened to put him in this position. Had it been due to the state she had found him in a few weeks back? I told her to take care of him, she thought bitterly as she finally closed her eyes for a moment, and forced herself to relax.
He had demanded that she not return to the building, and still, she felt that need to rush into the fire and salvage what she could. There had to be something within the inferno that could help him. Mr. Wright had a thousand pieces of literature that he had collected throughout the years – at least one of them would hold some sort of instruction on how she could fix him. Of course, that was if he even wanted to be fixed. Life isn’t a fairytale, Vexen. You can’t control how it turns out, and there isn’t always a happy ending, she reminded herself as she eased her hands from his chest and took a step away, distancing herself from the man.
“How on earth would it be your fault, Mr. Little? Did you douse my building in gasoline and light the match?” Her voice was incredulous as she laughed, the sound strained with the panic and stress of the situation at hand. Lifting her arm to run her fingers through her hair, she swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened to escape before shaking her head once more. “It isn’t your fault. I promise. This has been happening lately, and I’ve my suspicions as to why. It has nothing to do with you.” Stepping closer again, she gently reached for his arms, fingers curling around his biceps to ensure that he didn’t attempt to move without her knowing. Something told her if he did, he’d surely fall.
There was always a way.
Of course, she hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he was referring to. In that moment, with the heat pressing to their back and the fire building higher, she didn’t think to ask. Instead, she pressed her fingers through her soot coated curls and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped, I just… it’s all falling apart. I wasn’t ready. He knew I wasn’t ready!” As she started to ramble again, she cradled her arm to her chest, fingers gently peeling the blackened remains of her sweatshirt from the burn. Her skin was raw and eaten away by fire, the ache causing tears to dance within her oceanic gaze. Hissing in a breath - of thankfully semi-clean air – she finished picking the pieces of cloth free. While she had offered to heal him, it hadn’t occurred to her to use the magic on herself, and instead, she let her arm fall back to her side, stiff fingers curling into a loose fist against her hip as she ignored the pain.
“Protective of me, are we, Mr. Little?” She hadn’t a clue why she had said that. The taunting words had slipped unbidden past her lips. It had to be stress. That was the only reason she would ever thing to act on her budding attraction to one of her best customers – especially knowing that he was taken. Stress. That was definitely it. Clearing her throat, she bit into the inside of her cheek before speaking again, as if the past five seconds hadn’t occurred. “No. No one else is in there, it was just me. The shop has been closed while I tried to get things in order. It was supposed to be opened today, but with the lawyer fighting me every step of the way and the shipments running late… I just got overwhelmed.”
As they came to a stop, she reached out her hands to rest them against his chest, the action meant to steady him in case he were to trip over the curb just a few inches behind him. It had become abundantly clear to her that he was completely blind, and she had the sudden urge – despite everything that had just happened – to shield him from whatever damage might come his way. Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze to his features once more, and studied his eyes for any sign of what had happened to put him in this position. Had it been due to the state she had found him in a few weeks back? I told her to take care of him, she thought bitterly as she finally closed her eyes for a moment, and forced herself to relax.
He had demanded that she not return to the building, and still, she felt that need to rush into the fire and salvage what she could. There had to be something within the inferno that could help him. Mr. Wright had a thousand pieces of literature that he had collected throughout the years – at least one of them would hold some sort of instruction on how she could fix him. Of course, that was if he even wanted to be fixed. Life isn’t a fairytale, Vexen. You can’t control how it turns out, and there isn’t always a happy ending, she reminded herself as she eased her hands from his chest and took a step away, distancing herself from the man.
“How on earth would it be your fault, Mr. Little? Did you douse my building in gasoline and light the match?” Her voice was incredulous as she laughed, the sound strained with the panic and stress of the situation at hand. Lifting her arm to run her fingers through her hair, she swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened to escape before shaking her head once more. “It isn’t your fault. I promise. This has been happening lately, and I’ve my suspicions as to why. It has nothing to do with you.” Stepping closer again, she gently reached for his arms, fingers curling around his biceps to ensure that he didn’t attempt to move without her knowing. Something told her if he did, he’d surely fall.
| R O B I N + B A M B I |
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
THERE'S A LITTLE BIT OF DEVIL IN HER ANGEL EYES
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Robin Little
- Registered User
- Posts: 394
- Joined: 01 Sep 2014, 11:24
Re: Forged In Fire [Robin]
Had Robin known that Vexen had taken over the bookshop? His favoured bookshop? He hadn’t visited much since he’d opened his own, but if they didn’t have a title at Bookface, then he always recommended that they go to Novel Idea. He might have known. He did know, didn’t he? He couldn’t recall. If he really sat down to think about it, it might come clear. But right now he was too concerned with getting them somewhere safe. The sound of sirens in the distance was a relief; all he wanted to do was sink down somewhere and remain as small and as still as possible, so as to limit any more bad luck that might befall the place or the people who had gathered. Now he could hear them, the voices. Concerned whispers, gasps of terror.
Vexen herself was in dismay and Robin knew—not instinctively—that this was happening to her, not to him. This was something he had to swallow and process, something he had to focus on if he wanted to be a decent hu—vampire being.
He hadn’t even known the shop had been closed. Did his staff know? Were they still sending customers there as a second reference? Why did he even start his own businesses, anyway? Surely they were doomed to fail, especially if the boss was reluctant to step onto the premises. The money rolled into the bank, however, in and out like a see-saw, but the profits slowly rising. So it had to be doing okay, right?
”That’s like three times you called me ‘Mr. Little’,” Robin said, eyes hooked on a complete stranger to Vexen’s left, somewhere. He wasn’t too great at figuring out where people were by the sound of their voices, yet. Definitely no Daredevil. ”It’s just Robin,” he added. He definitely did not think that he was sophisticated enough for the ‘Mister’. The words were uttered lazily, like he wasn’t really focused on that thought. No, he was more focused on what she had said last. That this had been happening lately. As if it were common place for bad things to happen to her. His hands groped the air, searching for a shoulder, something that he could grasp.
”What do you mean, though? That this has been happening? What are your suspicions…?” he asked. ”I just… wherever I go bad things happen, right? Stupid things, uncanny things. I’m blind! I’m a vampire and I should heal but I’m blind. I can’t go anywhere without tripping over or being thrown up on or spilling any drink I order or… or… whatever. It’s… what do you mean? Does it happen to you, too? Bad luck wherever you go? More than usual, so much that you think you’re going insane?!” he asked, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, from asking more. She could have been talking about something completely different, in which case his own insanity was starting to show.
Vexen herself was in dismay and Robin knew—not instinctively—that this was happening to her, not to him. This was something he had to swallow and process, something he had to focus on if he wanted to be a decent hu—vampire being.
He hadn’t even known the shop had been closed. Did his staff know? Were they still sending customers there as a second reference? Why did he even start his own businesses, anyway? Surely they were doomed to fail, especially if the boss was reluctant to step onto the premises. The money rolled into the bank, however, in and out like a see-saw, but the profits slowly rising. So it had to be doing okay, right?
”That’s like three times you called me ‘Mr. Little’,” Robin said, eyes hooked on a complete stranger to Vexen’s left, somewhere. He wasn’t too great at figuring out where people were by the sound of their voices, yet. Definitely no Daredevil. ”It’s just Robin,” he added. He definitely did not think that he was sophisticated enough for the ‘Mister’. The words were uttered lazily, like he wasn’t really focused on that thought. No, he was more focused on what she had said last. That this had been happening lately. As if it were common place for bad things to happen to her. His hands groped the air, searching for a shoulder, something that he could grasp.
”What do you mean, though? That this has been happening? What are your suspicions…?” he asked. ”I just… wherever I go bad things happen, right? Stupid things, uncanny things. I’m blind! I’m a vampire and I should heal but I’m blind. I can’t go anywhere without tripping over or being thrown up on or spilling any drink I order or… or… whatever. It’s… what do you mean? Does it happen to you, too? Bad luck wherever you go? More than usual, so much that you think you’re going insane?!” he asked, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, from asking more. She could have been talking about something completely different, in which case his own insanity was starting to show.