Home Is Where The Hart Is ((Halo and the Girls))

[Bodie Hart (DELETED 9028)]

Mood

People like to say that when God closes a door, he opens a window. Now Bodie didn't believe in God but she sure as **** believed in windows. She also believed in trying your best, even when you know that you are the clumsiest chick to walk planet earth and have a one in five chance of landing on your ***. Naturally on her *** she did indeed land, catching her her hip painful when she went tumbling back to the ground from a poorly estimated jump, her saving grace being a big *** pile of multi-coloured leaves that somewhat cushioned the fall. Lemonade out of lemons and all that, the woman proceeded to waste five minutes making a leaf and snow angel from the debris, waving arms and legs frantically so that when she stood a Bodie angel remained. Expectation demanded she **** it up somehow and there would be no disappointing whatever force dictated her dire disaster attraction. A well-timed slip in the leaves had her scuffing stupidly at an angelic arm with her heavy black Doc Martens. She wasn't mad about it, life would be ******* miserable if she got mad every time she made a little mess. “HEY! Now it looks even more like me! **** me, I'm a masterpiece.” It was true, it just wasn’t Bodie without things getting just a little scraped up. There was no way of denying all of this was a delay tactic, Bo still vitally aware of the high chances she’d axe herself on the second attempt at climbing into her girlfriend’s window.

It was always the same, this homecoming routine. Ever since she finished school a whim would have her running off into the sunset, eager to discover the big bad world around her and getting distracted by some shiny thing or fascinating person and following them on their next adventure. She’d followed bands, lounged in studios with artists, sat on a couch staring lovingly into the eyes of a future politician, doted on a doctor in training and when she got bored, inevitably, she would return home. Home no longer really existed, not in a tangible way like a building, some bricks and mortar that had been given personality and preference. Nah, home was three chicks whose arms were always waiting. Tonight she’d picked at random, always just whoever’s room was closest, whoever’s window might be open. There was a rope at this one, carefully pressed to the side of the house but she still had a decent climb and jump to make it the balcony before she was home free.

Attempt number her two had her scrabbling to gain purchase on the rope, palms receiving friction burns that had each pull and grab leaving the skin feeling red raw and hot with pain. Worth it, she told herself, the ledge was in sight and she healed quicker now anyway; the healing was a large part of why she'd made her deal with the devil. One final gasp, one great heave and she was there. She was scrappy, for all her clumsiness, the added strength and durability that came with her blood thief lifestyle didn’t exactly hurt when it came to rope climbing. Carefully she pushed against the side of the house with her foot, giving the necessary extra boost to grip the balcony and drag her *** up. Bo tumbled over the side, landing with a quiet wince and “Oof”, air evacuating her chest on impact. She’d made it and no time was wasted in hauling herself to her feet and making a vague attempt to pluck at the last of the leaves that nestled amongst her dark hair before the final hurdle; the damn window. Actually, it was a big damn window, more like a door really so it should have been easy peasy. It was, surprisingly, Bo making it through without any conundrums.

The room was as familiar as her childhood bedroom, full of memories and the scents that made you feel safe, made you feel secure, made you feel… Trapped. Bo swallowed down the last emotion, it was too soon for that, too soon to taste the desire to be anywhere but “home”. She was excited to be here, it had been months since she’d last stumbled through a bedroom window and crawled into bed beside her babes, to wake them with butterfly kisses. The boots were too loud and were quickly removed, the first thing to go after her bag was dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Each step had her closer to safety, to sleep and she couldn’t wait to sink into it. With fumbling fingers she tugged at her jeans, hopping awkwardly to remove them as she approached the bedside, knowing that sleep in the damn things was basically an impossibility. The oversized t-shirt she wore was the perfect makeshift night shirt, black faded near to grey so that the once bright green alien smiley face looked more like a murky sea monster, cotton softened to the point of bordering on threadbare from wear. It had been simultaneously her best and worst choice of the night, the thin fabric no match for the winter weather and the coat she stripped last had sustained an impressive gash down the back. A mental note was made for clothes, borrow or buy clothes that weren't entirely useless for Canada. ******* Canada. Nothing now between her and blissful rest. Gentle tugs had the blankets carefully drawn back on the empty patch beside the sleeping beauty, allowing space for the restless one to crawl into the bed with her girl. Halo was this month’s lucky recipient of a Bo in her bed, the raven-haired flake pressing flush against her pal, curling around the curves she found. This was her home, here in the darkness beside someone she cared about, mouth pressing a chaste kiss to a shoulder blade, nuzzling her face in as she luxuriated in the comfort of a bed that she knew. Yeah, home was good sometimes.

[Halayla (DELETED 9006)]

There were women who slept like beautiful angels, tangled in their sheets and draped over the mattress like their bodies were malleable and light just like the linens that bound them, like they were one and the same. There were others who maybe didn't look as divine but slept neatly, curled into a cozy ball like a cat, burrowed under layers of warm blankets, safely snoozing away. Either way, the women appeared serene or endearing. Sights that maybe painters like Waterhouse would've captured on a canvas and released to the world for everyone to marvel over.

Halo was neither of these types of women.

Halo's idea of a comfortable night's sleep was to sprawl all her limbs out over the massive expanse of her canopy bed. Never mind the fact that she was just a few inches over five feet and didn't have much in the way of limbs to spare. Generally speaking, she was on her stomach with her face buried in her pillow, muffling the sounds of her soft snoring. She slept with a blanket, despite the season, but somehow, every morning she'd wake up shivering with it being a useless heap on the floor.

This night was no different.

It had been a long, stressful day. Finals were wrapping up and Halo had spent her entire day locked in a lecture hall with nearly a hundred other students and they were all taking the same Classics exam. It wasn't difficult, she'd found but it was long. Five hours to write it and at the last half hour, she still had three pages left to slog through. Of course, everything at the point had been answered in a rush, the blue marks left by her pen smearing words together as her wrist and fingers began to ache from the constant curled position they had been in for so long.

Once the exam was over, she had spent a good five minutes in the nearest washroom, her hand hovering under the tap as it poured cold water over her throbbing digits. The physical pain was nothing though compared to the anxiety she felt about her haste in that last half hour. The entire rest of the day, through froyo with Cassie and Nee, taking the family pet out for a walk, while watching reruns of Friends and even when she was curled up on Moon's couch in his apartment, her mind was bogged down with the worry that she had somehow managed to **** up everything she had learned in the last few months in those thirty or so odd minutes.

Needless to say, by a very early 10pm, she was exhausted.

It had been a quick retreat to bed as her mind begged for mercy and for some time to recuperate overnight. The second her face hit her pillow, and it did quite literally hit her pillow as she collapsed, did she find her conscious mind flickering in and out of wakefulness before her system shut down entirely.

At least until she felt a cooler form next to her own, curling her up like a child and cradling her from her day's demons. Blindly and still mostly asleep, Halo pat around to check and see which of the girls had joined her tonight. It wasn't unusual for them to join her at night. Her door, or rather her window was always open to them in case they needed company or solitude or a giant tub of Rocky Road ice cream. In fact, Halo looked forward to her girls visiting her. Even if they didn't speak, it made the silence of her room that much less daunting.

Halo smiled sleepily before twisting around to face the other girl, eyes still closed though her forehead bumped against the others.

"Lovehart~" she greeted her in a groggy croon.

[Bodie Hart (DELETED 9028)]

A hand found her, tracing against her skin as if trying to find some kind of sign of who it might be that was invading her bed. In many ways she might be mistaken for one of the others by touch alone, of similar height to one, the length of hair of another but Bodie's skin was a roadmap of her life. Where her best girl Pia wore tattoos, Bodie wore scars. Most were so faded it was hard to recognise there existence of them against her pale skin, slivers of silver that were as faint in colour as the memories of how they were received. A particularly notable scar was the one down her forearm, or the ridge of puckered flesh beneath a clavicle. Halo would know them, she'd traced them in the past, for comfort or in loving agitation when they were fairly new. She had older scars, scars she'd worn since they'd met on the playground. An often smiling Bodie, a band-aid on her cheek and grazed knees, had decided the younger girl had potential, becoming a constant companion and encourager of ridiculous activities. Little did she know how much potential lay dormant, in all of them. Perhaps it was what drew them together in the first place, what overcame differences to help them find commonality and purpose with each other. Four corners, perfectly aligned and powerful in their own unique ways. Now THAT was Bodie's kind of foursome.

Her name was on the other's lips, a fond nickname rarely used by anyone else and then she turned. Such a pretty face, so innocent in her sleepy state that one could mistake for an angel. Bo knew better. Lips puckered, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of her friend's nose, leaning back to get a better look at her. "Hey, I didn't mean to wake you, Snorlax. Sorry it's so late."