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Fixing a Hole

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Fixing a Hole

Post by Alisa Donnikova on Mon Nov 26, 2012 11:54 pm

"Hey... I know its been a while..."
No shit it had.

"But I wanted to talk.... About stuff...When're you free?"
Why was she doing this.
".... Cool. I'll uh.... see you then."
This was a mistake.

Alisa Donnikova, Survivalist, Two-Hands, mercenary extraordinaire, was afraid. She was fucking terrified right now. She was doing something she had never thought that she would ever do. She was going to talk to Spade, and she was going to resolve what had... happened... between them. Or what hadn't happened.... FUCK SHE DIDN'T KNOW!! Ok, so two things that she never thought she'd ever do. She was currently sitting on the train into the city, for once.... not appearing at all like she usually did. Autumn chill was on the air, and though she had her default outfit that she wore most of the time, she actually had more clothes now to wear to fight off the cold. And.... she was actually ok with a lot of things right now. She owed King a bigger debt than what he had asked of her. She swore to herself that she would pay that debt if it cost her her life. He was a person that she would be willing to die for. And... it made her realize something. There was another that she was still willing to die for. And that person? Was Spade Aeries.

That had to be the reason she had decided to look through her phone for that dusty old contact that she had never been able to delete for one reason or another. Her legs were crossed, black combat boots wrapped tight about her feet. The bottom of her black jeans that hugged so close to her legs were hidden beneath the top of her boots that rose to about the middle of her calf, the waist line hugging low on her hips. There was still a bit of her midsection exposed, that just seemed to be a thing she did. Her black turtleneck was short and also hugged tight to her curvy form, ending at about her rib-cage though the sleeves were a little long. They actually hid a bit of her hands that still were sheathed in their fingerless biker gloves. Her hair was fully down, a black beenie hat keeping the warmth in. Her holsters were obvious as day against all of the black of her clothes, but she didn't particularly care, the ivory inlay of her beloved Cutlass' an even greater contrast than the brown of the leather. Her chocolate eyes were staring at the scenery that flew by, ears perking up to the soft voice of the announcer over the loud speaker. Central Station. Central Station.

Well... This was it...

Picking up the duffle bag at her feet, she slung it heavily over her shoulder, sighing heavily. Ok... She could do this.... No big deal... She was... over..him... The painting that still remained in Aerugo flashed in her mind, an aching pain returning for a moment that put a pause in her step as she walked away on the train platform towards the exit. Dammit.... It was something that was never going to fucking go away was it?! Closing her eyes, her brows knitted tightly together as she took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. The sunlight streamed over her as a wind rustled her form, pulling the hat off to stuff in her bag as she came to a stop beside a bench outside of the station. Much had been destroyed and rebuilt since the last time she had been there, then again she knew that a war had been going on. She was about to close her bag when she paused, reaching her hand to pluck her sketchbook out of it. Her hands lingered before flipping slowly through the pages, staring at each memory that had been captured upon the page, completely stopping at the most detailed one.

The sketchbook snapped shut as she pulled her bag across her shoulder again, growling at her fresh weakness, shaking her head again. "Dammit..." She muttered before heading off towards the cafe that Spade had mentioned to her over the phone. God..... Someone.... Something... Give her the strength to get through this.
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Spade Aeries on Thu Nov 29, 2012 7:28 pm

"Yeah it's been a while. Listen I--"
No room for talk.
"Talk? I'm free tomorrow 10 AM I'd guess. We could meet up at cafe Lumiere?"
He tried; he always tried.
"See you then...
Click. Beep beep beep. Call ended.

Spade Aeries, addictive gambler, Head of Central HQ, excessive drunk was exorbitantly terrified. Ali Ababwa called him yesterday for cripe's sake. When things panned out, he really didn't have a clue what the fuck he was doing. Hospital beds and a game of tag it felt like; running away from doctors--the whole shazam. He'd realized it at some point--at some point, he'd realized it: he loved Shula Brighton. He didn't know when, perhaps it was seven lifetimes ago. Spade didn't really dwell on the little things--didn't sweat the small nuances of 'perchance'; he rolled with it. He rolled with it when Alisa said she couldn't go with him, thus blinded by a deluge of buried emotion. He was a coward who embraced flight, too afraid to lose something a second time so he chose to lose it anyway. It made sense. In his head was probably the only place. Yet she beat it--she beat him, forcing him to admit it, no, having him fall prey to what he thought was right when really it was a ruse of his own mind. He wanted to love again--he clung to Ali as a beacon of hope, convinced himself it was right. It was all he desired. Blind to the truth, "Is it too late to love you?" he'd uttered himself--fell prey to guilt, to reason, to his own sense of remorse, and then some. The table he was stuck at--the cards in his hands already played--he'd turned around and said all those things when really she had no idea.

Alisa Donnikova had never known the real Spade--had never explored the reason why he used to drink so much every night at the bar. Why had he said so much, yet nothing at all? There was someone he couldn't let go of--no there were two people: one in the past and one in the present. Her name was Shirley, but her picture was gone from him now; he had given it to the other: Shu. He couldn't let go of her now, and he couldn't let go of her ever. Those words he'd blurted in the throws of pain--when he thought he was losing her--when Shula was gripped by death were the only real words he had ever said. At least it felt like it. To this day, he didn't deserve her.

Ugh morning hurt. He rolled over. Bad dreams again. Felt like he didn't sleep at all. Spade moaned and flipped over again, stuffing his face in a pillow as if it would save him from the memories. Oh, it never would. Cruel, cruel mind, why didn't dreamcatchers actually work?! They were a trick--damn wive's tales. He'd never fucking win at this game, so fold? Nah, he couldn't. Sometimes--sometimes he was just too damn much of a good guy. He couldn't ditch her; he couldn't ignore her. He faced his mistakes head on (which was probably why he had so many scars). No matter, he'd go...if his bed allowed him. It was looking grim for another ten minutes until he dragged his sorry ass out from under the covers and meandered around like a zombie. Clothes were lazily strewn about, reflecting his exhaustion in more than one way. He still hadn't recovered from saving Shu from that bastard Raistlin who was given a marble in exchange for his memories of her. All around tired 24-7, he felt like he had mono or some other strange disease that was eating his energy and landing him lethargic beyond all measure. Still, he had to get dressed no matter what excuse he had lined up to avoid not sleeping the day away again.

Finding discarded jeans, he went to put them on, but froze. Wait. Dressing like a slob for an ex wasn't smart. She'd probably be all dressed up and looking her best, but then again, no. This was Alisa; she'd probably just be her normal self. What was he doing over thinking everything... He had to chill, yet at the same time, he probably should at least wear clean clothes. Dresser. Drawer. He dug through it, finding a pair of tight-fitting black jeans he used to wear gambling. They were lucky (maybe they'd save his life). Because honestly, if he was her, he'd stab himself with something painful. He grabbed a black long-sleeved man sweat and squeezed it over his head, feeling somewhat strange being not in uniform for once. God, when had life gotten this bad? He used to be exempt from wearing a uniform. Now he felt weird without it!? Dog tags jingling around his neck, he brushed his teeth, used nice cologne, sleeked his hair, and left. The Womanizer Mobile greeted him in a haphazard parking job with a seat that he had to spend five whole minutes adjusting so he could even fit in it. Was it so obvious that Shu had drive home? Haha--so amusing.

Engine revving, he sped off to the parking lot at Cafe Lumiere. He found one immediately because who the hell was stupid enough to go anywhere at 10 AM on a sunday?! He was. Well, should he go in or wait outside? He knew the drill for dates, but this was--this was... What was this?

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Alisa Donnikova on Sun Dec 02, 2012 4:51 pm

Lumiere.... Lumiere.... Fucking construction, where the fuck was shit anymore?! Alisa bit her lower lip as she adjusted her hold on the bag slung over her shoulder, ignoring how people were staring at her with her guns so prominent upon the black of her clothes. Before she would have snapped at them, snarling a "what are you looking at?!" But today? Today things were entirely different, and she was even a different woman. Heh, who the fuck thought that was going to happen huh? She certainly didn't. As she slowed to a stop for the streetlights to change, a gust of wind blew past and she couldn't help but want to ask the wind, "Is this what you wanted father? Or you, mother?" Gritting her teeth, she instantly wanted to retract that from the wind, but they were gone to join the unwanted thoughts of the world. Fuck she had gotten soft. Shaking her head, she crossed as the little man blinked white, her other hand stuffing itself in the front pocket of her pants.

Looking up, she saw the sign for her designated location, her heart pounding in her throat as she gulped and hurriedly pulled out a cigarette to light it. Her hand was fucking shaking, shaking for Christs sake! Maybe he wasn't here yet, maybe she still had time to-- A car sped past and pulled into the parking lot, her entire body freezing in its place as she just stared wide eyed at where the car had gone. Oh she knew that car, she knew it very well. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!. She stood there outside, taking the biggest draw on her life on that poor death stick, half of it practically vanishing as she exhaled in one long stream. She whirled around and faced away from where he would walk up, leaning against a part of the wall as casually as she could. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her, she wasn't dressed like she usually was after all. Maybe he would just walk inside and she could---"For fucks sake." She muttered to herself, gritting her teeth as she took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. This was just Spade. He wasn't going to eat her alive, he wasn't going to attack her, he wasn't going to be some asshole about this, he wasn't... going.... to be like he was before.

Her head bowed as the smoke from her cig drifted past her face, thinking of when she had run into Shula all that time ago. The painting flashed in her mind again, wounds from the broken glass stinging against her flesh even though they had long healed over now. He wasn't hers anymore. No words had ended them, no story-book, "I'm breaking up with you." None of that. Once she knew... She had just left him alone. She vanished from his life and went on a rampage of booze, jobs swirled up with paint, tears, and trashed hide-outs. She had let a single man bring her down so low, and that man was in the parking lot. And she was going to speak with him. Taking one last drag, she pushed herself up and cast it away into the street, cracking her neck as she turned to face the restaurant and the man that had changed her life so. She slipped inside before he could see her and got a table for two by the window, sitting down as her bag hit the floor with a thud. A waitress came over and she ordered a coffee, really wishing that they could serve some bailey's or something to help soothe her frazzled nerves.

Placing her hands flat upon the table, she bit her lower lip and pulled out her sketchbook, doing her best to not look out the window towards the parking lot, highly aware of the Spade-mobile that was there. A pencil was produced as she flipped to a fresh page to start sketching for somehow painting and drawing was always an extremely calming thing for her. Probably one of the only things in life that did aside from a booze-coma, pot, and killing. She was more than just a wild dog in the gutter snapping at the world, King had taught her that. She still produced beauty, she wasn't just a tool for destruction, and Spade hadn't seen that in her. He hadn't helped her realize that. He had shown her that she could be loved, and that she could love, for better or for worse. He had shown her that betrayal still fucking sucked, and that.... ah fuck it. Her coffee came which she only looked up at and nodded to the waitress in thanks before going back to the lines that were growing on that white sheet in front of her. She was going to pull out this thorn in her soul now, she was going to fix the hole that had been created in her life, and she was going to move on. She was fine now. She could do this.
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Spade Aeries on Mon Dec 10, 2012 2:17 am

She was totally already there. He saw her before he even parked. She was eating a cigarette. Maybe he wasn't the only one having a heart attack over this? Hell, he had just finished tw--three? He stubbed the one out that had just previously been between his lips, shifting gears as he slid easily into a front spot (out of sheer luck). Crickets. 'Cause no one was fucking here that's why! Sighing out a gust of smoke, he ran a careless hand through his windblown hair. Alright. Well, she just turned away, pretending that she didn't just see the Seven pull up. AS IF THERE WERE ANYONE ELSE COMING ON A SUNDAY. He massaged his temples and cried a little inside. Man tears. This was hard. It was unusually hard. Why? Because he was the one that fucked up. How many hearts had he broken in his playboy career? A bunch prolly, but never like this. He never used words like love--never wiped a girl's memory in order to run away--never asked for 'em back under the pretense of a lie. It made him want to eat a cigarette too. They would probably taste bad though.

Spade paused just a moment--just a moment enough to see her turn around towards the cafe. Hell, she wasn't the only one delving into reverie. He was surprised she was even walking--it was dangerous, you know. Could run into a wall or something spacing out that hardcore. He opened his door, brushing off the ash from his tan overcoat. God, he reeked of smoke. So much for the cologne. Well, maybe he just couldn't smell it anymore. His nostrils were burned out from all that shit. Straightening himself up, he strode to the front door of Lumiere in a direct path like he was going to WAR. He was so ready for this. He could do it! He just had t-- He tripped over the curb, nearly face planting into 97' Honda Accord. Rusty. Red with a few dents not caused by the driver. Probably bought on Craig's List. Easy Sale. Smooth. No hubcaps. College student. Most likely studying right now. In their 20's. Liked Doraemon. Fuckin' Aerugese. He picked himself up, squinting away from the car and back towards his destination. Why was getting places so very hard?

Ah! He caught sight of Alisa peering at him from inside. He waved retardedly with a crooked smile and then continued walking. He pulled open the door, ignoring the finger smudges all over the glass from a neglectful cleaner. He could tell just from a glance nearly all of the contents of customers that came within the last 24 hours. No sweat. One of them belonged to Alisa. Probably the one closer to the handle, trailing, fragile--slender, but at the same time, rough, callused, used. The door bell rang alerting the staff that Spade fucking Aeries just walked through their unclean doors. Not they they should care--not that he cared if anyone noticed the jarring dogtags so apparent on his person. He hoped they didn't. It'd be better for them all. Autographs were so overrated. God. He really just wanted a drink. Bailey's would do. They damn well better have that or he would be so very let down. Nah, they definitely had it. There was no question. If they called themselves Cafe Lumiere, they def. had Bailey's.

"Hello sir, may I offer you a seat?"

"Nah, I'm good." The waitress looked at him awkwardly. Spade flashed her his ladykiller smile and she fell into pieces in his hands.

"Can I offer you anything else?"

"Other than your number?" Spade played, on a whim, out of habit. He flicked his sunglasses on top of his head with a wink. "Or how 'bout you scrounge up some Bailey's for me and that lady over there?" Point. This early, damn he needed somethin'.

"I uh--uhm alright right away." Success #1 complete. Spade turned from her and beelined it for Alisa. Completely naturally, he flopped down into a chair and threw his elbows onto the table like a real man.

"Hey there. Sup?" He smiled a moment, but shifted, leaning his chin on his palm seemingly in some thought. "You look great." Surface level. It was him through and through, yet at the same time it wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough. He glanced away to the window, lost a moment. "Shirley always liked sitting by the window." He tucked his hand further under his chin with an quiet sigh. "She'd always insist, you know? She said she liked to look out of it. But now I think that she wasn't just lookin' at the scenery..."

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Spade Aeries
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Alisa Donnikova on Tue Dec 11, 2012 2:14 am

A picture began to form on that blank page as she saw Spade get out of his car. Her heart throbbed painfully once for a single moment as she managed a sort of wave back, forcing her eyes downward as she inwardly cursed at how he STILL made her cheeks flush at his appearance. That chestnut hair, the sunglasses, the swagger to his walk, and those eyes. Well, she couldn't see them from that quick glance, but she knew they were there behind that black plastic and glass. It was probably best she had missed his complete stumble into the car near his, though maybe it would have made her feel better. Either way, the soft scritching on the page was certainly smoothing her nerves out as well as a bailey's would. A face was beginning to form, the hinted shapes of eyes, a nose, and lips blooming into life. But there was a second shape that was forming beside it, though its purpose wasn't exactly clear at the moment.

The bells jingled, her hands began to shake. Taking a deep breath, she tried to continue the line, but then... "Hello sir, may I offer you a seat?" "Nah, I'm good." That voice. She froze in her chair, the pencil tip snapping which startled her back into the world. A shiver rolled down her spine as her pulse quickened, and she wasn't sure if she hated that he still could cause that in her, or if she liked it. Biting her lower lip, she cursed under her breath about her broken pencil and shoved it frustratedly in her bag before closing her sketchbook, her ears perking up at, "Or how 'bout you scrounge up some Bailey's for me and that lady over there?" She was a dumb shit, she should have just asked for fucks sake! Ugh... whatever, it wasn't like she was working at the best capacity at the moment. She was a regular hot mess. She straightened up with the zip from her bag just as he sat down at their table, heat radiating from her at how her heart beat so. Spade... was within five feet of her. He was here, and he was real. He wasn't some specter created from her drug and alcohol induced misery.

"Hey there. Sup?" So easy. So... like nothing had happened. It was like he hadn't changed at all since last she saw him which really did seem like super long ago. Her elbows soon rested on the table as she picked up her coffee cup and sort of sat there awkwardly, a semi-neutral expression upon her features. Ok, maybe she was really just at a loss and it was COMPLETELY fucking obvious. God fucking dammit. "You look great." She blushed as her eyes lowered, the glass clinking as it was placed back in the saucer, her hand resting on the table as she slowed her breathing in an attempt to make her heart stop racing. If it beat any faster, it would turn into the Flash and end up on the other side of the fucking world. Dammit Spade! She managed to look up and offer him a weak smile just before he turned his gaze out of the window, her chocolate eyes following his as she leaned back in her chair. "Shirley always liked sitting by the window." Shirley? She never remembered him mentioning a Shirley before, and this drew her to watch him as opposed to staring off into space with him.

..... dammit. The way his hand was tucked, his chin---ARGH DAMMIT SPADE AERIES STOP MAKING HER FALL FOR HIM ALL OVER AGAIN. She couldn't even say anything to him! Fuck!! "She'd always insist, you know? She said she liked to look out of it. But now I think that she wasn't just lookin' at the scenery..." The waitress came up and placed their bailey's down on the table, Alisa immediately taking a sip as she sighed heavily before placing the glass down. "She sounds like she was important to you. There's a lot to see out there, and in more than one way." It was her turn to drift off as she looked back out the window to the city outside, not even seeing the cars or construction that was taking place. "It's like there are prisms to explore, facets that you don't quite notice with a quick peek." Her voice grew soft before she took a deeper breath and shook her head, her eyes darting from the table top back up to him. "......I'm sorry." The words were sudden, and she barely even knew what was now coming out of her mouth. "I... sorta disappeared after we split up at the hospital. Ran into your girlfriend though in South. She seems nice."

Back out the window her eyes turned, a hand brushing a couple of strands behind her ear though the longer locks decided to fall in front of her shoulder. "I mean... ah fuck." She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair, scratching the back of her head as she appeared clearly frustrated at herself. What the fuck was she doing? Down went some more baileys along her throat. "I guess I just feel like maybe I should have checked in sooner, or something..." Because I still love you. Those words did not leave her lips for there was no way to say them to him. He had another woman that was probably far better suited for him than she would ever be, no matter how it might hurt. She took another deep breath as she managed to call up a smile for him, clasping her hands as she leaned on the table, her brown eyes resting upon him with a warmth that only he had ever gotten to see. "So. What have you been doing? World gone to shit yet?"
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Spade Aeries on Tue Jan 08, 2013 1:01 am

"WAITSTOP." He held up a hand, shaking his head and half rising from his chair with a horrified look in his eyes. The coffee cup Alisa had lifted from the saucer was lacking something essential. "The Bailey's," he murmured. Clink. A bottle was attunely placed on the table by the waitress he had seen approaching from the corner of his eye. Sunglasses slid further down his nose as he turned completely to face the bottle immediately lifted and poured into a glass in which Alisa didn't hesitate to take. That was better. More like it. Yes.

"She sounds like she was important to you." Oh, but she was. All those hung over mornings, sweet Bailey's always saved the day. What was coffee without it--what was living without it!? That, and bacon: the greasy splendor and so much mo-- "There's a lot to see out there, and in more than one way." Hold it right there. Spade double-glanced the Bailey's bottle as if it grew two heads (not that it even had one) and opened his mouth, thumb-pointing at its shapely curves. He was silenced by Alisa's trailing gaze back to the window. She wasn't talking about the Bailey's, was she (how unfortunate). "It's like there are prisms to explore, facets that you don't quite notice with a quick peek." Hah, she'd be surprised how much could be determined at a glance.

The shaking of her head made him pause, lips to the edge of the bottle about to take a swig because the waitress only poured one glass before scurrying off. Fine then. (And if she wanted another glass, it wasn't like they hadn't made out already). He swallowed nothing. WOAHWAITONEMOTHERFUCKIN'SECOND. Not...not one--not one curse word yet...YET from her lips. None. Zilch. "......I'm sorry." He nearly choked on his own saliva. "I... sorta disappeared after we split up at the hospital. Ran into your girlfriend though in South. She seems nice." There was only so much... Wouldn't it just be better to leave it all in the past? Not talk about it, drink about it--no. He let a crooked smile shine through, a softness like squinting through leaves baked in piano-filled sunlight entering those twin emerald eyes. That was the old him.

Alisa was visibly frustrated with herself, that much was clear. She kept sighing--kept touching her hair like an uncomfortable girl facing her fears and that which threw her off balance. They were both off balance now, teetering so far on the edge, that the table under both their pairs of elbows should be far more skewed than it already was. Ripples. Rippled in her glass counting down the rhythm in the cafe like the hands of a clock strangling them. It had been so very long. "I guess I just feel like maybe I should have checked in sooner, or something... So. What have you been doing? World gone to shit yet?"

"Stay that way," Spade blurted, leaning forward to look at her more closely. "Where you don't have to force it. It's...it's better that way." He grinned like a dork. "Your smile." Something about it made him want to take her hand and tell her that he wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to tell her stories--tell her why--the real reason. He wanted to make up for all that lost time; he wanted to fill it in with more than just Bailey's. "I'm sorry. There's more to it. ...I hate window seats." A dark look entered his eyes, raw power leaking suddenly. Out of control. Distracted. He took a deep breath to regain control over the pulse channeling through him constantly, refocusing on that tangible brown. "We're engaged, Shu and I. I--I...have a habit of lying to myself. There are...some things that are unforgivable. I'm not...really who I seem; you know that. There's reasons. Even all the atrocities I've committed...have excuses tied to them: unprofessional, inexcusable, ungentlemanly excuses that just make me sick. The last time I saw you--before today that is--I blurted it all out in shambles. That's how I left myself: in shambles. It's how I felt I belonged. Not a man, but pieces tied together with excuse after excuse after excuse. There was no end--no end until I realized that something I had said once wasn't just comfort. I was losing Shula...slowly; she... I told her I loved her. But it was when I didn't believe that it was actually true. Ha-ha, what can I say, I'm a bastard through and through--a bastard who didn't even believe in himself. There's so much death in my life--it's like I'm leaving them all behind. Stepping over skeletons that cannot speak..." He was staring at the bottle as if it were a lifeline. His callused digits still clung to it, feverishly scraping the glass just inches from his pursed lips. He did not drink it. He made a promise.

"I did the same thing to you and I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't. I ran away twice. The first girl I ever loved tricked me into a scheme--twisted me up in a web of lies that coerced me secretly into the failure of my career as a detective. You said there are so many prisms and so many facets hidden by the misconception of a quick peek, but not to me. The booze deterred details in blurs, heralding any sort of deductions. I wasn't myself, but I was happier. Blind, bumbling, none of it mattered to me so long as I forgot--forgot that I killed her. I killed her, Ali. Cold blood. She shot me first though. I nearly lost my mind. It was a trick--a trap. She wanted me dead. My real name...it isn't Spade--it isn't even Sakuya Aeries..." He took a gulp just then of that Bailey's, laughing the second the burn hit.

"I break promises: just broke one. ...Spade was a man I invented to cope with being nearly killed by Shirley; Sakuya was the name I took when I was cast out of my home to study in Creta. So, this man who had Shirley betray me, his name was Frank Summers. Owned my favorite bar in Central. Died in the bombs. I'd see him every Saturday. He didn't recognize me, and I never got to kill him. That's who I really am." He clasped a hand over Alisa's placing the bottle down between them. "I'm a fool, nothing more, nothing less, but at least I'm lucky--lucky enough to find someone who'd love me back, and lucky enough to be here right now talking to someone who gives more than two shits."

[Uhm...I think Spade just beat Jackyll's absurd monologues.]


Last edited by Spade Aeries on Sat Jan 12, 2013 12:28 am; edited 1 time in total

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Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Spade Aeries
LUCKY STRIKE

Posts : 311
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Location : In a bar with a pretty lady

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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Alisa Donnikova on Tue Jan 08, 2013 11:05 pm

"WAITSTOP. The Bailey's." She barely reacted to his horror at how she had almost taken a sip of her coffee before the Bailey's had arrived, her mind too focused on what in gods fucking name she was going to say to him. The words were so hard to conjure, so hard to bring into some semblence of reality or sense to her. Was anything she was saying making any fucking sense? God dammit, could she smoke in here? Another gulp of Bailey's for it was the only constant friend she had ever had in this god forsaken world, and it would probably be the only constant friend she would ever have. She raised her eyes in time enough to catch that crooked smile that she knew so well and had missed so fucking much, and she instantly wished she hadn't. God DAMMIT, why did it have to pull at her heart so?! THAT was the Spade she had first met, that she had..... She wanted to sigh but she didn't, instead only finishing her thought as her glass hit the table. This wasn't them. But.... they could never go back to how they were... ever. That time had long since passed, ever since he ran off from her in that hospital where they both had been recovering, when she first knew that there was another lurking within his mind. So quickly had she found him again after he wiped her memory, yet so quickly had she lost him... forever.

"Stay that way," Huh? Alisa sat up a little in surprise at his sudden words, an eyebrow raising as she now faltered in any kind of calm she had managed to pull together. That small smile now vanished as she stared at him, wanting to lean back from him since he had drawn closer to her, deny those temptations that grew when he became so close--No. Instead, she had frozen in place as he explained himself, "Where you don't have to force it. It's...it's better that way." No, don't grin like that... Don't when he was so--"Your smile." Now she did sit back in her chair, tearing her gaze away from him as her hands trembled against the coffee cup. She quickly let go of it and fumbled with the top of the bottle, lifting it to her lips to gulp that fiery liquid there, a stone getting lodged in her throat despite how it flowed down into her belly. Don't say such words with such an expression. It wasn't fair, did he know what it did to her? What it made her want to do?! Taking a deep breath, her chocolate eyes stared out the window for a moment as she tried to swallow that fucking stone, pulling her hands into her lap to hide their shaking. It wasn't fair that he could make her so unsteady so easily.

It wasn't until she saw his mouth open out of the corner of her eye did she slowly turn her head back to face him, clasping her hands together tightly. He would not see her hands, no. "I'm sorry. There's more to it. ...I hate window seats." Her brows furrowed slightly as she noted that dark look, forcing her to now lean a bit more forward to stare at him. Something just sent a quake through his world and it dropped him down into darker places that she did not know in the least bit. "We're engaged, Shu and I." Her brain tripped on that phrase. "-engaged-" The whole sentence looped a total of three times before it really sank into her and its impact hit her like a freight train. As if her hands weren't clenched tight enough already, they certainly were so now, her knuckles almost white as she could only lift a slight eyebrow to show her surprise. The rest of her was sort of.... frozen. Paused. En...Engaged.... They were getting married. "I--I...have a habit of lying to myself. There are...some things that are unforgivable. I'm not...really who I seem; you know that. There's reasons. Even all the atrocities I've committed...have excuses tied to them: unprofessional, inexcusable, ungentlemanly excuses that just make me sick. The last time I saw you--before today that is--I blurted it all out in shambles. That's how I left myself: in shambles. It's how I felt I belonged. Not a man, but pieces tied together with excuse after excuse after excuse. There was no end--no end until I realized that something I had said once wasn't just comfort. I was losing Shula...slowly; she... I told her I loved her." Another sting, another slam of that freight train into her titanium gates that began to crack. No, she had known... She had always known there was another... hadn't she? She had to have noticed. Why had she told him no when he asked her to run away with him that first time? Maybe... Maybe they wouldn't have ended up like this. Maybe this--- God who the fuck was she kidding?! "But it was when I didn't believe that it was actually true. Ha-ha, what can I say, I'm a bastard through and through--a bastard who didn't even believe in himself. There's so much death in my life--it's like I'm leaving them all behind. Stepping over skeletons that cannot speak..."

Yeah, he was a bastard alright. The bastard that caused her to cast aside all teachings that had been embedded into her from birth. The bastard that she had saved from his crumbling apartment. The bastard that had wiped her memories because he was fucking scared of hurting her. Her. The fucking tank! The bastard that she remembered in that fucking country that she hated with all her fucking soul, if she even had a goddamn soul. The bast---- Yeah. He was a bastard, but he had been her bastard. Hell, he still WAS her bastard, and a fucking engagement wasn't going to ever change that. "I did the same thing to you and I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't. I ran away twice. The first girl I ever loved tricked me into a scheme--twisted me up in a web of lies that coerced me secretly into the failure of my career as a detective. Her expression finally changed as her gaze focused with a rare intensity upon him, those brows knitting together as she leaned forward, the stone in her throat forgotten. He had only mentioned this Shirley maybe once or twice, but he had never opened up to her about the woman. He had never... trusted... her enough. "You said there are so many prisms and so many facets hidden by the misconception of a quick peek, but not to me. The booze deterred details in blurs, heralding any sort of deductions. I wasn't myself, but I was happier. Blind, bumbling, none of it mattered to me so long as I forgot--forgot that I killed her. I killed her, Ali. Cold blood. She shot me first though. I nearly lost my mind. It was a trick--a trap. She wanted me dead. She opened her mouth to speak, but he wasn't done. My real name...it isn't Spade--it isn't even Sakuya Aeries..."

Wh-What.... Did he honestly think she-- "I break promises: just broke one. ...Spade was a man I invented to cope with being nearly killed by Shirley; Sakuya was the name I took when I was cast out of my home to study in Creta. So, this man who had Shirley betray me, his name was Frank Summers. Owned my favorite bar in Central. Died in the bombs. I'd see him every Saturday. He didn't recognize me, and I never got to kill him. That's who I really am." As he spoke, her expression growing somehow harder and darker, yet more gentle. But the harshest darkness was banished when his hand rested upon her, intaking her next breath a little sharper than she meant to. She had to close her eyes and bow her head slightly, reminding herself again and again that things were not as they were before. To not do anything fucking stupid no matter how tempted she was. "I'm a fool, nothing more, nothing less, but at least I'm lucky--lucky enough to find someone who'd love me back, and lucky enough to be here right now talking to someone who gives more than two shits."

That was it. Her other hand came to rest on top of his as she suddenly shot forward the moment he finished that last word, her lips just touching his in the most tender of ways for a brief second. And then, she slapped him across the cheek, her lips pursed as she kept her other hand clasped in his own. "Spade, Sakuya, Nemo, whatever the hell your real name is, I don't care. You are you, no matter the shells you created. I couldn't count the amount of fucking masks I've had to conjure up over the goddamn years and cast aside when they were no longer useful. You are damn fucking right you have people who give two shits about you. More than two shits. Dammit Spade, I still fucking love you! And that ain't fucking changing in my lifetime."[/i] Her voices volume had raised a bit, but now she exhaled and sighed as she stared at him with the sort of frustration that you only experience with someone precious to you who was being just so... goddamn.... ARRRGHHH!!! Sighing, she grasped the bottle and took a swig before she stared at him, those chocolate depths sweet spikes that stabbed right into him. "But Shula is the right one for you. She is, I saw that the instant I met her in South despite being extremely drunk at the time." She had been. She somehow remembered this, [i]"I respect that, and I know that. And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I congratulate you two. You deserve some fucking happiness Spade. You've had enough of the sadness and the weight that life has placed upon your shoulders, let some of that joy come in." Like it only had for her in a few precious moments before it was gone. It was a firefly that she would never catch and could only admire from afar.

Then.... Alisa's smile returned. That soft smile that reflected a younger woman whom had seen less of the world that had died in her long ago, that she had choked off and killed in her pursuit of blood and money and freedom. Of a woman whom had held hopes for her future, dreamed dreams of worlds beyond the path she had chosen for herself. "You love her Spade. You love her with every god damn fiber of your being or I swear, I will come and beat the crap out of you myself." Soft words spoken without a hint of anger, only a hidden firmness that he knew well. If she found out he didn't love Shu enough somehow.... It would throw her into a rage. Because it meant that her giving up her love was somehow wasted (god dammit she didn't understand this fucking shit either). "But.... in any case.... Remember when I asked you if you needed a gun for hire when we first met in that fucking bar? That offer stands. No charge. She squeezed his hand, giving him one of her twisted smirks. "You ever need my help, you fucking call me? Ok? I don't care if it seems small, you fucking. call. me. I won't leave here until I get that promise from you."

[EXIT THREAD??]
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Alisa Donnikova
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Re: Fixing a Hole

Post by Spade Aeries on Sat Jan 12, 2013 12:26 am

You know those summer days when everyone gangs up on you at the public pool? Well, it's fifty times worse in Xing's crowds. Especially when you're the Emperor's son. Yeah... You can imagine what it's like to inhale a fresh breath of chlorinated water tainted with all sorts of child-germs. When you're under there, it's so bright--so muffled--so utterly lonely. Can't breathe. Don't breathe. It's water. If you take that breath, it'll hurt. Don't do it. Just give them a couple more seconds. They won't kill you. They're just fuckin' around. Okay it's been two seconds why aren't they-- Spade's eyes snapped open, his lips left in a mess where they were: slightly apart. He drew in a deep breath of air, lungs whistling with shock. Alisa... had just kissed him. Everything stopped. As if he were there: plunged underwater to that other world: serene, listless... A place he didn't belong. Slap He received it. Welcome back, Spade. Jesus Christ! couldn't she have been a little more gentle?! Why did this always happen to him!? He grit his teeth together in order to prevent an outburst, moving not even to touch the red hand print on his cheek."You are you." Instead, he smiled.

"You are damn fucking right you have people who give two shits about you. More than two shits. Dammit Spade, I still fucking love you!" ...Wh-... "And that ain't fucking changing in my lifetime." -at... All his life, he had been good at reading people. It was his job. He saw things. He saw everything. He didn't miss anything. Right now--this moment, he had made a grave mistake. While he poured his heart out all over the table like some soap opera that tore a man's secrets out and turned them into tear-evoking novels, Alisa was sitting there taking it. What, it was like he drove a freight train right over her, laughing manically. She...she still loved him. After all this--after all this time and everything he did. How? How. He wanted to know. Could someone give him the 411? Like seriously. He was entirely at a loss. Wasn't...that what he liked about Alisa though? He was off balance all the time. God. So that was why she wasn't cursing in his face like an A-typical chick would have. Fuck, was he wrong. But what good would apologizing some more do? She didn't care about things like that. Right now... something else entirely was happening.

He took a long-ass swing of that glorious bottle of Bailey's. "But Shula is the right one for you." He nearly choked, feeling such a strong burn that his eyes practically teared up in pain. He blinked it away and leaned forward, holding up a finger as if to inquire whether or not she had lost her mind or was drunk already. "You deserve some fucking happiness Spade." When this was all over, she was going to cry. Those brokenhearted cries where you scrape at things and only come up with dust. Nail-biting agony that could tear a beautiful person to shreds in the second the shields came down. No. He wasn't the only one who deserved happiness. Wait. He...he deserved happiness? Since when. When had things changed so much that he deserved anything at all? Cast out of his childhood, he'd meandered through crime scenes, committed his own, and walked over the dead for the sake of a nation's jingling metals that adumbrated nothing. All his life, he had never been told he deserved to be happy. Now, suddenly, he felt lighter, but clenched tighter. He was glued to the chair, stuck, but all the while grinning like a fool that promised he wouldn't ever cry again. "You've had enough of the sadness and the weight that life has placed upon your shoulders, let some of that joy come in."

"You too."

"You love her Spade. You love her with every god damn fiber of your being or I swear, I will come and beat the crap out of you myself."

"Wait, why are we betting on you beating the shit out of me? Hell if I should lose," he laughed.

"You ever need my help, you fucking call me? Ok? I don't care if it seems small, you fucking. call. me. I won't leave here until I get that promise from you."

"You know, I suck at making promises. How about instead, we hang; stay friends, all that jazz. I always need help; I'm fucking useless on my own there's no way... Hey, are you going to the festival? See ya there."


[EXIT THREAD]

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Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
avatar
Spade Aeries
LUCKY STRIKE

Posts : 311
Points : 3
Location : In a bar with a pretty lady

-Case File-
Level: 4
Rank: Head of Central
Writer: Aki

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Re: Fixing a Hole

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