Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 13, 2016 20:01:15 GMT -5
Now that he had her against him Damian didn't want to let her go. Years of training weren't required for him to notice the little movements with her. He could feel her heartbeat as his fingertips brushed the back of neck as they twined themselves in her long silky hair. Her lips against his neck drew his attention more than the words she was saying and he hummed something of a response.
But then the stupid stew was bubbling and she was pulling away from him. He almost didn't let her. It was a stupid thought, because her strength far surpassed his own, as she disentangled herself from him and rushed back over to the stove. His shoulders slumped in a disappointment and he leaned against the doorway as he watched her at the stove.
The space gave his head time to cool. It was a good thing, he guessed, because his brain seemed to stop working whenever she got too close. It was an annoying effect she had on him. He thought back to what she'd said as he watched her work. She only had him to rely on, but he knew himself.
"It's not good enough," the disconnect might have been enough to make her think he was talking about the soup as he moved quietly up behind her. "Mar'i, I know I'm all you have to rely on here, but don't fall in love with me," it was probably the most arrogant warning he'd ever given her. As if he'd come to the conclusion that any woman that was subjected to his presence for any length of time would fall for his charms. His expression softened, almost with regret, and his voice lowered as he admitted:
"You deserve so much better."
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 14, 2016 20:03:19 GMT -5
All plans to retreat and compose herself were dashed because Damian decided they weren't done, he had to follow her from the living-room to the kitchen. All the time he spoke to her back as she fiddled around pot and stove to save their dinner like she told him. She pulled the lid off and stirred the pot, and he had the gall to tell her it was not good enough.
Oh, well, his highness would have to excuse her, his royal purse could only afford free home-cooked meals and she warned him that they'd be bland as fuuuoooorget that, he wasn't talking about the food.
She could easily joke about his ridiculous taste expectations, but when he told her that she couldn't love him all the humour fell away. The spoon she was stirring with stilled and her tummy went taut with tension. The assumptions hadn't stopped. She waited in dreadful anticipation for him to tell her it was because nothing could happen between them; because he didn't have those sort of feelings for her. That he wanted to spare her the rejection, or worse, he'd be telling her she wasn't good enough for him.
He sounded closer, and quieter, behind her. He hadn't said any of that at all. She glanced over her shoulder just enough to see him in her periphery. He had come in closer than she thought, but she only turned her head forward as she considered her response. The spoon resumed stirring slowly.
"I deserve to be given realistic orders, that's for sure," she said lightly. "You can tell me to keep my affections to myself. If you don't want me to hold you, touch you, to tell you how much I adore you at times, I'll respect that," she said.
"You can tell me that you're not ready, or don't want anything to do with love because whatever it is that makes you feel unworthy of it is tearing you up inside, I will understand," she continued.
"But you can't tell me not to feel. If I fall in love with you, I can't stop that anymore than I can stop caring about you now. It's what I do about it that I can control."
The pot being in no more danger of boiling over, Mar'i set the wooden spoon down and turned around to face him. "So, what do you want? To establish where your boundaries are?" she asked, and then some mischief amidst the seriousness of 'feelings' she added, "Or to find out how few of them I have?"
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 15, 2016 20:10:58 GMT -5
She was right. For once. He wasn't being fair. Despite the fact he'd been receiving orders just as ridiculous for most of his entire life. Damian tensed, his muscles ready to fight even if it was stupid, but she didn't seem angry. She told him the things he could order her to do, reasonably, and left it up to him. Her last question had him smirking.
Damian inched forward, and reached a hand out towards her face as if he wanted to gently cup her cheek. He didn't let it get that far. It dropped between them, tracing the contour of her face from inches away before falling to his side. The longing in his eyes was palpable. The youngest Wayne loved to test boundaries, to push buttons, but it was more than that with her.
He wanted, desperately, to feel like he was wanted, needed, more than just another soldier on the field carrying out missions. Damian knew the worth of his skills, but he didn't feel he had any value as a person. Mar'i seemed to disagree with him. It was one of the many things that drew him to her. Her words had only made that more clear.
"Mar'i I-" he hesitated, his eyes moving to meet hers. "I don't know what I want. I've never felt this way about anyone before," the admission was difficult. The words seemed to drop in front of him like bullet casings. His gaze dropped to behind her. "But it's not fair to you. I know, asking you not to feel isn't fair either," he amended, holding up a hand to still any protests. "I don't want you to get hurt."
The young man drew back from her then, his shoulders tensing, until he backed up into the doorway. Backing away felt wrong. It had been beaten into him as a child that you didn't retreat, unless it was tactical, and this was anything but. He'd seen so many people he loved get hurt: Mother, Richard, Alfred, and even Clark. Damian had no idea if the Man of Steel was still alive or not, but he still counted it against himself
"Everyone I care about gets hurt, Mar'i," he repeated himself with a rare note of anxiety in his voice. "That can't happen to you, too."
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 18, 2016 21:12:21 GMT -5
Her heart fluttered as he drew his hand closer, anticipating his touch, but he fell short. One moment she thought they'd be taking a step closer, and the next was disappointment. It was hard not to let it show, but she endeavoured to be patient.
Their eyes met and he began to tell her how he felt. He didn't know what he wanted, but he admitted he felt something for her. She shouldn't have felt so good to know that it was something he hadn't felt for anyone else, but she did. It wasn't helping their case with him being so uncertain.
If she was honest, she had never been smitten with someone in the same way, with such uncertainty where to put her affections. There was attraction, flirtation, and the mutual back and forth that led to other things, but she wasn't sure where this was leading to--if it would lead to anything at all. His gaze told her he wanted it to, but that wasn't enough and they both knew it.
He retreated, and instinctively she drew toward him, taking one step closer. She didn't want him to go, but she of all people understood what he was saying. It was an anxiety they shared. So, she stopped, leaving a respectful distance between them.
She sighed softly, looking at him with an equally regretful expression. "I wish I could tell you a pretty little lie and say I won't get hurt, but we both know better," she said.
"It's something I think about a lot. You probably have your opinions of me already," she said with an awkward smile, recalling some of his insults, "but you don't know how crazy I can get when the thoughts in my head get too crowded with what I might stand to lose. You don't think I'll worry about you, too?"
She took one slow step forward. "I asked you if being with me was worth the risk. You decided that I was. I'm not afraid of getting hurt, so let me decide that you're worth the risk," she pleaded.
"I won't push you. We don't have to act on our feelings, but please don't leave me to try and spare me. One way or another I will get hurt, and I know it's a burden to you, but I'd rather not be alone."
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 19, 2016 21:13:55 GMT -5
Damian didn't back up any farther than the doorframe. He stayed there, his spine pressed against it in a way that reminded him solidly that this was real life, and rolled his shoulders back like a soldier at attention as Mar'i moved closer. Her rational argument helped to calm his irrational anxiety, despite all the dead eyes staring up at him from repressed memories, and he tried to force his pulse to return to a more normal rhythm.
Easier said than done when she kept moving closer.
He watched her carefully as she insisted that she didn't care how dangerous he was. She was right: he had made the decision that she was worth the risk even if being around her meant they'd end up arrested or executed. That threat wasn't very concrete. Not compared to seeing the bodies and feeling the waves of incomprehensible guilt that came with the roiling loss. But neither threat, real or imagined, was insurmountable. He'd taken on both before. He could handle the police and, like the rest, he could handle watching her die. Damian was a Wayne and they survived even when everyone around them had been gunned down.
It probably wasn't the conclusion that she'd wanted him to get out of her pep talk. Still, it had the same selfish result as he moved away from the doorway to close the gap between them. The man reached for her hands, slipping his calloused fingers between hers gently, as he regarded her very seriously. "I won't leave you," he promised, and leaned forward to seal it with a feather-light kiss. Damian was smirking as he drew back. "If you think I'm worth the risk," he amended.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 22, 2016 18:10:40 GMT -5
He was coming back, away from the door, and her eyes though unseen remained on him, until her head tilted up just slightly to keep her gaze locked on his. He stood before her, and she only saw his arms move from the periphery before she could feel his fingers slide between hers. It was an uncharacteristically sweet gesture, and she couldn't help but smile like a love-sick fool even as he looked at her in all his seriousness. He said he wasn't going to leave her, and she believed him. The kiss wasn't necessary to persuade her, but it sure was welcome.
"I do," she assured. Mar'i didn't understand that the risk with him went beyond the potential heartaches of rejected feelings. She didn't know of his sordid history or what he really did when he left their hovel at night. The internal risks seemed like any within a relationship, with the potential for heartache and betrayal. Had she known, especially about the mercenary work, it would be a different story.
It was just another example of how ignorance could be bliss. The only thing on her mind was whether or not she should go for another kiss. She decided yes, with a tippy-toe up. Her kiss was not feather-light, even though her weight on her toes certainly was as she slowly rose off the floor for easy floating. Three inches difference meant nothing when she could fly, and it was a good thing too because the boy was growing.
The kiss was over quickly. She still wasn't entirely sure how much Damian could handle. His early abrasiveness taught her a little too well not to touch him. He did still, however, have her hands. There was no need to run away. "Besides, who is going to pay my rent?" she teased, obviously kidding. "I'd have to find someone else to take care of me, which normally wouldn't be hard but..." She gave a vain toss of her hair. "I'm not sure they could appreciate my uniqueness the way you can."
Which was, not reporting her to the authorities for being a half-alien. Unfortunately, he rarely had something nice to say about the non-human side of her.
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Jul 28, 2016 19:41:20 GMT -5
Those words were magic, and the warmth that flooded Damian paralleled the softness of her lips. The second kiss was better than the first and Damian's hands slipped from hers to slide up along her forearms even as she floated besides him. Her joke wasn't terribly funny, but he couldn't help but smirk in response to her smile. "Good," he said curtly, a hand accidentally tangling in her long dark hair as he reached towards the back of her head. He pulled their faces closer together again, his words almost a whisper. "I don't share."
Then he was done with talking. His lips found hers again as he maneuvered her against the wall for better leverage. When all he could think about was the way she smelled and felt it was hard to remember that she could fly. Damian deepened the kiss as the fingers of his left hand found the edge of her blouse and slipped under it.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Jul 28, 2016 20:55:27 GMT -5
It was unexpected. She thought they would have to ease into intimacy, but there he was with a possessive hand, pulling her in, whispering delightfully dangerous things, and kissing her like he was entitled to it. Mar'i liked it quite a bit, and had no protest when he backed her into the wall.
At least, at first.
Mar'i was an eager participant to what had gone from innocents kissing to making out. It had escalated quickly, but not to her. To her, it felt a long time in the making. There had been something between them from the moment they met, as crazy as it would seem. All she wanted was more, and to be as close to him as possible.
Then, the wrinkles in the wallpaper as her back created friction against it reminded her that maybe it wasn't all that she wanted. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead where his hand was sneaking to, but once it was in her head it was hard to ignore. She remembered that the wallpaper was dusty and stained. She remembered the way it peeled with a sticky residue. The more she remembered about the lack of cleanliness in their apartment, the less enthusiastic her response became.
Until she had to pull back from the kiss, lips curled in regret and disgust which for a terrible moment could be interpreted to be directed toward the kissing. "Damian," she began slowly, pressing her hand to his forearm. "I'm sorry, but--"
As her head moves slightly, she felt a tug. Oh, gross. "...I think there's wallpaper in my hair."
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Aug 20, 2016 21:06:10 GMT -5
Something cold settled in Damian's gut when she pulled away with a disgusted expression. He felt like he'd been sucker punched, he couldn't breathe, as she said his name and pushed his forearm back. At first he wracked his brain trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. Had he misread a signal? But it turned out that the problem wasn't him it was the wall.
Damian's expression twisted to mirror her own and he pulled away quickly so that she could remove herself from the soiled wallpaper. "I'm sorry," he echoed her apology. He glowered at the wallpaper as though it had completely ruined the mood on purpose. It probably had. Sometimes the stuff seemed to have a life of it's own and spawn stains out of nowhere.
He retreated back towards the gutted microwave suddenly understanding how it felt.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Aug 24, 2016 19:53:39 GMT -5
He pulled away from her and the expression on his face made he own crumple in regret. She was flustered as she moved away from the wall and brushed her hair over her shoulder to inspect the damage. The thin strips of paper she found were quickly picked off with her long nails.
From her hair, her eyes darted uncertainly to his back. She felt awful leaving it like that. There was a great need to console him within her; to show him all her affection until his troubles melted away. Her face shifted to a determined expression. If awful surroundings were keeping them from being the intimate fools her heart wanted them to be, then they were going to have a change of scenery.
She caught up with him before he could get too far away--not that their apartment made that a possibility--and took his hand so that she may turn his attention back to her. She floated up ever so slightly to kiss him on the cheek.
"I'm not letting such a beautiful man walk away from me unsatisfied," she said as she pulled away to look at him adoringly. Her hand cupped the neglected cheek as her thumb brushed along his lower lip. She took a moment to admire him, gauge his reaction, before settling down to her natural height and let him go.
"Clean up," she gave a chipper order as she straightened. "We're taking our dinner to go."
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They walked together hand-in-hand to the large gate that said 'Van Cortland Park'. The paved path had fields stretching on either side, but with 66 acres of land Mar'i sought more secluded areas. The parks, compared to the city and its many boroughs, was relatively empty. There were still plenty of people on such a warm day in the late afternoon, but many families that had come with their children were on the way home.
"Aww," Mar'i cooed as a woman with a tiny dog on the leash passed them. Their little nub of a tail swished back and forth quickly. Already it was proving much better than staying at home. Alas, they didn't have an adorable pet to play with, and likely wouldn't. It would be irresponsible, with their lack of funds, and who knew what would happen in the future? So much of their situation was a mystery, but Mar'i didn't want to think about the possibility of just disappearing back to her universe without so much as a goodbye.
"Did you have any pets?" she asked Damian, whom she didn't actually know much about. Now that he had the privilege of not sharing her with anybody, she felt it appropriate to ask him to share more about himself.
"When I was little I wanted a goat for a pet," she admitted with a laugh. "Hunchback of Notre Dame was my favourite movie and Esmeralda had a goat, so of course, I had to have one too." Of course.
She glanced up at him with a wide, mirthful grin. "Can you image? A kid with a kid~"
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Nightwing
| Mercenary
| The Regime
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Post by Damian Wayne on Sept 14, 2016 21:53:26 GMT -5
Mar'i was brilliant. While it wasn't his style to inform her of that while they left the confines of their terrible flat, and the ruins of the microwave far behind them, every time he glanced at her there was clear appreciation in his eyes. As they walked, her fingers threaded through his in a way that seemed so natural, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd have ever found this back home. With the Regime everyone knew who he was. Being Clark and Diana's most trusted agent had it's perks...and it's downfalls.
It'd been years since he'd visited a park for the sheer joy of it. The youngest Wayne liked the idea of being surrounded by nature again. Even if it was the strictly manicured sort of nature with ball diamonds and dog parks. Seeing families heading home, happy and together, left him longing for something he'd never had and never would. But maybe the world wasn't so bleak anymore. Not with the shining beauty, cooing over a fluff ball as it trotted past on it's leash, besides him. His parents would never be together, and they'd never really love him, but maybe one day he could start a family of his own with a woman he loved more than anything.
He was getting ahead of himself.
Dreamy blue eyes refocused on Mar'i as she asked him a question. The man nodded, not necessarily one for words, but she was quick to recant a story of her own childhood. He vaguely remembered the movie as something Stephanie had convinced him to watch one night when she was babysitting him with Tim. They'd spent the entire movie being disgusting, something Tim did naturally by simply existing, and it had kind of ruined it for him. The idea of Mar'i with a goat, though, was precious.
Damian mirrored her grin, but he wasn't entirely sure why it was so funny. A kid could totally have a pet goat. "Why not?" he asked her, almost rhetorically. "I had a pet cow as a child: Bat-Cow. Dad and I saved her from Pyg," he paused, gauging her reaction, "she didn't actually fight crime with us. Although, I did give her a cape once." The smirk crawling across his face at the memory was genuine. He'd been such a stupid little kid.
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Nightstar
| Landscaper / Window Washer
| DC
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Post by Mar'i Grayson on Sept 15, 2016 19:30:04 GMT -5
The same fond sentiment he conveyed with his eyes was returned in the smiles she'd share with him. For necessity,her alien eyes were hidden by sunglasses but in every other way it was obvious to all but the most oblivious that she was smitten with him.
She hadn't yet had a relationship so serious that she worried about whether she'd be lucky enough to keep it for the long run. Her own parents had their difficulties, and they were one the best examples of love she ever had. She was too happy knowing that Damian shared her affections to spoil the mood with fatalistic thoughts.
Her inquiries into the mysterious past of Bruce Wayne's son were rewarded in the best way.
"Really?" she asked during the pause, her brows shooting high and her grin wide. Aside from not knowing who Pyg was (a cow had to be saved from a pig?), every part of what he said was absolutely adorable, and when he admitted to putting a cape on 'Batcow' her hand went to her heart from the preciousness of it all.
"Batcow," she repeated, melting internally. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face as she flashed her pearly-white teeth every time she turned her head up to him.
"Now I wish we came from the same universe more than ever. I want a Batcow," she whined, and laughed, about it. Them, with a dramatic flair of her hand, picnic supplies dangling, she declared, "Let's move to the country and start a farm!"
It wasn't a serious proposition, but it made for a wonderful thought experiment. Damian was so sparing in words when they weren't insults, but Mar'i could talk enough for the both of them.
"We'll have a small herd of cows, and goats, and sheep, and sheepdogs to watch over them," she listed off happily as she gently swayed their joined hands. "And chicken so we can enjoy eggs from our happy hens. And a lovely greenhouse for fresh vegetables all year round."
She affectionately bumped his side, nuzzling into his shoulder for a moment before continuing.
As she glanced to the side, she pulled him gently toward a different direction away from manicured nature toward the natural wood that began to line their path. A small groove in the grass denoted a frequently walked trail, that likely led to a hiking one.
"We'll have a farmhouse tucked against the woods, no neighbours for miles," she continued with her dream scenario as they slipped under the cover of trees away from potentially prying eyes. "A rustic style home, with a large kitchen for cooking, a cozy fireplace in the living room..."
She slowed down to a stop, turning to face him. Her head tilted up, angling for a kiss as her voice became quieter, "...and a comfy bed big enough for two~"
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