kleptomaniask

[kleptomaniask]

She reaches to shut off the lights, and eventually eases back down, falling asleep seemingly as soon as Bo got her fingers in her hair. Her eyes flutter shut, and her breathing steadies out as she curls up next to her, soft and warm. She repeats what she'd said earlier, unintelligible.

"...I'm so lucky."

She's got to have 5 blankets pulled over herself. Maybe her tendency to hide comes from something more - maybe it's just cold.

The night is dark and quiet, and the dry air seeps into the small, hidden condo - everything is red and black all the same, like light seeping through closed eyes. That painting - the amaryllis - stains like an afterimage. Kat snuggles closer into Bo - warm and sure, muttering quietly in her sleep, her face hidden in her side.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

"...What are you- oh!"

Kat suddenly realizes how she's being carried, and blushes, slightly. She can't stop laughing, her arms thrown around Hunter, tight as though she's afraid to be dropped - or simply startled. "...How lucky I am," she manages, though she's laughing the entire time. "...How lucky I am to have you."

The room is full of her - paintings all over the walls, clothing laid out, hung up for later, a vanity with a seemingly endless bounty of jewels spilling out of the drawers, her cosmetics scattered across it. Her closet was full to the brim, a mirror standing out at the very back of it. The walls in here were darker, pomegranate red, and the light came from an almost comedically decadent chandelier, scattering across the room, making shapes on the wall in infinitely bright colors. Her bed is full of various blankets, fur and velvet and plush. The pillows that surround her head are all sorts, some beaded, some embroidered, all of them kitschy.

She hasn't stopped laughing when Bo throws her onto the bed, and she reaches up the moment she's close again to kiss her all over her face, on the lids of her eyes, on her forehead, though she's considerably slowed down - drowsy, close and intimate. She's never been so close to somebody. She smiles into her. She can barely keep her eyes open, and every time she tries, that thing looks at her from the corner. She doesn't take her eyes off of Bo.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

No hideaway in the world could make her feel safer than she did in her arms. She smiled into her, unable to keep herself from nuzzling into her, her hands coming up to hold the other's face, kissing her right back, just as intensely, though she's held back by her exhaustion. It feels right - she feels better than she has in a long, long time. She kisses the other's jaw, and her cheek, over and over again. Everything was good. The blue light in the room over seemed to dim - to extinguish itself into a dusty black.

She pulls from her after seemingly an eternity, only to yawn and lay her head on the other's chest, listening to her heartbeat pounding in her ear, listening to her breathing, her hand on her shoulder, barely keeping her eyes open.

"...I almost don't want to get up to go to bed," she sighs, and she's dazed, her eyes heavy and her voice slightly slurred. "...I just want to stay here."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She stares back - up into her pitch eyes, her head tilted to the side. She's sure there's no other place she'd possibly like to be right now, no one else she wants to be. She's everything to her, and the seconds seem to be both too long and too short. Everything is warm - dim and still and safe. She smiles brightly, white teeth behind stained, pink lips. The coldness stings at the back of her hand. Kat's red nail polish is chipping, her eyes are beginning to lose their brightness against the dark, the candlelight making them glassy.

She closes her eyes and pulls closer to Hunter, once again sitting close to her, sleep in her eyes and the way she leans in further, barely keeping herself up. She rolls her shoulders and stretches. She tries to blink the sleep out of her eyes, rubbing one of them.

Her hand falls to Hunter's shoulder as she feels her hand touch her face, her eyes remaining on the other despite their heaviness. She almost laughs at her request - isn't it obvious? She leans close enough, again, that Hunter can feel it when she speaks. She has a tone of mischief in her voice, the same sort of excitement she had earlier in the night.

"..You can kiss me as many times as you like. I'd.. like it."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She looks up at her, surprised at how nervous she suddenly is, at first unable to respond at all, awestruck and surprised and utterly enamored - and then she frowns, slightly, when she realizes how upset Hunter is. She's left with an odd sort of absence when she turns away, the silence of the room suddenly more oppressive than freeing. She's all flushed, and she moves so that she's still facing her, again kneeling in front of her.

"No, no, Don't be - please don't be sorry. It was.. that was.. you have nothing to apologize for, that was... it was so wonderful. You haven't done anything wrong."

She whispered. Her voice was still soft and tender, and she had the urge to kiss her all over, hold her so closely that it'd be hard to tell the two apart, though she only moved to look into the other's eyes. She reaches out, and touches her face, stroking her cheek with her thumb. Her voice is almost urgent, but remains soft and warm, completely and utterly enamored by her still.

"...Bo, please don't cry. You haven't done anything wrong. It was perfect. You're perfect."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She smiles, laughing softly as she remembers it, glad she's there - glad that neither of them are alone. She's everything to her - There's nothing in the world, in that moment, but the two of them. Kat's hair is soft - her eyes are low-lidded, and she's unable to look away.

She's glad to be there - glad that she pushed through, glad that she stayed. She notices what she's about to do before she does it - the way she blushes, the way she pulls her closer, presses into her - but she's too surprised to do anything but stay exactly where she is -

Until, of course, she kisses her.

Everything stops, and then she pulls her in closer. Her thoughts go quiet and she can only focus on the taste of her, the pressure of her lips on Kat's - everything feels warm and electric. Kat's own lips are soft, the taste of cherry and the warm taste of lipstick residue sticking out. She almost feels like crying. Her heart begins to beat, a sudden, incessant pounding. The feelings, though, are mutual, and she finds it almost impossible to even think of pulling away.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She smiles back at her, her poppy-red eyes still, gazing into the other's with a soft, serene sort of tiredness. She sinks into the touch on her back, and, in response, puts her arms around the other's waist, close and gentle. The slice of blue from the doorway of her bedroom seems to glow - seems to mock her - seems to say even this will break, if I give it enough pressure. She closes her eyes and ignores it, looking back up at Bo. She's so beautiful - so extraordinary. She draws circles on her back. Her voice is.. casual, familiar, warm. Hunter seems to be the last person who would leave her for anything.

She realizes that she doesn't ever want this to end. She figures until morning is the best she can ask for - for now.

"...You can sleep in my room, if you want. I haven't made the bed, though."

She has a tension at the center of her chest that finally releases, something that's been eating her from the inside for a seemingly endless amount of time, and it finally ends. She's free of it - the thought that every good thing would leave her, the thought that she was going to ruin everything she touched, the thought that she was doomed. What's left isn't quite emptiness, but a space - she feels like she can breathe again, and yet, she feels breathless at the same time. She smiles up at Hunter. and leans into her, touching her forehead against her own.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

"It's the nature of my job that I have to so often."

She smiles. The paintings on the wall are bright, mostly red - paintings of high-class women, paintings of figures that are hard to define, paintings of mythology. In her room, before she takes off her turtleneck, she stares at the painting of flowers in a vase on the wall, her eyes glassy. She makes herself a note to turn it over or put it in her gallery soon - it's hurting her eyes. She speaks from the other room.

"Knowing you, if I'd told you about it, you would've found it in record time."

In the other room, she's slipping into an outfit very few have seen her in - a black top and patterned, oversized pants, her eyes tired, dulled over from a long day's work, tense from the fighting, tense from being curled up in the vent for so long. She goes into the kitchen and looks through her drawers - full of everything, barely organized, and pulls out a tin of her favorite candies, opening the wrapper of one with her teeth, putting the tin on the table beside the couch.

"Have a few, if you like."

She tries her best to ease up and sit down beside her, calming as she finds herself beside Hunter, in her own space. "I didn't even find it myself, until I had the pleasure of stealing a few blueprints of the place and saw a.. discrepancy. Nobody but me knows." There was a muffled excitement in her voice. She loved to dissapear, to sink into the darkness completely - no one could harm her here. no one could harm them, now. She looks into Hunter's eyes, softly - the slightest blush at her cheeks. "..Nobody but you, too."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She takes her hand, gently, and leads her to the broken vent, briefly letting go to jump up and manuever herself into the vent, backwards. She reaches out to Hunter, sticking out halfway, bent uncomfortably close to falling on her face. She pulls her up.

"...It's going to be a little tight," she sighs. "..But I wasn't expecting to bring anyone else up here. I promise it's a short trip." She twists herself back to face the rest of the ventilation system - gracefully enough to prevent herself from kicking Bo in the face. She leads her across the base, her path almost nonsensical, before finally finding what she needs - an open vent into an empty stairwell, close to the ground. If Hunter were keeping track, they'd be just north of the common room - but there were no doors, and no windows into the place. The door behind them had been walled-over before the room it hid was even in use. She lead Hunter up the stairs, and into a hallway with seemingly no exit or entry.

She pushed on the wall until she hit it - a decoy. The drywall opened inwards, and she pulled Hunter in, smiling.

She closed the door, and then flicked on a small tiffany lamp off the side of a low couch. it was surprisingly nice, for what Kat had in her assigned barracks. It was an actual apartment. She'd painted it a very dark red, and all sorts of paintings covered the walls. It was dim and low, full of things - little odds and ends, trinkets, things she shouldn't have - it was decadent. Kat sighed, and stretched, her shoulders popping. She was tired, but almost content.

"...Make yourself at home," she sighed, then went off into her bedroom to change.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She's up and beside her before she even realizes what she's doing, coming up to lean into her when she realizes just how bad it was. At the touch of her hand, Kat's other arm covers her shoulders, still a little tense. She hates thinking of what could've hurt her so bad. She hates that someone gave her those memories.

"...I'm sorry for bringing it up."

She sighs quietly. She's warm, with the smell of faded cherry perfume coming off her neck. The feeling of her hand on her arm and the weight of her shoulders lulls her, a little.

She thinks of how to soothe her further - she's never held anybody else this way before, nor has she comforted them so closely. She's terrified of making a mistake, burning it all down. She leans in closer to Hunter. The idea comes into her head, and before she can worry about anything, she's set on it. She looks into Hunter's eyes, and breathes in.

"...Call it a shot in the dark, but you wouldn't want a change of scenery for a little while, would you?"

She leans into hunter's ear until hunter can feel her breath. She's keeping it secret for a reason - and her tone is almost excited, conspiratorial.

"Come with me. Nobody will be able to find us there, I've made sure of it. We'll be totally alone. No sound gets in, either. I'll be there. You'll sleep alright. I promise."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She was nervous, after that, almost sheepish - she was unsure of herself, almost tempted to go anyways - to slip out, in her usual way. It was unlike her to hang on in this way. She was too unsure to come up to lay beside her yet - unsure if she had somehow upset the other, so she remained there, sitting with her arms on the bed, staring at Hunter and feeling a little bit silly. She approached the next topic with caution, her thoughts on the vent she had come out of.

Her voice was quiet and strange, and she didn't respond for a long time - she was thinking of lots of things,

"...Can I ask what it was?"

Her voice comes out quieter than she'd like as she sits on her floor, poppy eyes staring at the wall. She blushes, slightly, now more awake, turning to look at Hunter, into her eyes. She looks away, still nervous.

"...the nightmare, I mean."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

Kat remains resolute, kneeled there beside her, still and quiet for just a moment as she listens to Hunter. She doesn't believe her, and if she left now, she wouldn't be able to sleep - knowing she was suffering would keep her up all night. She shakes her head, still staring straight at her.

"...You're lying. I heard the way you screamed."

She speaks quietly - just above a whisper, not quite argumentative. She's never been so intent on staying before, but she remains resolute, solid. She lets go of her hand, but stays close. She leans in to her.

"...You're hurt. You're suffering. That's the only thing that matters to me. That's not.. I don't want you to keep suffering." She looks at her - she's without most of her getup, and there are traces of her makeup, mostly wiped off. She's sick of running from her - from the one person she feels safe with.

"...You went across the world for me. Let me stay for you."

She clasps one of Bo's hands in hers, tighter than she usually does, on her knees.

"...Please."

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

The burglar is sleeping above, in a twisted corner of the ventilation, with her gun still in her hand. She wakes up from a dreamless, pitch sleep, jolting up and banging her head. She recognizes the voice, and she's not all that far away from its source. She moves as quickly as she can, her mind catastrophizing as to what was going on - it could have been her, she thinks, and feels a little bit dizzy.

She's quicker and quieter than ever when she tamps down on the floor of Bo's room, making sure nobody was ruining the sanctum of the small, lightless room. She would've rather died than let Hunter get hurt because of her, she realized, but her anger finds no target, and it dies in her throat. A nightmare, she realizes, and eases only slightly.

"Bo?"

She looks at hunter, her eyes bright in the darkness, and she's at her side in less than a moment, concern clear on her face, kneeling at the side of her bed. She doesn't like watching her rip herself apart, but her eyes never leave the other - not for a moment. She's not sure what to say, or do - she doesn't want to risk hurting her, but she can't watch her any more. She reaches out and ghosts over her face, her neck, before her hand comes to touch the other's, taking it gently, keeping her from scratching at herself any more. She comes to sit on the bed, beside her. She doesn't like how exhausted her eyes look, how unfocused and woozy they are, the darkness underneath them.

"You're exhausted,"

Her voice has no pity, no hint of anything - just a statement, matter-of-fact and plain. She leans in closer to Hunter, her eyes still unadjusted. She realizes something, and a sharp pang of guilt and regret hit her all at once, making her want to pull her close and never let her go.

"...and you've been dealing with this for too long. Alone."

There's a certain upset in her voice, thinking about the other without sleep, without solace. She hates it.

it's the dead of night. the base is quiet. even the desert outside is asleep, aside from a few noctournal critters. all rest but one. one figure tosses and turns, murmuring and muttering unintelligible things under her breath. blanket tangled between her legs, half shucked off as she's sweating far too much for it, yet she shivers exposed to the chilled air of the cellar.

she shoots up screaming. a guttural, inhuman sound that rips violently from her throat. the cold concrete walls merely absorb the noise. the twisted metal of the broken open vent that hangs above is the only thing that rattles in sympathy. she hyperventilates as her eyes dart around in the darkness, woozy from vertigo, vaguely taking in the dark surroundings. no padded walls. no fluorescent lights. no white. the panic is replaced with a vapid emptiness that sucks out what little is left of her rotted insides. she brings her knees to her chest. her hands come up to entwine and tug at the tangled, dark mop on her head in an attempt to stop the unbearable noise of her own heart pounding in her ears, though the sting of ripping out her hair does a shoddy job of distracting her. it burns behind her eyes. maggots squirm in her flesh, chewing on muscle greedily, feeding on grey matter. rising bilse stings her throat. she manages to keep it down. a metallic taste coats her tongue. she's failed to realise she's once again bitten through her lip.

her eyes fixate directly in front of her at a far wall. the weight of her lack of rest bounds down on her body like a lead blanket, heavy, heavy. her breathing is ragged and slightly choked, feeling as if her lungs are filled with fluid as she brings her nails to her neck in a desperate bid to soothe herself. it doesn't work. it hasn't worked in a long time. still, she scratches like there are worms writhing beneath her skin. she can't bring herself to stop, even as scabs rip and blood trickles and she loses all her minuscule progress. it's too hard to breathe.

this was far from the first time, and wouldn't be the last. it never got any easier.

[kleptomaniask]

She looks afraid, at first - a bright, smothering terror that overtakes her senses, when she feels her tense. She grits her teeth. As soon as she pulls her against herself, she squeezes her just as tight, her heart beating out of her chest, her eyes bright and wide, almost glowing. She moves, slightly, but is unsure. as long as she's here, then she can't hurt her. She squeezes her eyes shut.

a faint smell has suddenly carried into kat's room. metallic and musky, familar, but milder. hands plant on her shoulders from behind. they're familar too, thin, rough, warm as freezerburn. cleaner than usual.

"boo." hunter leans forward and rasps in her ear. she giggles, grinning at her playfully. her visit is random, and at an odd time, she usually liked to be alone for a while right after battle. she doesn't seem to have anything for her either. strange.

Kat has been... preoccupied. Her eyes have been low, her hands have been shaky - and she's been acting odd throughout the last few fights. She tenses first, but relaxes when she remembers who it is. She turns, quickly, to face her, and smiles, but Hunter can tell that she's more tired than usual.

"It's you." She sighs, relieved. "I'm really glad to see you. I.. you were really great out there," she blushes. She's steps a little closer to Hunter, and Hunter can hear her heart beating, fast, but slowing down as she stares at her. "I'm.. um.. I'm sorry I didn't do more today," she mutters quietly.

[kleptomaniask]

[kleptomaniask]

She notices the way she looks at her lips, the way she feels against her - she tucks it away, in the back of her mind.

She is even unafraid when Hunter bares her anger, strangely enough. She doesn't flinch, she doesn't look away - she calms. Kat knows that she, herself, is fickle and unreliable. Hunter, though, doesn't stop at anything. The Burglar often reminds herself of how lucky she is that they're on the same team - Hunter would've caught her a thousand times by now. She's glad that her sister is identical.

Kat presses closer, as if to hide in Hunter's arms. Her hand on her neck, her thumb pushing up her face - it makes her dizzy, and her eyes are, once again, focused on Hunter's. Her voice comes out soft.

"I believe you."

She kisses her, once, on the side of the mouth. It's short, almost nothing - a peck. It's grateful - and, in an odd way, devoted.

a faint smell has suddenly carried into kat's room. metallic and musky, familar, but milder. hands plant on her shoulders from behind. they're familar too, thin, rough, warm as freezerburn. cleaner than usual.

"boo." hunter leans forward and rasps in her ear. she giggles, grinning at her playfully. her visit is random, and at an odd time, she usually liked to be alone for a while right after battle. she doesn't seem to have anything for her either. strange.

Kat has been... preoccupied. Her eyes have been low, her hands have been shaky - and she's been acting odd throughout the last few fights. She tenses first, but relaxes when she remembers who it is. She turns, quickly, to face her, and smiles, but Hunter can tell that she's more tired than usual.

"It's you." She sighs, relieved. "I'm really glad to see you. I.. you were really great out there," she blushes. She's steps a little closer to Hunter, and Hunter can hear her heart beating, fast, but slowing down as she stares at her. "I'm.. um.. I'm sorry I didn't do more today," she mutters quietly.

[kleptomaniask]

She tilts her forehead so that it's touching Hunter's, the bridge of Hunter's nose meeting hers. "...It's strange," she sighs, and her voice is a little broken. She's still afraid to kiss her and ruin it - still half-convinced that it's something she can ruin.

"You're the only person I'm not afraid of right now." She murmers beneath her breath, her eyes unwavering, her face flush.

She likes this - feeling her so close - so utterly inescapable. She's never felt her so warmly before. She wants it to last forever, so that no creeping thing can harm her after it inevitably ends. She pales at the thought, and looks into Hunter's eyes. Her voice is broken up, desolate -

"...She's going to find some way to kill me." She mutters, her eyes distant. "Some way to really kill me."

a faint smell has suddenly carried into kat's room. metallic and musky, familar, but milder. hands plant on her shoulders from behind. they're familar too, thin, rough, warm as freezerburn. cleaner than usual.

"boo." hunter leans forward and rasps in her ear. she giggles, grinning at her playfully. her visit is random, and at an odd time, she usually liked to be alone for a while right after battle. she doesn't seem to have anything for her either. strange.

Kat has been... preoccupied. Her eyes have been low, her hands have been shaky - and she's been acting odd throughout the last few fights. She tenses first, but relaxes when she remembers who it is. She turns, quickly, to face her, and smiles, but Hunter can tell that she's more tired than usual.

"It's you." She sighs, relieved. "I'm really glad to see you. I.. you were really great out there," she blushes. She's steps a little closer to Hunter, and Hunter can hear her heart beating, fast, but slowing down as she stares at her. "I'm.. um.. I'm sorry I didn't do more today," she mutters quietly.