oftheunbroken

[oftheunbroken]

Her thumb smooths across his cheek, the violet of her eyes illuminated by the tears that fall. "You don't remember who you were. Who I am. Our son." A soft breath, "But what I remember is a world without you in it. And even the pain of knowing you might never remember is nothing compared to the agony I felt while I believed you to be gone from this world." Tyche offers him a tentative smile. "So whatever this is. Whatever the outcome-- things are already better than they were before."

We? He had been so used to being alone these past few months that the thought of 'we' scared him. Especially when it involved a practical stranger to him - though his body told him else, his body - or even heart - wanting to lean into her touch and be there for her. "How? I only remember being 23, I don't... The person you know is not me"

[oftheunbroken]

The feeling of such a reptilian tongue against her cheek should have made her skin crawl with disgust. Instead, coupled with the way his eyes looked at her, as though he could devour whole, she shivered with adrenaline fueled anticipation. At the last second she turned her face so that the edge of that long tongue swept across her bottom lip. She steps forward now, closing the gap between them to mere centimeters, “I’m finding myself feeling agreeable.” Her eyes dripped with desire, gaze hooded as she tilted her head back to stare up into eyes that would appear soulless were it not for the emotions of the man beneath. Tyche’s hand trails along his jaw. “How do you feel about going back to your place?”

"Mmm, tempting." The fingertips upon the monster's chest move up, until one of those fingers traces along the edge of a tooth that was revealed with his grin. She runs it along the tip, so sharp that the slightest of touches cuts into her skin. "How about this," Tyche's voice trails as the fingertip is brought to her own mouth, lips sucking the drop of crimson away as violet hues smolder. "You tell me what you want now... and I'll see if I feel like giving in."

[oftheunbroken]

"If you're so eager to take matters into your own hands, why the fuck am I stuck here every night?" Vitriol drips from her voice as her body is forced to adjust to his weight leaning against her. It is not that he's heavy, in fact he's far lighter than even she would have predicted, but the simple fact that he is touching her that makes her want to scream. She is not gentle as she drags him into the office and the way she drops his weight into the chair nearest the door is sure to be jarring. An amused smirk curls up her lips when she notices what appears to be a grimace of pain. Good.

"Maybe next time you'll make sure that the men take care of something as simple as a bar brawl. That's clearly all they're capable of." The medkit is resting exactly where he says and she grits her teeth in annoyance as she settles on her knees in front of him. "Not a fucking word, Van Meter." It isn't her first choice of position but it will put her into the easiest spot to clean and dress the wound. The only thing stopping her from completing the task is the ridiculously tacky leather jacket and a torn white shirt. Already too familiar with the way his mind worked, Tyche refused to touch it. "Take off your shirt or bleed to death. Your choice."

starter for @oftheunbroken

"Goddamn lying-" The toe of Seth's boot drives hard into the man's stomach, the air forced out of him with a wheeze, "cheap-" a bone crunch as he catches a rib and breaks it, "piece of shit." He takes a breath and staggers back a half-step, running the back of his hand across his mouth. "Not so nice when you're the one getting fucked over, huh? Throw his ass out on the curb, fellas."

The guy splayed out on the concrete doesn't seem like he's going anywhere but he's collared just as roughly by one of the burly bouncers, half-walked, half-dragged towards the street. Now that there aren't any appearances to keep up, Seth grips Tyche's shoulder for support with one hand and presses the other against the stab wound in his side, lets his shoulders sag with the pain of it. "Ty, be a doll and help me inside, huh? Got a medkit up in my office."

[oftheunbroken]

To say that she felt stupid in the dark gown draped across her frame would be an extreme understatement. She had only worn at the insistence of the woman she was supposed to meet for a date. Unfortunately the arranged time for the meeting had been over an hour ago and it was evident that her companion for the evening would be a no show. It was on her way out of the establishment that a voice caught her attention. "I'm sorry-," Tyche cleared her throat in effort to swallow past the embarrassment she currently felt about being dressed as she was, "But I'm not the woman you're waiting for." Yet there was something familiar in the eyes of the man across from her. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

for tyche ronen @oftheunbroken—

Maybe he'd read the time wrong, or the date? They said they'd be here, but after a while of waiting, he worries that he might have done something wrong; the place was a little deserted, and no one seemed to come coming up to him. And then, he blinks, a breath of relief as someone approaches the table. "I—hey!" Derek stands up, and bangs his knee against the table and scoots backward, as if to greet them. "I'm glad to see you! I—the name's Derek. Sorry about being too early."

[oftheunbroken]

Tyche could feel his defeat in the way he whispered the words to her, the echo of his voice drifting against her like a fog. "I... It's okay." She tries to force a smile but the end result is more of a grimace. Slowly her arms wrap around him, her chin fitting perfectly into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. She wants to continue to beg him to remember, to dig deeper. But the pain he is in is evident in every line of his face and that was what was truly unbearable. "It'll be okay. We can figure this out."

He knew he needed to but it felt like his head was going to explode if he thought any longer and he just needed it to stop. He believed her - she knew too much about him for it to be a mere coincidence - but he also knew that whatever person he was when they met was gone. "I'm sorry, I don't know you," he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"

[oftheunbroken]

"You're not doing too terribly. I've definitely taught far worse." Tyche enjoys the time with Soren and how he lets her fight with the different weapons collected over the years. "Besides, if teaching you means I get access to cool shit like this," she waves the chakram in the air, "I'm glad you're not that quick of a study. My weapons access would end otherwise." She offers him a drink of water from the bottle she'd brought with her, "I would be interested to spar with dragon you as well. I think it'd be a good test for me."

in a world of silence, you would think that would offer less distractions. not so, with him—it's easy to get lost in the heat of the moment, the unfamiliarity of fighting this way, the glare of the sun from way up high. sighing audibly as he feels her weapon against his side, he lets his weapons slide from his hands and puts them up in defeat. seventh time is not the charm, apparently. letting his wrist device flick on, the voice relays, "hard to remember i'm not covered in scales. i'm used to having a tail to swipe, too." the doesn't excuse him, though. he should be more aware regardless. "hard to keep up with you sometimes, you're quick." offering a sheepish smile, he continues, "and i'm beat."

[oftheunbroken]

"Countless people in this city have their own agenda, their own idea of they think is best. You cannot all be right. So tell me," Violet eyes search for signs of manipulation, of a reason to mistrust, "Why I should listen to you."

used to being sized up, santiago doesn't let the behavior bother him. if anything, he welcomes it. they both do. "what's good for the world is also good for me. it's time we struck back against the people keeping us down."

[oftheunbroken]

"Mmm, tempting." The fingertips upon the monster's chest move up, until one of those fingers traces along the edge of a tooth that was revealed with his grin. She runs it along the tip, so sharp that the slightest of touches cuts into her skin. "How about this," Tyche's voice trails as the fingertip is brought to her own mouth, lips sucking the drop of crimson away as violet hues smolder. "You tell me what you want now... and I'll see if I feel like giving in."

ezra hums, enjoying her boldness—not a lot of people are keen to touch him. just another thing to like about her. "alright, how's this? you win, you get anything you want. if i win, i get anything i want. fair's fair." he grins, adding, "only thing that scares me is spending another night without your company, doll."

[oftheunbroken]

- closed starter for @estsolcity for mirai

The bed was bigger than she had expected. Huge compared to the simple full mattress in her own home. Items related to having two toddlers were scattered about the room, giving it a sense of warmth and familiarity. Tyche gave a soft smirk, "My what a big bed you have," before crossing the room to stand behind the woman she had picked up from the bar. Desire hung heady in the air as fingertips ghosted the nape of the woman's neck, pushing the curtain of dark hair aside so that her lips could tease at the skin. "All the better to eat you in, my dear."

[oftheunbroken]

"If you're so confident," Tyche's fingers trail down the monster's chest, "Why don't you pick?" The smirk she gives is almost sultry, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Unless of course you're scared."

"there's nothing about you that makes me deflate, doll," he purrs, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. "but why don't we up those stakes a little, eh? what are you gonna bet that i'm not?"

[oftheunbroken]

Tyche had grown restless. It seemed to take days to move from one search site to the next, efficiency drowned out by the sheer size of the group she had initially been traveling with. Three days of moving at the pace of a glacial snail had nearly done her head in and so she had departed. She knew what they were looking for and more than that, she knew how to keep herself alive.

The wastelands had been her home once. Her clan trekking through its depths from civilization to civilization, bartering for the goods they had found and offering their services as mercenaries. That lifestyle had taught her to watch her back. Shown her how to listen for the shifting of sand that differed from the way the wind moved it. Head bent over a pile of promising scrap, Tyche nearly missed it. The whisper of sand as it moved beneath the crouch of something alive. Her dermal armor extended across her skin, cocooning her in a net of safety. It had often proved to be the difference between life and death. That, and her reflexes, the very ones that shot into action as the beast charged. Within seconds the sword behind her back had been drawn, slicing cleanly through the corded muscle of the creature's neck as she swung into a turn. Its body fell to the ground with a dull thunk, black blood glooping into the sand.

With her attention no longer on the scrap pile or the threat to herself, she now noticed the large group gathered along the horizon. "Thanks for the heads up!" Her voice called sarcastically across the sands, middle finger indicating just how she felt about the ordeal.

@oftheunbroken || min & tyche - into the thick of it

The wastelands stretched endlessly, sun-bleached and broken, a graveyard of the old world. Min moved with quiet efficiency, keeping pace with the small entourage she was traveling with—mercenaries, traders, and hired guns, all watching each other just as much as they watched for threats. Trust was a rare commodity out here, and she had no interest in wasting hers. It was the movement that caught her eye first—a lone figure rummaging through the wreckage of a half-collapsed building, methodical but unaware. Scavenger. Min had seen plenty before, some desperate, some reckless, and a few just lucky enough to still be breathing. But what mattered more was the other movement she spotted just beyond the ruins. Low to the ground, shifting through the rubble with unnatural patience, a creature of twisted muscle and too many teeth. It was watching. Stalking. Min’s hand went to her belt, fingers brushing the hilt of her knife. Her gaze flicked to the scavenger again—closer now, the shape of them more defined. She exhaled through her nose, sharp and silent. “Hold,” she murmured to the group beside her, already stepping forward, eyes locked on the hunter in the shadows. "Someone's about to have a real bad day."

[oftheunbroken]

Involuntarily Tyche finds herself leaning into the soft touch of his hand upon her cheek. All too soon it is pulled back and the ache in her chest seems to grow even larger. There is no end in sight to the cries that wrack her frame. "I need you. Please." Her forehead lifts to press against his, a gesture that once used to bring her comfort. "You have to try. Try to remember."

What ever expectations she had of him right now were from the Ryan she probably knew and loved, and he knew that he'd never amount to whoever that Ryan was. Right now he was scared, scared and in pain but he managed to look up at her, gently cupping her face without thinking. "Don't cry, please," he whispered, hand quickly falling to his side as he realized what he did. "I-I'm sorry, I don't... I don't know why I did that but I don't remember"

[oftheunbroken]

"It is you." Once more her hands reach for his face, fingertips running along the well known curve of his jaw. "You have to remember." But she can see it in his eyes, amidst the pain clouding those dark brown hues is something unfamiliar. Whatever had happened to him before they had met, what had shaped him into the man she fell in love with, he did not remember. Yet knowing he had lost so much more than just his memory of her, of their life, did little to quell the emotions that rioted within. Sobs are coming freely now and the expression across her face is one of unimaginable grief as the sound of her words continues to rise in panicked desperation "You have to remember. I buried our son. You have to remember!"

How did she know this? How did this feel so familiar yet so foreign at the same time? Why did every ounce of his body want to not only trust her but push her away? Nothing made sense to him except the pain, the pain was the one thing that talked loudest. "I don't remember you, I'm so sorry but I don't," he said as he closed his eyes tightly, tears building in them. "Whoever your husband was wasn't me... I'm sorry"

[oftheunbroken]

Tears fall freely now as she kneels in front of him. She cannot bear to see him in pain. Through sheer determination her voice is kept steady and tender, "Your name is Ryan Ronen." Soothing circles are rubbed along the outside of his thigh, the muscles there well known to her palm. "You come from a village called Plainsong. Born to a mother named Raina." As she flicks her eyes up, a glint of pale skin catches her attention. "I am your wife." She traces the tan-line of where his wedding band once rested. "And you," she pulls the necklace carrying hers from around her neck and move his hand away from his face to place it within his palm, "Are my husband. My love."

"I don't -" his breath was growing more rapid as the blood continued to drip from his nostrils before he placed his head in his heads as he looked at the ground, tears building in his eyes. Why was he crying? Why was he bleeding? Why did it hurt so bad? "I don't know you, I-I'm sorry but you have the wrong guy, please just make it stop" he practically cried as he shut his eyes tightly in hopes of making the pain go away

[oftheunbroken]

She simply stares at him, mind blank. He doesn't know her. It is a punch to the gut, breath knocked from her lungs. "You are my husband" Tyche trembles as she speaks, grief warbling her voice, "My partner." A soft sob gets stuck within her throat, "The fath..." Her head turns to the side as she takes a steadying breath as she reminds herself that nothing could be worse than the loss of her son. That whatever is happening here, it cannot be worse than that. "The father of my son." Though his countenance is a stranger to her, Tyche finds herself immediately moving into action, sharing his weight until he is settled into a chair. She wipes the blood from under his nose with her sleeve, violet eyes searching his, "Ryan-- Ryan what's wrong?"

"Hey, hey, listen," he began, fear growing in him as some part of him wanted to keep her close - to never let her go - but he didn't know her, he had never seen her before and none of this made sense. His head was pounding and it was to the point the room began to twist and deform a bit but he was used to this pain - he could withstand it. "I'm sorry, I don't... Do we know each other?" he asked, a small drip of blood finally dropping from one of is nostrils as the pain became overbearing and he found himself forced to sit down

[oftheunbroken]

Tyche could sense the presence behind her before the person spoke, dermal armor beginning to prick against her skin, lest she need to pull it up. But when they finally announce their presence, she cannot help but to snort with derision. "Doesn't arch rival imply that I care enough to think about you?"

She snorts, "By all means, do your worst." The armor begins to come to the surface, crawling against her skin as it locks into place. Her head cocks to the side, an eyebrow lifted mockingly, "I'm waiting."

Closed for @oftheunbroken

Being hated. This was his way of coping. Instead of actually saying he feels sad. He just forced himself to change into his power form, for once ready to fight. He sauntered his way through the crowd before sneaking behind her.

"Well well well. If it isn't my arch rival." He said, the helmet hiding the sneer. "You always say I'm not ready. But here I am." He leaned against the column. "So what are you going to do."

[oftheunbroken]

From the moment her lips brush against his Tyche knows something is wrong. The shape of them is familiar under her mouth but everything else is wrong. He does not languish in her touch or pull her in close so that their bodies meld together. And when his hand pulls hers away... panic. It begins to well up inside her. Never once in their three years together had he sought to get away from her touch. From the first moment they met their bond had been an electromagnet pulling the two of them in. Confusion flutters in her eyes, "It's me, Ryan." She knows the depths of his eyes like the back of her own hand but the man who gazes at her now is a mere stranger. The fear in her voice grows, "It's Tyche."

He could feel the eyes on him like he had done something and, discreetly looking over, he found her to be looking at him with a look of pure shock - as if she knew him. Did he know her? No, but did his head seem to hurt if he paid too much attention to her? Yes. "I-" he barely got out as she ran up to him and cupped his face - him jumping at the, what seemed to be, stranger's embrace. "I'm sorry - hey, uh," he gently grabbed her wrist as he pulled her hand away from his face and looked for a napkin that she could wipe her face with. "How... How do you know my name?"