ArchivedLogs:Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
Dramatis Personae Anette and Killian
In Absentia	2015-12-16 "Y'know, hate and passion ain't that far apart, love."
Location <BOM> Beachfront - Ascension Island
It's a cooler evening, in contrast to the unseasonably warm weather as of late. The moon is but a sliver in the clear sky in its waxing crescent phase, bright for what little of it can be seen. In part of the beach that is utterly unwelcoming, where slabs of jagged black rocks drop off dramatically into the fairly frigid waters that crash on their bases below. It's in a divit of these, where sand has collected from historical high waters, between slabs of big and small rocks, that Killian has been found before. Where logs are set aside in a fire-pit like set-up that isn't currently a'blaze. A canine much bigger than the border collie typically roaming the island is doing something in that general area. The large white wolf has his head shoved under a rock, the sounds of stone sliding over and against each other amidst claws scratching against sand and stone alike. Beside it is a grey sack, lumpy and full to the brim with whatever contents are within. For once, tonight's casual stroll takes place on the ground. Anette has been wandering the island, mostly keeping to herself, content to just breathe fresh air and enjoy the peace and quiet. With no particular reason for showing up here, her feet simply take her to the beach, retracing steps she took weeks before, despite the jagged black rocks. As the firepit comes into view, she pauses, a faint smile on her lips when notices the firewood stacked. With Killian just out of view, she lifts her fingers to her mouth and gives a sharp but friendly whistle, taking a stab in the dark about who's present and what form he takes. Over the crest of a jagged slab suddenly peer the yellow eyes of the wolf just after the sharp whistle. One perked ear pivots back behind it, then towards Anette again. The oversized canine bounds over the rocks separating them, closing the distance with mere strides of its long, swift gait. As the wolf nears her, ears tuck back lightly against its head, tail down but waving slowly in the semblance of a wag. Killian closes the distance, circling around behind her and then trotting off in the direction he'd come, only to disappear and reappear with the sack that he drops beside the unlit fire pit. Anette watches with an amused grin as Killian greets her, simply standing and letting him approach and circle her. As he runs off, she watches him with a curious gaze, the look only stronger when he returns with a sack. "Buried treasure?" she asks, making her way over to the firepit and sitting cross-legged on the ground, glancing towards the sack as if unsure if it's meant for her or not. The white wolf picks up the sack again as she sits, dragging it at first and then lifting it to drop it in her cross-legged lap. As it's dropped, the loosely tied twine that had kept it close unravels easily, pouring a couple stacks of bound bills and jewelry onto her and the ground beside her. Bracelets, necklaces, rings of diamonds and other precious jewels, of various metals- white gold, platinum and gold of plentiful carats. It's not all unlike a pirate's stash in the variety of treasure that can be found in there, except maybe the lack of a crown or two. The wolfish grin that follows could be anthropomorphized to be proud or amused or both, as he circles around her again. This, a more predatory thing, in the wolf's natural stalk. But he lays beside her instead of continuing to pace, yellow eyes watching her expression. Anette finally gets the hint and begins digging through the goods. "Not a single bottle of booze. I'm disappointed," she says, shaking her head in mock disapproval before pulling out a diamond tennis bracelet. "Though this isn't a bad substitute. What'd you do, rob a jewelry store?" she asks, admiring the sparkling of the diamonds in the limited light. Her other hand, whether an intentional decision or just instinct from something fluffy lying beside her, reaches down to gently scratch at the wolf's scruff. A grumbly growl doesn't exactly sound displeased at the scratching, though there's a sigh after her comment that seems far more human than canine. But the shapeshifter remains in that form despite the company while she traverses through his loot. Eventually, the wolf shifts to sit upright, close enough that the heavy, thick, long furs are almost touching her shoulder. Only then does the fur receed, limbs extending and white replaced by black of jeans and leather jacket. "Bottles are a little heavier to carry back with my wings, beautiful. That's all yours though, if you want it. Pretty enough without it, though." He leans forwards, elbows on his knees and legs crossed. Once she feels Killian shift forms, Anette pulls her hand away and drops the bracelet back in, digging through the bag again only to pull out a gold engagement ring, set with a diamond. She looks towards Killian with a very exaggerated dreamy look, eyelashes fluttering. "Oh, I had no idea you felt that way. I do!" Apparently, that's the longest she can keep a straight face before cracking up and dropping the ring back in. "God, there's a small fortune in here. I don't know what I did to deserve this, unless you're passing out jewelry to the entire island." "Ah, love, if only it puts you in the mood to celebrate." Killian notes lowly, slyly with a wink, his grin easy and amused. But instead of moving towards her, he rocks forwards and up onto his boots. He doesn't go far though, instead just far enough to reach the wood pile and stack a few logs criss-crossed in the middle of the rock ring. He fishes matches out from under a few smaller slates, which strike the dried wood into the tiny smoking starts of a flame. "I imagine most of the brothers have made good use of the recent times, ain't need my help. Ion sure has made the place more homey, to say the least." He returns to her with that, sitting in the same spot, but closer to his shoulder touching hers. "You did a job, gotta get your pay, yeah?" "Very rarely am I not in the mood to celebrate," Anette says playfully as she scoops up the goods back into the bag and ties it off. She watches as Killian builds the fire. "Wouldn't know, haven't left my cabin much lately." As he sits back down beside her, nods slightly. "Well, I'd say that particular job was it's own payment. But I won't complain about a bonus." She reaches for the bag again, pulling out the tennis bracelet again only to clip it onto her wrist. "For a dog, you have decent taste in jewelry." Killian manipulates a necklace between his fingers, one that matches the tennis bracelet. He must have picked it out of the bag previously. Unclipping the clasp, he holds it up to drape it across her neck if she'd allow. "Feeling less shitty then?" Is asked quietly, with a soft breathy chuckle following her observation. "Nothing better than playing a little game of chase now and then to mix things up, y'know. Damn dog gets in all sorts of trouble, thinks it's all a game." All its fault, apparently. "Spent plenty of this time doing that sort of thing. This," He dips his chin in indication of the bag. "Not the least of it. More rawhides and chewtoys than I could ever ask for." As Killian moves behind her, she pulls her hair up and to the side for easier access to put the necklace on. "Yeah, I'm fine..." she says, though the tone of her voice suggests she might not be honest. She does smirk faintly at Killian's words though. "Oh, I'm pretty sure it's not just the dog that's up to trouble," she teases, turning back towards Killian again once the necklace is in place. "Well then, now my pig ear gift seems so small and pointless." Blue eyes watch her, curious, studious, but he doesn't question that answer. Instead, his smirk broadens. "Of course it's the dog." Killian finishes with the clasp, though his fingers linger on the back of her neck, then behind her back as he rests back on his other. "Couldn't chalk this face up to doing something as petty as stealin', could ya?" His sarcasm, at least, is obvious. "Not a damn bit. Was eaten that night. And like I said, I ain't got the wing power to bring back my own rum on a regular basis without taking a boat, fuckin' things so slow compared to flyin'. Never enough of the stuff, could only wish there was a constant supply." He pauses a beat, and then asks, "Are you stayin' out of trouble?" "A thieving dog. Not the weirdest thing I've seen or head," Anette says with a chuckle, looking out to the fire as it grows in strength. "Of course not, it's an incredibly honest face." His complaining about the lack of strength to carry bottles gets a shake of her head. "Excuses, excuses. You can do better. Though if you're wanting a constant supply, I'm sure we can arrange something." At his question, she turns to face him. "You mean am I running out to murder more dealers? No, not yet. G and his goons were enough for now." Killian runs his fingers over the scruff of his face as she comments on it, but rolls his eyes with a shake of his head at her response, "You find me a bigger bird to copy an' I'll bring back bigger goods." But all that aside, he sighs, a wistful sort of look joining the sarcastic one, "The city's been clearin' up lately. Streets getting cleaned up and shit. Not nearly as bad as it was. Lifting's not as easy, closer to gettin' back to normal. Unfortunate- but I suppose I was getting rusty, assuming nobody's paying attention all the time. Hope you took advantage of it for a little while at least?" "I had my mind on other things. Mostly pilfered food, actual supplies, occasional bottle. I did grab a couple DVDs though," Anette says, giving a faint shrug. "Honestly...I'm kinda happy the city's returning to normal. It'll be nice to just...walk down the street like a normal person." She turns back towards Killian with a playful grin. "Besides, trouble's no fun when it's too easy. The challenge is what gets your heart racing." "There's something to be said for easy." Killian objects, but with an equal playfulness. "Faster jobs, less chance of dying. But I /will/ agree the entertainment is lacking. The fucking process. Nothing like it." He doesn't elaborate, instead picking up a longer stick to poke at the fire, turning over the burning wood to heighten the flames. "You and Pete getting toasty? He helping to distract you from other things?" "Pete and I are taking a bit of a break. My call, actually," Anette says, watching Killian poke at the fire. "I was getting concerned his feelings were getting in the way. He has them and I don't. But he's been a good friend and roommate otherwise so I can't complain." She turns faintly towards Killian and winks. "Even if my bed's been a bit lonely lately." "Tsk." Killian's brows furrow in mock concern, a slow, contemplative shake of his head following. "Well well, we can't be havin' that, sweetheart. No need for you to be lonely. Not with your pick of companions." His hand behind her snakes around her lower back, drawing her to him, a suggestively playful grin spreading where false-concern had been. His words are suspiciously slow, easy, sly, "Surprised you ain't gotta line at your door with that sort of complaint. Don't believe you yet that you're feelin' all /that/ great, but I can keep you warm in more ways then one, just you say so." "You know, I want to take you seriously, but the only time you've ever kissed me is when you wanted to murder me," Anette says with a smirk, drawn closer to Killian as he pulls her in. "And I'm supposed to just let you in my bed?" She does let out a faint chuckle at the comment about a line. "You think I let just anyone in? Contrary to popular belief, I do have /some/ standards." She leans up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, though she pretends to examine her nails in disinterest. "Though at this point, I'm starting to think you're all talk." "Almost lost a leg for you at the start, callin' you hot." Killian states, though it's not entirely remembered in amusement. "Couple bullets to the chest. A kiss by firelight. Y'know, hate and passion ain't that far apart, love." His other hand lifts to her chin to tilt her head up towards him when she pretends that disinterest, watching her expression for a moment. Then, he seeks her lips in a kiss, not exactly driven by rage this time but with just as much pressure, just as much intent. But it's brief, and when he pulls away just an inch, he adds in a lower volume, just barely above a whisper, "/I/ think I meet a bit higher of a bar than just somethin' the cat dragged in." "Yes, well, that particular problem is no longer here, is he?" Anette says, her tone darkening as her feelings about that incident seep through. "Hate and passion really do go hand in hand...it's pretty much how we made it work as long as we did." She turns her head towards Killian as he positions it, her expression bright, attentive, anticipating. She returns his kiss with just as much passion and intent, reluctantly letting go when he does. His comment is met with a smirk and quick raise of an eyebrow. "I wouldn't still be here if you didn't," she whispers back, leaning forward again to initiate the next kiss herself. Killian adjusts slightly to draw his other arm from behind himself to touch the side of her neck, cupping her face slightly, his embrace with his first already a strong one, unrelenting to let go 'lest she really try to pull away. There's a smaller grin, a distracted grin, that's the reply for her whisper. And when she re-initiates, he meets her lean with another, longer kiss. One which leads to the hand on her lower back straying downwards, suggestively so, playfully so. And as he leans into her, more controlling this time, he doesn't seem to intend to make it as far as her cabin.