ArchivedLogs:The Perfect Lullaby

The Perfect Lullaby
Dramatis Personae Anette and Killian
In Absentia	2016-02-18 "Waiting for you to say that has been more patience than I care to have"
Location Northern Palisades Interstate Park
The fire roars more than crackles, the firepit now well-utilized darkened deeply by the charred remains of the wood of hours past, the newer lumber stacked properly instead of a tossed in. The snow has all but entirely melted from the vicinity from the continued warmth of it, the smoke collected above and around by the overhang of trees- but in a comforting way, not so suffocating. Other logs have been placed in particular places about the cabin, protecting the shabby walls from cross-winds and allowing a much more inviting interior. And even tonight doesn't prove to be as cold as it has been, though the sky is just as clear, just as delightful in the crisp tail of winter. Although Anette may have been kidding about the bear or hawk going hunting, Killian wasn't. Cleaned somethings- probably rabbit- are already well on their way to cooked over the open flame on a crudely crafted spit. There's also a bag of chips- a little less on the 'roughing it' side, open and propped against one of the heavy logs meant as seats. Killian stands beside the fire, one hand shoved in his black leather jacket's pocket, the other tipping a very sadly empty flask over the flames- not even a drop to be spared. The cabin door creeps open and Anette steps out, a blanket wrapped about her shoulders. She grins happily at the sight of the fire and makes her way over, eyes lingering appreciatively on the roasting animals before she looks over to Killian. "Hey," she says, sitting down beside Killian. She watches him struggle with the empty flask, taking a moment to appreciate the disappointed expression on his face before she shakes her head, opening her blanket shawl to reveal her hand and the unopened bottle of Captain Morgan she has hidden beneath. "I suppose I can share," she says, twisting the top off before handing it to Killian to take the first drink. The redness to his face suggests that the flask was emptied recently. But when Anette arrives, the strictness of his expression- of unspoken thoughts, that common darkness he has about him- fades into that partial smile she can get out of him. Killian's blue eyes drop back to the flask as he screws the top back into place and then tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Her reveal- and the words that go with it- get him to turn to decrease the distance. "You know the way to my heart all too well." Is given with a sly, and smug, wink as he takes the offering. He leans to place a kiss on her forehead, and then turn slightly to take a long draught from the bottle. There's a faint, pleased grimace accompanied with the swallow and he hands it back to her for her own take. "Tell you what, love. Never took a damn 'vacation' before, if that's what you could call this. Been sorely missing out." The kiss to her forehead is met with a pleased grin, Anette passing the bottle off to him. "I mean this in the nicest way possible: you are incredibly easy to please," she says with a grin, patiently waiting for him to finish his gulp before reclaiming it and chugging down a couple shots worth herself. "Not really. You just got incredibly lucky for your first vacation. They're usually pretty terrible." She sets the bottle down on the ground before swinging the blanket off her shoulders to lay across her lap, leaning back on her arms as she basks in warmth of the fire. "I gotta say, I thought you were crazy when you suggested this but it's been pretty damn relaxing." Killian lifts the spit off the fire, pulling the finished roasted meats off and onto a cleaned tray to be picked at as desired. "Terrible?" He says off-handedly before joining her where she sits, "What makes them so terrible? Unless you just pick shitty company." He chuckles over her admitted sentiment, shaking his head, amusement creating lines at the corners of his eyes as they're narrowed at the fire. "Crazy, eh. That's not wrong in general but not for getting away- I'm good at a lot of things, but getting away is probably the best of it. Never with someone, though. That," He shrugs crookedly, "is new. Be better if it was warm, damn layers." There's a brief glance at her, then back at the fire, suggestive as it is. "The majority of my vacations have been the 'dragged along by family' type so the company was not chosen," Anette says, anxiously waiting for the meat to arrive so she can lean forward and peel off a chunk to pop in her mouth, washed down with another swig of rum. "I don't doubt it," she says, in regards to his professed talent at getting away. "I need more ways to get away that don't carry a risk of OD'ing." His comment about being new to company gets a playful smirk, turning her head to watch him curiously. "Never before? Well, do you regret it yet?" "Ah." Killian takes the bottle when she's done, hardly shy about taking plenty of it, before setting it back down. "Didn't like your family? I'd like to say rum fixes everything, but it ain't gonna help much with decision makin' back home." The word 'home' has a hint of a hesitation to it, but he shakes his head after. "Nothin' to regret. Haven't been in a situation to go anywhere with anyone 'til now. Always been-" He motions vaguely, slightly with a hand, "Busy." There's a smirk with that, cryptic, and that same hand goes into the chips bag to grab a handful as he settles elbows over knees to munch a couple . "I was friendly enough with my family. They were even mostly ok with the mutant thing. Parents anyway, I might have lost an aunt or uncle. It just...created tension. They meant well, just didn't know how to handle it." Anette pauses long enough to grab a few chips herself and munch on them. "I don't really talk about it because so many of us have been kicked out and abused by family for being who we are. It's kinda awkward to say I'm ok with my family. Other than cutting ties since ending up on the news one too many times for alleged terrorism." She takes another swig of her bottle, glancing to Killian curiously. "What about yours? You keep in touch?" "We go through enough shit. Nothing wrong with having at least one thing to chalk up to somewhat good." Killian chrunches another chip, and reaches to tear off a piece of roasted rabbit to supplement the starch. "Alleged." He echoes, and it earns a smirk. "Never get credit for the good stuff." Though his humored tone of course adds the unspoken 'not that they /want/ to get personal credit for such things. Although his expression doesn't change much, his tone is somewhat stiff on the subject of his own, "I ain't a special snowflake there. Haven't seen 'em since my first shift. Didn't see 'em much to start with as it was, so not a loss either way." This requires another drink, but he's already had enough- even before Anette came from the cabin- that he's sufficiently buzzed to not evade topics. "I got myself pretty famous that first shift." This, more amused, as he watches the fire, "I'm sure someone saw my face on the news. Got caught up by the lab assholes within a few days, so never had to face 'em directly. Suppose I could count that as 'good'." "Right. No one remembers me rescuing a kid from a crooked politician but I knock down ONE Sentinel while drunk..." Anette says with a chuckle, taking another swig from the bottle in attempt to catch up with Killian as far as tipsiness goes. She goes quiet as Killian tells his side, nodding along faintly as she stares into the fire. "It happens," she says, once he finishes his story, carving a chunk of meat off with a talon, tearing it apart in her hands before eventually nibbling on it. "Sometimes you just need to find your own family. And if you're lucky, it'll actually work." "Oops." Killian awards her story, a mockingly disappointed shake of his head offered to it. There's a breathy chuckle that follows her response to his story. "Yeahyeah, a lot of things just fuckin' /happen/ don't they?" There's a dark curl to that, the flush to his features more notable now, his volume a little bolder. "Need to?" He asks, glancing back to Anette to study her lightly at that, "You think everyone needs one? Or should have one?" "Well, I don't know about that," Anette says thoughtfully, picking her blanket off her lap and wrapping it around her shoulders again at the first signs of a shiver. "There was a time I would have said no. You think you're the only one who's decided they do better on their own? But now, well, I wouldn't leave the Brotherhood for anything. And not just because I swore loyalty." She takes another large gulp of rum, the alcohol beginning to settle in and loosen her own inhibitions. "But you probably shouldn't put too much faith in what I say. I'm the crazy unstable one, remember?" This is said with some amusement and a side-glance and smirk to Killian. Though it's said at least partially serious. Killian straightens enough to be able to take the edge of her blanket from her to put himself beneath it too- or at least as much as he can. He shifts slightly, sneaking an arm around her, his continued smirk evident throughout the subtle-but-not effort to draw her close. "Never claimed such a thing." He drawls a bit, slurrs a little, in amusement, "And you say that as if I'm normal." There's a mild roll of his eyes with that. "But no, I wasn't talking about the Brotherhood. I've always been in gangs and groups. We were talking about more.. eh.. personal family. Unless the Brotherhood is all you want, then-" He trails off, feigning loss of interest, "All is perfect." Killian's failed attempts to be subtle are met with an eyeroll. And a reluctant sharing of her blanket and inching closer to him. She adjusts herself so her head is laying comfortably on his shoulder. "You're doing better than me," she mumbles in response as he argues his own sanity. She continues to shift and adjust herself, getting more comfortable in his embrace though it stops abruptly when he clarifies his definition of 'family'. "I think I've told you how well my attempts at family go. Granted, they technically haven't happened yet." An answer that doesn't really answer the question, followed by a quick grab for the bottle and large gulp. Killian's disagreement comes in an exhaled 'hmh' of a chuckle. But he doesn't drop into that particular subject, even if it sobers him enough that his tipsiness and slurring steadies. He lays his head on hers, eyes closed. "Ain't happened, may never happen. I don't believe in predestined fate nonsense. The reason why dogs are so happy? Only the present matters. Living in the moment and all that. You tell a dog he's gonna be punished tomorrow, he'd have nothing to say but fuck that shit and throw my ball." A soft smile appears as Killian lays his head on hers, as hard to see as it is. "I don't really believe in fate either. It's hard not to see it as a warning though. And may never happen doesn't mean won't happen." She closes her own eyes, her breathing slow and steady as she follows their discussion and enjoys the moment: slowly breathing in the scent of pine and roast meat, absorbing the warmth of the fire and Killian beside her, letting go of nearly all thoughts from her mind and setting aside her usual worries. "I don't know what I'd want. The idea still terrifies me but...I'd give it a try," she says, breaking the silence and finally answering his question. "We run the strong risk of not being alive from one day to the next by default." Killian murmurs quieter now, though there's the impossible to see twitch of his lips as if the thought is somehow partly intriguing in its own right. "You figure out what you want, I'll see what I can do about.. fulfilling it. Can't say I'll be- or think- the same from one day to the next, but that should hardly be surprising." This part earns a self-prompted heavy exhale, an adjustment if only to sneak the bottle of rum back to himself. A long drink and he's not as quick to relinquish it, proping it up on his knee and falling into a reflective quiet. "Well, the one thing I'm good at is surviving," Anette says, her voice taking on a subtle dark tone at the reminder of the risks. The more he continues speaking, the more tense her body feels against him though oddly enough, not as tense as she has been in previous similar discussions. "What if I know I want you?" she asks quietly, not carrying the usual playful and suggestive tones that she would usually deliver that with, implying something more than just immediate satisfaction. Killian doesn't respond immediately, drinking again somewhere in the stretch of quiet and taking a heavy breath again, this time more related to relaxing than at anything particular said. At her question, there's a brief interim before he lifts his head away from hers. In the motion, the bottle is set back onto the ground, his hand instead rising to cup the side of her cheek and lean in to kiss her. It would be brief, this, if permitted. "I have a habit of taking what I want." He says quietly when he pulls slightly away to look into her eyes with his own gently narrowed ones, his smile crooked but softly present, "Waiting for you to say that has been more patience than I care to have." Anette doesn't expect anything to come of this, keeping her head on Killian's shoulder and watching the flames until his hand redirects her gaze. Lifting her head and looking into his eyes, she doesn't quite realize it's for a kiss until his lips are pressed against hers. His admittance is met not with a grin or chuckle or pleasant response. Instead, she merely raises a single brow. "I told you I loved you a month ago. You made me tell you and then you walked away." "I was also angry, if you recall, love." Killian lets his hand fall away given her response, leaning forward on his forearms on his knees to look back at the fire, unfocused. "And I'd just come back after a long... My mind was-" He dismisses the incomplete thoughts and excuses with a soft clearing of his throat. The softness of his expression hardens by degrees until he drops his head, rubbing the back of his neck roughly. "You say that as if I left." Anette watches Killian for a few more seconds, before turning her head with a 'hmmph' and facing the fire herself. "No, you didn't leave," she agrees, picking up the bottle once more and holding it in her hand for the moment. "I just assumed I was your Miss Tuesday. Which would have been fine, I just wanted to know...something." She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a slow but long drink from it, holding the rum in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it down. "How long have you been waiting?" Killian rubs the rough stubble of his face before tilting his gaze to the side to look at her as she drinks, one brow raised. "Really." The arrogance of his tone is fitting for him, if not for the conversation. "You yourself pointed out my bachelor pad is anything but. Wolves don't commonly sulk by nature." Is a reference to way back when, intended to be an answer to her of sorts. "I also don't make a habit of trying to get killed for everyone. Quite the opposite, actually." "Plenty of the Brotherhood have second apartments in the city. It's not as if you could bring girls home to a secret island filled with criminals," Anette says with a lightly shrug. The mention of the sulking wolf has her sitting up straight, turning her head to face him with wide, surprised eyes. "That long ago? While I was still...with him? This whole time I thought he was just a jealous ass. Forget what I said earlier. You /are/ crazier than me." She turns back to the fire with half a grin, running her talons through her hair, combing it back away from her face. "God, if he ever comes back..." "..If he ever comes back," Killian continues for her, "I'll be gone." The dark amusement with that is short lived, his volume and enthusiasm draining with it by the end, and no joke or question of his intention implied. But he does hold up a hand in request for an amendment, "To be fair, the dog really did just want companionship and you were the only one I was fairly certain didn't pose an immediate threat. That, I didn't lie about." "I'll tell you now what I told you then. Let me handle him," Anette says, also taking a more serious tone. That tone is gone almost instantly as Killian explains himself, replaced once more by a grin. "And what, everything else was a lie?" she teases, glancing towards him briefly. "Speaking of the dog, what's he been up to with the shirt I gave him?" "I wouldn't put you at that risk. I would kill me too." This is much darker, his blue eyes staring at the flames. But her next question earns the change of the turn of the edge of his lips- a slight grin in response. "Not everything." Enigmatic response is followed with a shrug, the shapeshifter sitting up again to come out of the sudden violent turn of thought the earlier notes took, "It's the most comforting scent in his.. ah.. nest on that futon. The perfect lullaby."