ArchivedLogs:Campfire

Campfire
Dramatis Personae Killian and Anette
In Absentia	2015-11-22 "What. The hell. Was that?"
Location <BOM> Beachfront - Ascension Island
Largely rocky and desolate, the majority of the waterfront on this small island is an unwelcoming place. Craggy and forbidding, lined with jagged black rocks, the coast here can take a fair bit of scrambling to navigate. Here and there, though, the coastline levels out to narrow sweeps of pebbly beaches littered with shells and seaweed carried in on the frigid tide. Occasional old trunks of fallen trees dot the narrow beach, victims of the storms that frequently plague the island. One small stretch of the western shore holds a small dock, a few boats usually moored there. Tucked off the mainland coast in Jamaica Bay, the buildings and lights of the city can be seen far across the water. There's something going on down along the island's beach. Granted, there's no explosions, no zombie moans, no screams of anger or horror, but certainly activity. It's where the cragginess gives way to a smoother, more level course of sand and pebble, where the stretch becomes open and clear down to the gentle waves of the bay's cold waters. The wind, too, is brisk but not oh so terribly chilly as evening grows later in hour. Across the pebbly beach, the black and white border collie that hasn't been seen for a number of weeks given all that's gone on sprints at full tilt. A water-logged impressively sized tree branch lies in his way, and as the dog jumps to clear it, limbs turn to wings, fur to feathers, and the jump takes him straight upwards to the sky. It's a dramatic thing, this run, this /freedom/, and as the raven dives back to the earth again, it lands as a dog. The same dog that keeps that crazed pace as if no such intermission into the open skies had occurred, and nothing's to worry about except to /run/. Anette's good at finding activity and, with her enhanced hearing, picked up on the sudden menagerie that's somehow overtaken the beach. It doesn't take much to figure out who it is. So here she is, wearing a long leather coat over her wings, jeans and boots as she strolls down to the beach, hands shoved in pockets. As the beach opens up to view, she stops a moment to watch Killian run and fly freely as he shifts forms. She doesn't make herself known right away, content to just watch with a small smile on her face. After a few minutes, she slips two fingers in her mouth and gives a sharp whistle. Once Killian's attention is captured she reaches into her pocket and pulls out...a tennis ball! White paws dig into gravel and sand, sending such things flying in a spray before himself, claws catching what can be caught as the dog hits the stop button so very abruptly. At first brown eyes look up to the familiar Brother with an intensity that's likely more looking for anticipated trouble than what he actually sees. There's a heart beat's worth of time before recognition strikes and intent tail that had been straight down wolfishly quite suddenly rises above his back, swaying in a violent sort of excited wag. Anette grins wide as Killian gets excited, raising her arm and chucking the ball down the beach, careful to keep it away from the water. As Killian runs after it, she makes her way further in, standing out in the open to watch. She looks much better than she did days earlier and even her limp is gone. "Good boy!" she calls out, patiently waiting for him to retrieve the ball. True enough to his breed, intensity and speed carry him like a bullet after that ball. And when it rickochets off of a rock upwards, he's right after it. He manages impressive air for just a four legged beast, dramatic in the pause at the actual catch. Landing, he barely manages to skirt the water-line before he's turned and sprinting back towards Anette. Instead of just dropping the ball at her feet, his tall furry ears pin lightly back to his head, tail waving slowly down by his hocks. It's a strange posture, but certainly- at least- not an aggressive one. And his head would rub against her leg should she allow, ball yet to be relinquished. Anette chuckles a bit as Killian energetically brings the ball back to her. "Show off," she mumbles, squatting down once he rubs his head against her leg. "C'mon, /drop/" she says, a bit sternly, firmly gripping the ball in his mouth and giving a gentle tug, trying to nudge it out if he chooses to release it. A playful growl comes at the tug, the collie tugging back once before he drops it as commanded. Maw wide, tongue lolled slightly askewed to one side in a canid smile, he backs up a couple of bounced steps. Little portrays happiness at something so simple like a dog does, and as he prances back in heightened anticipation of it being thrown again, there's little about him that doesn't seem absolutely enthralled by this concept. This time, the ball is thrown even further out and, unfortunately, hits a rock, makes a 90 degree angle towards the water. It doesn't go very far, ending up only a couple feet from shore but Killian will have to get it quickly before the currents drag it out into the bay. Anette gives a half-hearted apologetic shrug before she sits down on the ground, leaning back on her left arm as she watches the dog. It seems watching Killian's simplistic happiness is enough to make her almost as happy as she's still smiling, waiting to see what he does about the ball now. There's no hesitation whatsoever as the border collie springs from the shore into the water, cold as it may be. Water flies as he lands, not deep enough to swim, but certainly deep enough to submerge the dog in the explosion of waves he makes himself. His whole face goes underwater to pluck the ball from the surface, and when he returns to shore, it's still with an energetic gallop. But this time, there might be a bit more human in his intentions as he retrieves back to Anette's side. Once Killian gets there, he pauses only when he gets right in front of her, looking up at her with those brown eyes and then shaking. From nose to tail-tip, the whole bodied shake of that medium-length fur sends chilly bay water in all directions. Whatever happiness Anette had watching Killian fetch the ball immediately disappears by the shriek and suddenly ducking her head as he shakes water all over her. "Hey, come on! I'll get a newspaper!" she yells, both simultaneously pissed and amused at the same time as she tries to protect herself with her right arm, though movement is still limited in the shoulder. Once Killian she finishes, she wipes water from her face, glancing towards Killian with a smirk. "Well, I /was/ going to offer you my coat." She doesn't make another grab for the ball this time. Bad dog. The collie drops the ball, letting it roll off, down the bank a foot or so. He backs up slightly and within the movement the black and white of fur melts and melds to the lighter hues of skin, and the darkness of Killian's black T-shirt and jeans. The clothing clings to his well-toned form, and he cups his hands together in front of his face as he straightens from the crouch the shift leaves him in, blowing warm air into his palms. Water even continues to drip from his black hair, plastered now to his forehead, but he doesn't seem particularly angry about it. In fact, behind his hands there's a characteristic smirk, his eyes narrowed lightly beneath his heavy brows. And behind the breath that attempts to warm his skin, there's a chuckle that escapes him. "Asked for it." A single brow goes up as Killian shifts back into his human form, the water clinging to his form, clothes clinging tightly to him, goes far from unnoticed. "Mmm, suddenly it was worth it," she responds playfully before giving a slight chuckle and grinning. "Well, at least you don't smell like wet dog anymore." She glances down to her own, now wet form and crinkles her nose. "But I do..." Looking back up to Killian as he attempts to warm himself, she begins slipping out of her coat. "Here, last thing you need is to catch another bug." Because that's all the zombie flu was. Just a bug. Killian oddly tips his head to one side and turns from her, as if in indication for her follow. "Not even a fuckin' joke. C'mon." He says over his shoulder on the note of catching bugs. There's a distinct /lack/ of amusement in that comment, and probably something else muttered under his breath as he starts to move. Although he does stoop to take the ball as he passes by it, he's first walking then lightly jogging down the gentle slope to a different part of the beach not all so far away. Settled in between a boulder or two, there's a collection various dried sea drift wood in pile that looks just ready to be lit aflame. And he slows once there, climbing onto a flatter rock nearby, a box of matches set atop it. At the motion, Anette stands back up, slipping her coat back on over her shoulders as it seems Killian doesn't plan on taking it. "Sorry," she mumbles, leaving it at that. She follows closely behind Killian as he leads them towards the pile of drift wood. "Ah, very nice," she says in approval, picking a boulder nearby to sit on while Killian gets a fire going. "Hey...while you're here and human, I need to talk to you." Whatever it is has her a bit nervous though she tries very hard to hide it, though her wrapping her coat tighter about her body probably doesn't help much. Killian kneels beside the drift wood; the matches being a bit damp from their location makes the first couple strikes uneventful. But soon enough there's crackling leaves beneath the larger branches, the smokey smell of burning tinder rising before the sparks begin to catch them. Puffs of breath speed up the process, her request heard but not responded to for a prolonged stretch. Eventually he sits back near Anette, palms towards the baby-but-growing fire. "Are you in trouble?" There's enough of an edge of a grin to make it partially a joke but, of course, partially not. Anette releases one of those strained chuckles and shakes her head. "No, not yet." Could mean nothing, could mean anything. As the fire begins to grow in strength, she holds her hands out, absorbing the heat from the fire. "I did take your advice and found better coke though. Strong, probably not cut with Tide. Expensive as hell. Managed to make a deal though," Anette says, opening her coat again as the fire continues to grow, warming both of them up. "I offered him protection." This last sentence is said with the strain of trying just a little too hard to say it casually. She doesn't look at Killian at all during this, focusing instead on the growing tendrils of flame. "My advice." Killian clears his throat, leaning with his elbows rested over his thighs and one brow slightly risen. "Was to stay out of it." The clarification comes at the cost of the rest of that grin, expression hardening further. The shapeshifter becomes particularly still after, keeping his gaze forward too. "You're making other deals with those fuckers now." Is not a question, but he does sigh heavily at it to evade the tension that wants to creep up already with this particular topic. He doesn't, however, escape the dryly irritated sarcasm that comes with the rest of it, "What protection? Attack bird for his shoulder?" "Well, that was never going to happen," Anette says simply. "I can't...stay out of it." Killian's comments garners gritted teeth from her but she just takes a deep breath. "I do what I have to to get it," Anette responds, the tone in her voice beginning to darken. She raises a brow as Killian questions what kind of protection, turning her head to finally look at him. "All I promised was that I could keep the same thing that happened to Chang from happening to him. If it comes to that - yes. Though I was hoping simple talking would suffice." "I offered-" The shapeshifter cuts himself off, lowering his head into his hands to rub his face. There's a strained, brief laugh as he does so, "You understand what you've done, right?" Killian still doesn't look at her, shaking his head slowly in some unspoken joke, in disbelief. "You understand saying no to them is the same shit as saying I'm leaving this-" He straightens slightly in order to gesture a hand towards the island- an indication of the Brotherhood. "I do whatever the fuck I'm told. I'm a dog, Anette. That's all." There's a tense pause, and then he rises to take a step or two away. "You'd take the chance of us needing to kill each other, over powder? Fucking shit that I could get /for/ you?" "Last I remember, you exactly weren't thrilled about getting it yourself either," Anette snaps angrily. "And I couldn't wait for you! With everything going on lately, I just..." she fades off, growing too frustrated to continue justifying herself. "It's one person. ONE. I'm not asking you to quit, just to avoid one person who may not even end up being a target." Now it's her turn to chuckle in disbelief and shake her head. "You are /not/ a dog. You're a human and mutant whether you like it or not and can think for yourself." As Killian rises, she rises also, keeping up with him. She is not going to let this go. "If we end up trying to kill each other /again/, it will only be because you threw the first blow. /Again/." Her yellow eyes nearly pierce through Killian, eyes wide and mouth narrow with anger. Her voice cools just enough for her to murmur, "Crack, not powder." "I don't get to choose." Killian growls, turning to face her when she decides to follow, his blue eyes staring into her yellow ones just as fiercely but with a cruel grin that doesn't quite fit, "You're right. Maybe he'll never be. But you should know the goddamn risk of him bein' on the list if Chang was. Everyone connected with every other fucking person. You promise safety of all his lackeys too?" He reaches for her wrist to hold it, stepping very much /too/ close, "Do you get it?" His voice drops much lower given this closeness 'less she pulls away, "You know what fucking betrayal means when people have shit to hide." Anette clenches her fist and firmly tugs on her wrist, trying to break free from Killian's grasp. However, her feet remain planted firmly on the ground and eyes locked with his, showing no other sign of wanting to leave. "Of course not. He didn't give a shit about his lackeys and I didn't offer to protect them. Only him." She grits her teeth together again, breathing heavily as Killian stands close to her, staring down at her. "I don't care what you have to do. Say no, fake it, I don't fucking care. I am politely asking you to stay away from him. I really like you and really hope it doesn't come to it but I gave him my word and I /will/ physically protect him from you if it comes to that. For both of us, please don't let that happen." From angry to simmering, Killian's gaze searches hers. He holds her wrist tighter despite her attempts to pull away, his muscles flexing, attempting to pull her arm to his chest- his shirt there still damp but warmed by the fire's glow. "I've survived this long because I do... whatever it takes." His voice drops in this warning to a rough whisper that is neither an answer to her request, nor a promise of safety to either side. And as she continues, he pulls her suddenly much closer, leaning into her at the same time to wrap his other arm around her back and press his lips to hers in a rather impassioned if abrupt kiss. Standing her ground, Anette tries very hard not to appear intimidated by the shifter. She even succeeds for the most part. His moving of her arm to his chest does break her concentration, her brows furrowing in confusion. As he whispers, she merely returns his gaze, eyes locked onto his. Her lips part as she begins to respond she doesn't quite make it that far, Killian taking the opportunity to lock more than eyes. Shocked, yes. Still angry, definitely. Disliking it...not so much. Whatever she's feeling, she's not pushing him away. Hell, she even kisses him back. Perhaps it's the shock. Still, whenever the kiss ends, it's only a heartbeat's time before she suddenly reaches up and slaps him across the face. "What. The hell. Was that?" she asks, her voice firm but emotionless. At the very least, less angry than before. Though there's definitely still some anger lingering underneath. She looks to him, eyes still wide though less with rage and more...surprise? It's as if her brain has shorted out and is currently rebooting. Killian's grip on her wrist loosens slightly during the kiss, though the pressure on her lower back and into her lips certainly does not. When it ends, he looks back down into her eyes. A grin is just starting, twisting the edge of his expression until it's very abruptly stopped by the strike of her hand across his face, a refresh perhaps of some of the marks nearly healed on the other side of his face. His head appropriately turned away by the pointed slap, he releases the rest of the grip he'd had on her, lifting the hand instead to rub the red dribble that begins to ooze from the much more superficial than before marks she leaves. As he studies the blood on his finger-tips, the shifter considers, "Does it have to be anything?" Furrows mark his brow, a huff of a laugh in a single breath, "Just stay off the streets." He says as he yet again turns from her, this time as if to really leave. Apparently Anette is just as shocked by the slap as Killian is, or at least its bloody result. "Sorry, I..." she begins to murmur before pausing. There's not much she really can say. She slowly reclaims her wrist once it's finally released, holding it to her own chest. Her brows furrowed slightly, all her anger seems to have disappeared and she now watches Killian thoughtfully. "No, it doesn't..." she agrees, reaching out to grab Killian's wrist this time, pulling him back to face her. “Not a chance,” she whispers, wrapping her good arm about his shoulder and leaning in for a kiss of her own. Killian is malleable to her grab of his wrist, stopped easily, but anticipating nothing as he's faced back at her with a casual turn of his head to look her over again. He's quiet, her kiss returned without argument, with his free hand slipped behind her neck to gently hold her head there should she allow. But he breaks it earlier than the first, his mysterious grin not an entirely pleasant one, "Love, you make it hard to be selfish." Is whispered, his forehead touched gently, briefly to hers, and with a softened chuckle, "But even I won't be able to hide from all the targets you put on back." A smirk dances on Anette’s lips as Killian presses his forehead to hers. "Let me worry about the targets," she whispers, giving a playful wink and slowly breaking free. She sits back down on the boulder, gently patting the spot beside her where Killian had been sitting earlier. "Either way, seems pointless to just waste the campfire." Since they've last looked at it, it has built up to a nice, roaring fire, radiating light and warmth and creating a very pleasant atmosphere, despite the events of the last few minutes. Killian follows her with his eyes first, releasing what hold he had on her as she returns to the previous seat. Her response gets an uneven grin and slow shake of his head, but a lack of words in the moment, whether distracted or leaving the battle be where it may. The shapeshifter does join her, sitting close- shoulder to shoulder, with one of his arms behind her with thoughtfulness of avoiding trapping her wings with the effort. His gaze slips from her eyes to her lips and back. "I'd intended to sleep by it." He says still quiet, insinuating what may be taken from that. Anette doesn't seem to mind Killian beside her, nor the arm wrapped around her. Still, she seems to be distracted by the fire once again, leaning forward with her arms propped against her legs, watching the flames dance about, simultaneously enjoying the warmth from the fire on her face and Killian's own heat radiating onto her. At his comment, she merely turns her head and asks him, "Would you like me to leave?" There's no tone or expression accompanying it. Just a simple question requiring a simple answer. Killian's grin broadens slightly, his eyes narrowing in a playful sort of way. But then it's gone, that look, as his attention refocuses on the fire. He's quiet in thought, before he finally gives an easy, "Nah." Simply dismissive, there's snap-crackling of the fire in the interim, the night growing quieter with just the gentle sound of water behind them. "Don't often have company," He likely means 'wants' company with the way that comment claims tinge of amusement with it, "Do you wanna leave?" Anette's grin brightens ever so slightly by his response, though it quickly disappears and she settles with a peaceful, content look as she stares back into the fire. "No," she responds quietly after a few minutes, sitting up straight again and leaning up comfortably against Killian's arm. "You make it hard to be loyal," she says with amusement, the wing opposite Killian stretching out to gently fan the campfire. Killian chuckles quietly, the effort deep in his chest- more felt than heard as she leans against his arm. That hand holds gently to her waist, then, as he leans back on his other. The note on loyalty brings about a longer stretch of quiet as they sit there, though there's no tension in his frame, no reaction. He just watches the fire, lost in thought- or thoughts- "I don't regret it." He says finally, his natural arrogance there but his demeanor generally subdued for now, "But you don't bring any lack of threats with you."