Hey Lady [Open]

[Bre]

She's bored in a week . . .

The wind blew through her hair, tugging at it relentlessly, but the wind could not hold her down. She ran on without fear, plunging forward with abandon for all else. Her feet hit the ground like wicked thunder, thumping with each strike. The heel came down first, quickly followed by the toe. It gave her a bounce to her steps, an extremely fast bounce. Her stride was a sprinter's stride, long and rolling without wasted motion. Her arms pumped furiously at her sides. However, her body twisted with muscle and sinew, making her look more like a leggy runner or a horse ready for the race. On and on, she ran, a wild, devilish smile plastered on her face. When she was running, she felt free. She was the queen of the world, incapable of being caught. Spreading her arms out, she laughed to herself, chuckling despite the limited air that she had.

The race to the eyrie had been a long one for Marion, but it was over. She had safely delivered the message that she had been entrusted to carry to the Phoenix. That begged the question of why and where she was running at that point. No longer was she acting as a messenger. She was running for the sake of running. Mostly. The long tunnel in the canyon's side was widening out and she could see light at the end. She quickened her pace, lunging forward with triumph. Behind her, she could hear them coming after her, chasing her down the long corridor. It had been a good chase, but they were far behind her. Still, it felt like they were breathing down her neck. Quicker, quicker, she urged her feet to carry her a little farther, a little faster. They couldn't catch her. She had to be free of them! They had no right to stop her, because no one had that right.

Finally, Marion burst out into the canyon bed. She didn't stop, whirling to race off across the rocky settlement. Her pursuers had also reached the light. They were yelling after her, cursing and swearing. She continued to run, laughter catching in the wind and in her thumping chest. Reaching a fence line, she hurtled it without question, not even breaking stride. She could hear the snort of a worried horse or two nearby but she just kept on running. She didn't even feel tired. In truth, they had never had a chance in hell of catching her. She was the unattainable dream, long ago reborn to the wilderness. She was a messenger, trained and ready, and they were not. She tipped her head back, still ever running. Her limbs felt like another part of her, a more perfect part of her, carrying her to victory. Lusty freedom raced through her veins.

Marion finally stopped after she vaulted the fence at the other side of paddock she'd used as a shortcut. She turned her head to gaze back over her shoulder and leisurely slowed to a halt. Her pursuers seemed to have given up their chase. The ragged group of boys were shaking their fists at her but had already started to filter back inside the eyrie's walls. She waved to them, utterly cheeky. The wind, her faithful friend for all of its finicky ways, cared their angry swears to her. They made her smile. Mocking and challenging, she stuck her tongue out at the last of them, though he probably couldn't see. Soon enough, they were all gone, leaving her in peace with the prize she had stolen from them. Surprisingly, considering what she had done had been in the heat of the moment, she wasn't yet bored. She was coasting on exultation.

Leaning lazily against a nearby fencepost, Marion reached into her pocket and withdrew a slightly squashed but still warm pie, round and steaming. That entire chase had been for just one pie. Two, actually, she had another in her other pocket, but she didn't care. It had been worth it. She had only run; it had been their choice to chase her to try and get back their pies. "Mine;" she chuckled to herself, endlessly amused with her success, happy in the moment. With that, she took a bite out of the pie gripped delicately in her smooth palm. It was delicious, more than worth the merry little chase she'd led. In fact, it was more like an added bonus to the chase. Utterly without manners and hungry, she took another greedy bite of the pie in her hand. Her heart was still fluttering from the run, but she was well used to that sensation.

. . . big dreams but nothing material.

[maiwolf]

[/b]” He laughed, more so that he didn’t feel like a total idiot and more so that he knew he could still talk. It was hard knowing anything, truly, was real anymore. Everything was so different, and yet… and yet it wasn’t. He was still the same Gabrael, even if he had moved to the Eyrie. He still couldn’t see, and he still couldn’t contribute much.

The man walked over to the other fence, counting his steps. Either way, he was still a couple steps off, and he knew it. He reached out with his hands, wishing more than anything that Grasswhistle were with him and not at his parent’s house. Mother had needed his canine, and so he’d given her up. At least it was Mother, and not Father, even though they lived in the same house. He walked forward, his arms out, and finally found the fencepost and ducked under the fence before leaning back against the post. His sightless blue eyes stared out at nothing.

His fingers had found a piece of grass while he had been stooping to slide under the fence and now he twiddled it absentmindedly between his forefinger and thumb. His ears picked up the ruckus right before he realized what was actually going on. Out of habit, he turned his head toward the sound to quicker pick out what was happening. From what he heard, boys were cussing out a girl, and they were all running this way. No, wait, the boys had stopped, because all he heard now was the light footsteps of the girl running. Her breathing was under control and light—another way he knew ‘she’ was actually a she.

He heard her stop only a few feet from him, and he wondered if she actually realized that he was here. He blinked, and faced her by using her breathing as a focal point. The grass he flipped out of his hand, but he couldn’t hear where it dropped. “Do I smell pie?” He asked courteously, and nodded in the girl’s direction. “You know, you can have pies any time you like from the kitchen.”

He tilted his head slightly to one side, listening to her breathing, "But I'd assume you wanted the thrill of the chase more than the pie... or equally as much as the pie."[/blockquote][/ul][/size]

[Bre]

She screams for more, more than just some . . .

Marion did note the sound of grass shifting under feet, but she only looked up when someone spoke. It was a boy. Older than her, probably, by a year or two, but that hardly mattered to her. She was who she was and that was enough for her. The reasonable fitness of his frame interested her more than his age, though that did play its own role in her thoughts. Eyes nearly as quick as her feet, she sized him up. She didn't pass judgment too quickly, but she was swift in forming basic opinions of the man in front of her from how he carried himself and what he said to her. "Yeah, you do." Her voice carried none of the courteousness that he had used with her. Her voice was rough but light, sounding like the wind blowing over lilacs on riverbanks. She was particularly kin to all the sounds nature, a child with a voice as wild as her heart.

"If you think they give out pies for free, you're silly." Marion showed no fear in correcting him. She obviously had a great deal of confidence in herself, posture relaxed but head held high. No doubts lay hidden in the corners of the strong features of her oddly whimsical face. "Riders get 'em first and they smack errant brats away from them all the time." She acted as if she knew exactly what she was talking about, as if the eyrie was her home, as if she had some expert knowledge about what happened in the kitchens and messes. In her own way, she did. The world was her home. Its every aspect was part of her expertise. She had been to the rider's quaint, little kitchen a time or two before. She didn't normally cause quite such a ruckus in the estimable eyrie, but there had to be a first time for everything. Smiling cheekily, she eyed her new friend.

"Besides all of that, those boys hardly deserved to have a pie." Marion seemed to generally believe what she was saying, in a lighthearted, I-don't-actually-really-care sort of way. She took a bite of her pie, savoring the flavor with loud, self satisfying chomps. Out of a small display of manners, she did keep her mouth shut as she ate. She didn't enjoy looking like a cow chewing cud when she was consuming food. Stupid expressions didn't suit her face. It was with bored keenness that she noted that her unsought companion had quite pretty eyes. They were blue, while the rest of him was tall, dark, and handsome. A very nice combination. She approved. It wasn't quite enough to sway her to any particular way of thought, but she did approve. She just wasn't about to go agreeing with him on anything. That wasn't any fun, for her at least.

Marion took another careless bite of her quickly disappearing pie as she watched him. He was staring nearly exactly at her lips, which was a little low for her tastes. She had eyes. Some even said that they were pretty too. "Face is right here, laddy;" she told him. There was amusement in her voice, something a little flirty, as if she didn't at all care what he was actually doing. There was amusement in her eyes as well, a wild glint that perfectly match her disposition. How she behaved was not that different from who she was at even the deepest levels. He was a handsome fellow. The fun of the chase wasn't going to last her nearly long enough. "I'm Marion. Messenger extraordinaire;" she added, giving him a nod of greeting. She wore a crooked type of smile. Light of foot and light of mind, she darted forward, suddenly within just inches of him.

. . . blue eyed metaphor and the trouble is.

[maiwolf]

[/b]” He declared, forcing himself to stay calm, to stay focused. She sounded gruff, like she couldn’t believe she was talking to him. And she shuffled her feet. No, wait, that wasn’t shuffling her feet.

Gabrael instinctively took a step backward—which, for him, was parallel to the fence now, since he’d come to face her—but kept a nice smile on his face. “I’m Gabrael,” he answered, offering no extraordinary secondary service. He looked down to where he believed the ground was (it was always down, wasn’t it?), and coughed. “I’m nothing extraordinary, so I guess you could just call me Gabrael.” He looked back up, but a little away from her, so he didn’t have to try to focus on where her eyes ought to (or ought not to) be. She hadn’t spoken, but he could hear her faint breaths still, as if she were—oh wait, she was right next to him.

He smiled faintly, “If you asked nicely, the cooks’ll give you a pie whenever you want. I’ve done it plenty of times. But sometimes you get the mean cook, and she hates everyone.” He laughed then, remembering her roar as she chased him out of the kitchens, and almost into a wall. He snapped out of it, and turned toward her breathing again, “Taking a break from being a messenger, huh?” The blind man asked, standing straighter and folding his arms. “Are you delivering news about Eceph? Do you think you’ll go to the hatching?” Well, of course she’d go to the hatching. She was the messenger, for goodness sake! If she didn’t go to the hatching, then how could she deliver the message of newly hatched eggs? Well, Gabe also thought that the simourv could tell each other, and could possibly fly faster than she ran, but then even the simourv didn’t go to the smaller establishments in between the cities… well, not all the time, at least.

He sighed, “Well, you sound pretty fast,” And Gabrael realized as soon as he’d said it that he’d given some crucial information away—sound, not look—and he closed his eyes for a brief second, as if experiencing whiplash. Not that he’d ever felt whiplash. And the only time he’d been in the air was when he asked if a simourv could take him to the Eyrie. “I-I mean, oh, what’s the point. Yeah, I’m not known as anything much—besides Gabrael the blind—because I am blind.” He smiled softly, and waved his hand in front of his face. “I’ve never been able to see anything, but I guess that’s a good thing, compared to maybe getting an injury or something of the sort.” An apologetic shrug was what Gabrael offered next, along with a slightly pouting face. “But I wasn’t lying, I thought you were a dog or a cat for a moment, well, I would have if I hadn’t smelled the pies when you stopped. Dogs and cats don’t usually have that smell all over them—just near their mouths—and they’re usually not as tall as a human.” He admired people who could run, because they could see in order to run. He’d tried once, and that ended in failure. He didn’t try again.
[/blockquote][/size][/ul]

[Bre]

She checks her pulse . . .

Some of the things that Gabrael said didn't make sense to Marion. It did matter where he looked. It mattered if he looked at her eyes or her chest or even the ground. Eye contact was extremely important. Why did she sound fast? Could he hear the pounding her heart? The screaming of her lungs? The thrum of her muscles as they throbbed for every inch that they gained? Those were her sounds, the sounds that he couldn't hear even if he wanted to hear them. Despite the lack of sense that he had, she didn't bother to try puzzle out what he meant. Of course, she was also slow to reply to him, savoring the smile on his face and the way he winced when he realized some mistake that she didn't know. The only thing that gave her real pause was when he admitted that he was blind. She blinked her eyes in surprise, freezing dead in front of him.

Then a kindly but still wicked smile painted its way across Marion's features, the features that he could not see. "I am neither cat nor rat nor dog or log. I'm just me;" she drawled. The last of her first pie, the other still safely stowed in the confines of her pocket, disappeared into her mouth in one swift bite. She didn't seem bothered by his inability to see. She didn't seem nervous or uncomfortable. One change of mentality. One change of fact. Just like that, she accepted him for who he was. She didn't necessarily like him, but she wasn't about to doubt who he was as a person. She was a pestilent person, but she wasn't so rude as to presume to know who was what. "We're all who we are and, in the end, we are all something;" she mused philosophically. She had been to hell and back again. She had seen the quiet. The dark. All of that before she'd ever been a messenger. After a moment, she hurriedly brightened up, straightening. No point in being dour and boring. It was time to have fun.

"I am here delivering messages to the Phoenix, yes. A very peculiar woman. Very pretty simourv though;" Marion commented, speaking idly. She continued to talk as if she had great experience about everything. She behaved like meeting the one and only Phoenix of Pohono was normal, everyday business for her. It wasn't, in truth, but she was a grand bluffer and she had met many a great persona in her scant days. "I don't know if I'll be at the hatching. I'm stationed a ways from here;" she added, giving a sort of shrug before she realized that he probably couldn't tell when she did that. Helpfully, she leaned in closer to him, so that her face was inches from his. He was taller than she was, but she didn't care. She stood on her tiptoes with great ease, perfectly balanced as she peered into his unseeing eyes, unashamed and unabashed.

To say that Marion was shy would be the greatest lie ever told to the world. She had never been shy. Quiet, yes, when she was a child, but she had never been shy. Finally being free had made her wild, brazen, and forward. Her nose brushed against his, a smirk making it wrinkle in her amusement. "You can probably hear me better than most people can see me;" she told him, happy to be making a new friend. A cute new friend who just happened to be quite complimentary of her running abilities and also blind. That was probably the least important fact of the situation, him being blind, except that it made her utterly sure that there was no way he could out run her. He couldn't make her leave until she got bored on her own accord. Quickly, she gave him a peck on the cheek, hardly afraid of physical affection. Then she finally stepped back to a respectable distance, settling her weight on the balls of her feet. "So, you want some pie?" She pulled the second one out and offered it to him enticingly.

. . . gotta know if her heart's still beating.

[maiwolf]

[/i], on him like a dog on a freshly-caught… small something. Gabrael’s mind wasn’t working right as of now, and it had everything to do with the girl’s sudden closeness. She knew exactly what his weak spots were, and she had gone in. Gabrael’s breath caught in his throat, but the girl did nothing more but kiss him on the cheek. Then she was away. But that was much more than he had anticipated, and it took him a moment to reconcile.

First, ever since he’d come to the Eyrie, most everyone had… sorta respected his disability and kept away from him. He’d always been given some sort of leeway room. Well, either that or people played practical pranks on him and made him run into walls or tripped over something he couldn’t see, something that shouldn’t have been there but was. Usually, it was the ‘bucket over the door’ trick, and they didn’t even have to be sneaky about it, either. Over time, when he heard people snicker around him, he automatically tensed to make sure he took in every bit of his surroundings. And of course he hated it. Second, the people who did care to speak to him never violated his personal space, and almost always told him what they were going to do. Of course, there were the few people who tried to hug him without telling him and bumped into him while he stood there, intensely confused.

But here was a girl who was unafraid of getting close to him and kissing him. Get this, Gabe had never been kissed by anyone other than his parents and siblings before. The kiss was a new one, and he wasn’t about to say that he wasn’t horribly embarrassed by this strange display. He stood there, stock-still, as she moved away from him again to stand at a respectable distance. But the damage was done, and Gabrael could feel his face burning as the kiss slowly melted into him. He could hear nothing—almost nothing—over his heartbeat now, but he promised himself to keep her breath somewhere in his periphery. He knew exactly how to gauge breath, and his acute hearing could still pick up hers over his pounding drum-like heartbeat.

When he finally got his breathing under control, he shook his head. He tried for a smooth smile, but he knew that, without a doubt, it was jerky and looked anything but how he’d wanted it to be. She had just killed him, unwittingly, and it would take a minute or two to reboot himself to his previous (but not-so-glorious) glory. “No, no pie thank you.” She could keep her pie, she deserved it. That and he wouldn’t have been able to hold it steady if he tried. His cool demeanor was, of course, shattered. Another smile, this time, thankfully, less jerky as it had been before. “I think you should keep the pie you earned.” At least his voice was calm again; all he’d had to do was swallow a couple times and breath for a moment. Just breathe.

But the smell of pie certainly was appetizing. His mouth watered and he swallowed back the spit, but somehow, somehow his cool was returning to him. He reached blindly (of course) to where the railing should be, though he was all disoriented and was confused as to where everything was. Finally, his searching hand found the railing and he pulled himself closer so he could lean on it. The post was refreshingly stable, and he blinked blindly at her. He was staring at her mouth again, though he knew that only because he had been moving as she asked about the pie. She was a very strange person, and, despite what she’d done to him, he sorta liked that about her. She was spunky, or something, but at least she spoke to him, and… well, disrespected his boundaries. In a good way, of course, since he had no choice but to like her. She could easily outrun him here, because he was out of the actual Eyrie and knew almost nothing about the outside. He blinked, “So, uh, do you always greet people like that?” He asked, his blue eyes flashing as he joked, “Or is it just the blind ones?”
[/ul][/blockquote][/size]

[Bre]

I'm not vulnerable . . .

Aw, how cute! Gabrael was blushing. Marion hadn't quite expected that to happen. He'd seemed so calm and collected. While part of her was concerned that he might be upset or something, she was mostly glad to get a rise out of him. Making people react was fun for her. When she did it intentionally, anyway, it was fun. The expression on his face was priceless too. It was just a peck on the cheek! If he was going to take it the wrong way, then she might be concerned, though she wasn't exactly sure what the wrong way exactly was. She was not an innocent little flower, stupid to the ways of the world that surrounded her. In fact, it seemed far more likely that she might inadvertently take advantage of him. She knew better than that. In her own way, she would play nice. Keep an eye on him. He was going to be her new best friend in the eyrie.

When he declined her offer of pie, Marion gave a shrug. "Suit yourself;" she drawled before she took a big bite of the pie, happily chewing away at it. When she was hungry, she could eat half a horse if allowed. Still, she could go for days without food as well. When the opportunity presented itself, she was more than happy to take it, but she wasn't finicky. She had more than enough manners to offer to share. Of course, the pie was hers. He was right in saying that she deserved it, so she dug into it with gusto and pleasure. Each of her chomps had a little more force to it than before though. She knew that he could hear her and that was the point. Her breathing, normally controlled, had increased. It was the tiny things she was doing for him, the sound of her feet softly brushing against the ground and the rustling of her thick clothing.

At his joking words, Marion grinned. "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I've never met a blind person, so I don't think that factors into it too much;" she chuckled. She was being honest, but she said it playfully. Honesty came easily to her. The truth was much harder for her to find. It was better to just have fun. "Depends on how I'm feeling, how well I know you, and how I feel about you. For instance, I'm in a good mood right now, I barely know you, and I like you. The second two may seem a little strange, but, hey, you're a good kid, eh, eh?" She gave him a light poke in the side, trying to get him to more properly laugh. She still had no problem with invading his personal space bubble. She was rough and tumble girl, a highly physical person, seeking out the human contact that she desperately craved somewhere deep within her.

"So, you sure that you don't want some pie?" Marion broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth, once again offering the pie to him. Only half of it remained by that point, but it still steamed enticingly, sweet and tempting. She had found the boys nice and early, grabbing the pies while they were still fresh. Wouldn't have been much point to the chase otherwise, right? If she wanted cold pies, she could have fought them for it. Four boys probably should have been able to beat her, but they were spoiled rotten compared to her and she was half crazed. She was simply rotten naturally. In the best possible way, of course. The most charming way. She was proud to be a thief of pies. There wasn't a better thing to steal than pies. Perhaps jewels, but what use did she have for jewels? She didn't wear much jewelry. She preferred to be natural looking.

"Or perhaps you want another kiss?" Marion whispered, leaning in close again. She was quick, ridiculously so, even when she was moving more than her feet. She had moved before she'd even really thought out what she was doing. Her face was an inch from his. She could have licked his nose if she wanted. Thankfully, maybe sadly, she refrained. All throughout, her breathing remained even and careful, controlled from years of training and running, only as quick as she had made it before. There was a wicked gleam in her eye, but he couldn't see there. Still, there was something wicked in the way she breathed too. There was mischievousness written into how she moved. She was tempted to just kiss his cheek again, regardless of what he wanted. It had been cute to watch him flush. It was fun to torture him, her motives reputable.

All of a sudden, Marion noticed the position of the sun in the sky when it slipped another degree lower. It wasn't the most accurate way to tell time, but it worked for her. She quickly stepped back from him, stretching languidly and sighing. She'd been enjoying herself but duty called. "Shoot, I have to go. I have messages to return to Sayaie;" she told him, sounding genuinely mournful about their parting. "I'm sure I'll see you around though, Gabe;" she drawled, a lopsided grin on her face and all of her amusement in her voice. With that, she was gone, leaving only the sound of her footsteps. Actually, there was one other thing that she had left. At the last second, she had pressed the remnants of her second pie into his hands. She didn't have any need for it where she was going, off across the canyon and far down the road.

. . . hey lady, don't give up on me.

[maiwolf]

[/i] bite she took, and he betted that she wanted him to feel bad that he’d said no about her pie. He still didn’t really want the pie, but since she’d asked again, he was beginning to have second doubts. When people asked again and again, he realized that they were hinting something, and boy was this messenger hinting. He was about to answer yes, maybe a small piece, and even had his mouth open to say that, when Marion asked if what he really wanted was another kiss. She had leaned in again, so close Gabrael felt her breath on his face. Instantly, his mouth clamped shut, and he had to force himself to stay where he was.

But it was like she had instantly caught something different, like a different touch of air, or maybe it was something she could see that he, obviously, couldn’t. She stepped back from him quicker than he’d felt her move before, besides, of course, running from the guys. Everything after that had been done with purpose. This was not nearly as purposeful and in fact, it sort of didn’t fit her. Well, it didn’t fit what Gabrael thought was her. She told him she had to go, and then called him ‘Gabe.’ That surprised him, but not nearly as much as her hands suddenly on his, and then the pie almost as suddenly thrust into his hands. Gabrael blinked, but he could hear her footsteps hurrying away.

Then he blindly found the fence post and leaned against it again, as he had before, and took a bite of the pie. He hummed appreciatively. No wonder why the messenger had stolen the pie, his slavering mouth eagerly tore into it. Hmmm, what a strange girl. He didn’t know what he thought of her, but he certainly hoped that what she had said was true: he certainly hoped he’d see her again sometime soon.[/ul][/blockquote][/size]