Post by Christian Monroe on Mar 10, 2009 4:11:30 GMT -5
Christian winced as he stumbled toward where the others were regrouping, clenched teeth barely holding back the agony throbbing through his whole body. He was bleeding from more places than he could count. It was probably sheer stubbornness that had kept him from passing out yet.
As soon as Clara saw him--covered in blood, one arm slashed wide open and hanging uselessly and the other hand speared completely through--she rolled her eyes slightly and sighed. "Get yourself healed up and stop being stoic, or I'll burn you again," was her stern assessment.
Christian just grunted a little, ignoring the others' stunned, faintly horrified stares and limped his way toward Omega. The tall girl eyed him a moment before reaching out and delivering a smack to the back of his head. The lion-like teen grunted a little, growling.
"What the hell?" he snapped somewhat testily.
Of course, Omega didn't reply, couldn't reply. She just rolled her eyes as well before putting a hand to his chest. Christian grimaced as he felt the wounds striping his torso begin to close and knit back together--a rather odd, somewhat unsettling sensation. Omega closed over the worst of his wounds--repaired the damage to his right arm and closed the gaping wound in his left hand. Most of the less-serious cuts across his chest and belly she couldn't afford to fix. At least not right now.
She was breathing heavily by the end, a faintly clammy sweat having broken out across her face. Christian reached out on reflex to steady her when she stumbled a bit. Both stoic teens seemed rather flustered by that, Christian letting her go again almost immediately and her quickly stepping back.
"Thanks," he managed in a gruff growl. Omega merely nodded silently before turning back toward the others. Christian rolled his shoulders a bit, wincing at the continued discomfort in his muscles before following suit.
They had accomplished their objective, with very few casualties and even fewer injuries, thanks to Omega. The only downside to the whole mission had been the crew of the Plunder's surprise appearance. Christian found his gaze drifting somewhat toward Cassiopeia, who was standing firm and blank-faced once again, seemingly ignoring the tear-tracks that were drying on her face. He winced a little, shaking his head slightly.
It was only a matter of time before that girl shattered completely under the strain. Clara's hold on her wasn't going to be able to keep holding her together. Christian did his best to convince himself that that was none of his business, however, trying to put it from his mind.
A little bit later and Gloria was teleporting them back to their 'home base.' Christian's nose twitched curiously at the heavy scent of arousal that was clinging to the Hispanic girl's skin, though yet again he told himself it wasn't any of his business.
The mage retreated to his room long enough to shower, removing the dried and matted blood from his fur and bandaging the worst of the cuts he still had before dressing again. And then he was stepping down into the basement to resume his post with the prisoner.
Christian stepped into the room and surreptitiously took in a deep lungful through his nose. Chasing away the stink of blood and death from his brain with sweet cinnamon and warm female.
Isabella turned to him when he entered, and immediately her brown eyes went wide and stricken. "Oh my God, are you alright?" she breathed in a stunned hiss. "What happened to you?"
Christian blinked at her for a minute, somewhat unprepared for her obvious concern. She shouldn't care about what happened to him. She shouldn't care if he was hurt, either. The fact that it seemed she did only served to unsettle him greatly. He shrugged negligently, hunkering down in his usual spot and trying to ignore the stinging discomfort in his chest and belly. "Little run in with a Snake," was all he said, tone it's usual gruff growl. "No big deal."
Isabella just eyed him silently for a minute, and then, "were you saying it was no big deal before or after the mute girl healed those nasty marks on your wrist and hand?"
If anyone else bugged him this much, he'd probably get pissed and snarl at them to shut up and leave him alone. So why did her nattering make him want to smile? As it was he smirked a little, his eyes cutting in her direction for a brief instant as he returned, "before Omega healed me up I wasn't saying much of anything. If I'd have unclenched my teeth I'd have probably passed out."
And then he blinked a little afterward, realizing he'd just made a joke. Sort of. The lion-like teen immediately frowned at himself, turning away again. This wasn't good. Not at all.
"Well sit,"she suddenly insisted, still looking worried and sounding it too. "On a chair or on the floor. You don't need to be ready to pounce with me. What am I going to do, lecture you?"
Christian just shifted a little on his feet in the crouch he was in near the door, absently flexing the muscles in his legs. "I'll be just fine," he growled low. "Trust me, I've been trained to withstand a lot worse than this," was his somewhat deadpan reply.
She wasn't intimidated in the slightest. Instead she gave him a stern look, brown eyes flashing. "Sit."
Christian eyed her, caught half-way between disbelieving humor and annoyed affront. "I don't think you're in any position to be snapping out orders here, missy," he pointed out.
At that her eyes darkened a little, a flash of sadness chasing across her face before she turned away slightly. A faint pout pulling at her lips. And Christian suddenly felt as if he'd just punted Roger across the rec room. He withstood that uncomfortable sensation--and the unhappy look on her face--for all of about a minute before he suddenly dropped back onto his rear with a loud sigh. He balanced one arm across his drawn up knee and gave her a petulant glare.
"There. Happy now?"
She wouldn't look back at him, just sighed a little and continued to stare at the wall of her cell. "About as happy as I'm going to be, locked down here."
Christian turned away then as well, going silent once again, expression moody. She was a prisoner. He was her keeper. He had to remember that very important fact. To do anything else was courting a danger he wanted no part in.
And he wanted no part of the guaranteed pain he'd suffer as a result of entertaining the foolish notion of what his groin or his heart region kept trying to convince him about the girl on the other side of those bars.
As soon as Clara saw him--covered in blood, one arm slashed wide open and hanging uselessly and the other hand speared completely through--she rolled her eyes slightly and sighed. "Get yourself healed up and stop being stoic, or I'll burn you again," was her stern assessment.
Christian just grunted a little, ignoring the others' stunned, faintly horrified stares and limped his way toward Omega. The tall girl eyed him a moment before reaching out and delivering a smack to the back of his head. The lion-like teen grunted a little, growling.
"What the hell?" he snapped somewhat testily.
Of course, Omega didn't reply, couldn't reply. She just rolled her eyes as well before putting a hand to his chest. Christian grimaced as he felt the wounds striping his torso begin to close and knit back together--a rather odd, somewhat unsettling sensation. Omega closed over the worst of his wounds--repaired the damage to his right arm and closed the gaping wound in his left hand. Most of the less-serious cuts across his chest and belly she couldn't afford to fix. At least not right now.
She was breathing heavily by the end, a faintly clammy sweat having broken out across her face. Christian reached out on reflex to steady her when she stumbled a bit. Both stoic teens seemed rather flustered by that, Christian letting her go again almost immediately and her quickly stepping back.
"Thanks," he managed in a gruff growl. Omega merely nodded silently before turning back toward the others. Christian rolled his shoulders a bit, wincing at the continued discomfort in his muscles before following suit.
They had accomplished their objective, with very few casualties and even fewer injuries, thanks to Omega. The only downside to the whole mission had been the crew of the Plunder's surprise appearance. Christian found his gaze drifting somewhat toward Cassiopeia, who was standing firm and blank-faced once again, seemingly ignoring the tear-tracks that were drying on her face. He winced a little, shaking his head slightly.
It was only a matter of time before that girl shattered completely under the strain. Clara's hold on her wasn't going to be able to keep holding her together. Christian did his best to convince himself that that was none of his business, however, trying to put it from his mind.
A little bit later and Gloria was teleporting them back to their 'home base.' Christian's nose twitched curiously at the heavy scent of arousal that was clinging to the Hispanic girl's skin, though yet again he told himself it wasn't any of his business.
The mage retreated to his room long enough to shower, removing the dried and matted blood from his fur and bandaging the worst of the cuts he still had before dressing again. And then he was stepping down into the basement to resume his post with the prisoner.
Christian stepped into the room and surreptitiously took in a deep lungful through his nose. Chasing away the stink of blood and death from his brain with sweet cinnamon and warm female.
Isabella turned to him when he entered, and immediately her brown eyes went wide and stricken. "Oh my God, are you alright?" she breathed in a stunned hiss. "What happened to you?"
Christian blinked at her for a minute, somewhat unprepared for her obvious concern. She shouldn't care about what happened to him. She shouldn't care if he was hurt, either. The fact that it seemed she did only served to unsettle him greatly. He shrugged negligently, hunkering down in his usual spot and trying to ignore the stinging discomfort in his chest and belly. "Little run in with a Snake," was all he said, tone it's usual gruff growl. "No big deal."
Isabella just eyed him silently for a minute, and then, "were you saying it was no big deal before or after the mute girl healed those nasty marks on your wrist and hand?"
If anyone else bugged him this much, he'd probably get pissed and snarl at them to shut up and leave him alone. So why did her nattering make him want to smile? As it was he smirked a little, his eyes cutting in her direction for a brief instant as he returned, "before Omega healed me up I wasn't saying much of anything. If I'd have unclenched my teeth I'd have probably passed out."
And then he blinked a little afterward, realizing he'd just made a joke. Sort of. The lion-like teen immediately frowned at himself, turning away again. This wasn't good. Not at all.
"Well sit,"she suddenly insisted, still looking worried and sounding it too. "On a chair or on the floor. You don't need to be ready to pounce with me. What am I going to do, lecture you?"
Christian just shifted a little on his feet in the crouch he was in near the door, absently flexing the muscles in his legs. "I'll be just fine," he growled low. "Trust me, I've been trained to withstand a lot worse than this," was his somewhat deadpan reply.
She wasn't intimidated in the slightest. Instead she gave him a stern look, brown eyes flashing. "Sit."
Christian eyed her, caught half-way between disbelieving humor and annoyed affront. "I don't think you're in any position to be snapping out orders here, missy," he pointed out.
At that her eyes darkened a little, a flash of sadness chasing across her face before she turned away slightly. A faint pout pulling at her lips. And Christian suddenly felt as if he'd just punted Roger across the rec room. He withstood that uncomfortable sensation--and the unhappy look on her face--for all of about a minute before he suddenly dropped back onto his rear with a loud sigh. He balanced one arm across his drawn up knee and gave her a petulant glare.
"There. Happy now?"
She wouldn't look back at him, just sighed a little and continued to stare at the wall of her cell. "About as happy as I'm going to be, locked down here."
Christian turned away then as well, going silent once again, expression moody. She was a prisoner. He was her keeper. He had to remember that very important fact. To do anything else was courting a danger he wanted no part in.
And he wanted no part of the guaranteed pain he'd suffer as a result of entertaining the foolish notion of what his groin or his heart region kept trying to convince him about the girl on the other side of those bars.