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Post by Vaughn Logan on Aug 18, 2012 5:40:51 GMT -5
Vaughn pulled up into the driveway, Trisha still unconscious and naked, save for Vaughns trench coat and hat, almost fell off the motorcycle and the purring of the engine came to a halt inside of the garage.
The garage was mainly filthy. It looked no better than his office in the Compound. Along the workbenches were equipment he had been testing and adjusting to fit his needs. It was a two car garage with a lot of room. But considering he had his Jeep parked on one side, and the body of a '72 Chevelle on the other, and his bike in the middle, there wasn't much room save for some walking space towards the front.
Tires, car parts, an engine, and other misc. man cave items roam about the garage in an unorganized fashion. Vaughn needed a woman in his life.
Slowly and steadily he moved Trisha off of the bike. He lost his balance when carrying her, and her head almost collided into the side of his Jeep door. With his elbow he tapped the garage door button, and it slowly begun to close. He managed to hold Trisha for a moment up against the door and with one arm. With the other he reached for the doorknob and opened it slowly, trying to keep Trisha from falling.
He had Trisha up against the door, with her legs slightly draping around his body. It was an awkward position and he was glad no one was watching to save the embarrassment of trying to explain himself. The door all of a sudden opened faster than expected, and Trishas body flopped backward towards the hard wood floor. He reached quickly and caught her mid-fall. The trench coat flapped open to reveal her naked body. For a moment he caught himself staring. He let out a deep breath as her head was near inches from slamming against the ground. Perhaps she was better off laying in the middle of the road.
He threw the trench coat off of her and onto the couch, and with both arms carried her past the living room and down the hall. The house was one bedroom and one bathroom. It was a perfect bachelor house for himself and he couldn't complain. With becoming the new Commander he found himself too bothered to spend much time at home, but he was okay with it. As much as he enjoyed being home, he took pride in being the Commander. But it was a constant juggle. During the week he taught three classes that spanned from morning to afternoon, and then straight after he would make his way to the Compound, change, and be debriefed by either the Lt., Hobbs, or anyone else who was on rotation that night.
He let out a thankful deep breath of air when he noticed his bedroom door was open. He lay her on his bed and put his hands on his hips, looking at her. Vaughn felt again for a pulse and still felt one, it was faint. Good, he hadn't killed her yet. Opening his closet he found a college tshirt and pulled it off the hangar quickly. Vaughn walked to the woman's side and kneeled down. Carefully he put the shirt on her. At least now she was clothed and her breasts and crotch were no longer showing.
Vaughn felt her forehead to check for a fever, luckily she was of normal temperature. He lifted her legs upwars, and pulled his soft sheets and feather fluffed comforter over her.
After scratching at his beard he started to head out of the room. He turned one last time before completely leaving and headed down the white hallway. His house was newer than most in the area. It had to be no more than a few years old, and an added extension due to the vast number of residents in the city.
Vaughn walked into his kitchen and started to make himself some coffee. He made a big batch just in case the woman would want some upon waking up. Vaughn still didn't know her name. But perhaps now she would trust him and not be so ready to go beast-mode on him again. He made his way into the living room, passed his La-Z boy black leather chair, and his leather couch towards the back glass door. In fact the whole wall was made of thick glass. Spanning across it was a large curtain. He took a sip of his coffee and with his free hand he puled the curtain upwards and looked outside. A few trees stood gracefully, as well as a bedding of flowers. He would be surprised they were not dead, but a community gardener get paid by the landlord to maintain the flowers and agriculture. Vaughn couldn't remember the name off of the top of his head, but his accent was so thick he had mistaken many simple things such as "Can I trim your rose bush?" to something more sexual that he didn't even want to fathom about again.
He turned away from the window and the curtain flailed its way back into it's resting place. Vaughn took a second to look at the magazines that had accumulated on his desk. Vaughn sat in his chair and shifted through the magazines. Underneath them all was a wanted list from the Compound--A wanted list the old Commander had made. Sadly the old Commander had scratched out the names, but the faces still remained with a symbol next to them. What caught his interest was one woman, a fair-skinned, beautiful woman with a paw-print besides her picture. She was near the top of the list.
Vaughn let out a sight and heaved himself up off of his chair with difficulty. His weary bones and tense muscles had grown accustomed to the welcoming furniture. For a few seconds Vaughn could feel his buttox tense up as if it were demanding to be placed back into his chair. Vaughn stumbled over to his fireplace and shoved the wanted list into the waste bin filled with old magazines and newspapers. He figured he would use it as fuel for a fire later.
Without hesitation he painfully but not regrettably walked back to his chair and plopped down hard. He grabbed his coffee mug from the coffee table and reclined his chair backwards, letting out a long sigh from a hard days work. He took a sip of his coffee and tried to relax. Although relaxing was a lot easier said than done.
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Words: 1095
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Post by Trisha Morello on Sept 4, 2012 2:07:49 GMT -5
Her entire body ached. It hurt so bad that she woke up screaming in agony. She jolted up, the comforter falling to her lap. She convulsed as pain wrecked her body. Her eyes began to water and she lifted her shirt with shaking hands. She looked down at her skin as she saw silver bullets being pushed from her skin. She saw her skin burn and smoke as the lethal allergies made it difficult for her body to fight back. She groaned and growled as she watched the bullets slowly fall from her skin, the entry wounds closing in a slow, agonizing fashion. The bullets landed on the comforter and she snapped the sheets, catapulting the bullets away from her and onto the floor.
She had been so busy with the pain and discomfort, the agony in her bones, that she hadn't even thought about her surroundings. Her body still protested, but she was able to focus her eyes around her. It was a bedroom she didn't recognize. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was yelling at a hunter to go away and leave her alone - a boiling rage and then an awful pain. She could piece it together from there. She had morphed, but she didn't know what happened during or after. How she morphed back - if anyone saw... if she ended up killing that man. She couldn't imagine having someone's blood on her hands. She's never killed... yet. She doesn't want to. Death was so final. Too final.
Trisha made a motion to move, to swing her legs off the bed, but the movement hurt and she cringed, realizing that she couldn't move so suddenly just yet. But she didn't want to stay here - in a place she'd never seen before. She sniffed the air and smelled a human.
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Post by Vaughn Logan on Sept 6, 2012 14:52:26 GMT -5
He'd dozed off to sleep on his La-Z boy couch while reading a book. The fire in the fireplace dyed out on it's own, and all was peaceful and quiet. Vaughn was excited to get a few hours of rest without being disturbed, for once. But that dream was short lived. The sounds of screams and bloody murder rang in his ears. He looked around with his mouth dangling, some drool landing on his lap and searched the house with heavy eyes. As he got up and ran towards the sound he stumbled and fell, landing on his face with a loud crash.
"Dammit" he said, as he woke up fully and looked around his room. Grabbing onto a counter he helped lift himself up and storm down the hallway. The screaming only seem to intensify and then all of a sudden die as soon as he made his way into his bedroom. The woman was now upright, and he saw the silver bullets that penetrated her earlier be thrown against the wall. Vaughn took in a deep breath and grabbed his aching head.
Rubbing the dust from his eyes he walked closer to the bed and looked down at the woman. "Everything okay?" He said in a raspy, sleepy tone. "By the way you were screaming it sounded like you were dying."
He looked her over and cocked his head, she LOOKED DIFFERENT TO HIM, or so he thought. ((OOC: PB CHANGE?!))
"Look, you need anything? I suggest you get some sleep."
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Words: 255
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Post by Trisha Morello on Sept 6, 2012 16:34:50 GMT -5
(Hehe... -will probably change again-)
Trisha was in a cold sweat, and her and her hands were shaking. The pain had been unbelievable. If the man had only taken the bullets out himself, she probably would have slept throughout the night. Instead, she was forced awake by the immense pain as her body was forced to push out the toxins that wrecked her body. Trisha ran her shaking hand through her hair as she took in a deep, unsteady breath.
She heard footsteps and she snapped her head up to see the face of the man who had shot her. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as he neared her and she felt her hands clench into fists. His words almost fell on deaf ears as her hands shot upward, grabbing at his collar and yanking him closer to her. Her eyes were ablaze with anger as she stared at him deadly.
"If you were going to keep me alive, you could have at least taken the damn bullets out, fuck-face," she grumbled angrily. Her fingers curled tighter around the material of his shirt as she tried to control herself, keep herself from beating the living hell out of him. She shoved him back harshly, not trusting herself not to tear his face off. "Why the hell did you bring me here?" she growled, not looking at him but allowing her eyes to dart suspiciously around the room.
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Post by Vaughn Logan on Sept 7, 2012 0:20:54 GMT -5
He jolted back and looked at her a bit angrily and frustrated. Had it not been for her screams he would still be relaxed in his chair. Although he was to blame for the way she reacted. He couldn't imagine the pain she felt as the bullets came out of her. Honestly he didn't want to.
Vaughn resisted making a smartass comment or saying something negative to her. She wasn't the first person to call him fuck-face, and she was for sure not the last. Vaughn narrowed his gaze on her and looked her from head to toe. She was still nude, save for his large college tshirt that hung off of her loosely.
"Look, Im sorry. There wasn't much I could do. I brought you here because I felt responsible for you turning. Call me any names you want. Without me you'd still be laying naked on the streets. If you want to leave than...well, go. I won't stop you."
After speaking in a serious manner he walked out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. With the flip of a switch he activated his coffee pot and started making himself something to wake his ass up. Outside it was still dark. How many hours of sleep did he get?
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Words: 217
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Post by Trisha Morello on Sept 7, 2012 1:20:55 GMT -5
He glared at her and she only returned it tenfold. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him carefully. He brought her to his place and she couldn't quite figure out his purpose. Was it to trick her into feeling secure so he could easily end her life? But if that was the case, wouldn't it have been easy to kill her while she was passed out and already close to dying? Why wait until her body forced out the poison and she was beginning to gain her strength? So what exactly did he want? A friend? A quick thank-you fuck?
He looked at her from head to toe and she noticed that she had been put into a clean shirt. It hung on her loosely and being as short as she was, it probably came down to her thighs. He told her she could leave if she wanted to before huffing and leaving the room like a rotten child. Trisha clicked her teeth and rolled her eyes.
"Asshole," she grumbled to herself. Trisha took in a deep breath before she pushed the covers off her body. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed slowly, cringing as she did so. Her entire body yelled at her to stay still, to remain in bed. She groaned softly as she forced herself to her feet, her muscles tightening and almost refusing to move. She lifted her shirt again to see the remainder of her injuries. Because it was silver, her body was taking longer to heal. The wounds were closing, but she would have preferred it if they had already been healed.
Trisha took a deep breath, dropping the shirt and walking, with some difficulty, out of the room. She saw him standing by his counter and her eyes shifted to the coffee maker before looking back at him.
"Why bother keeping me alive?" she asked stiffly, her eyes narrowing in distrust. "You saw the monster I am. Wouldn't you just want to kill me?" Her lips tensed involuntarily.
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Post by Vaughn Logan on Sept 7, 2012 2:53:05 GMT -5
Vaughn leaned on the counter, his head rested on his arms as he watched the coffee slowly filling the coffee pot. It was a relieving sight; one that he welcomed with open arms. He could nearly taste the sweetness that would soon come. He heard her bare feet walking down his hallway but didn't bother to look. He figured she was either leaving or seeing what he was up to. Either way he didn't mind. He opened up his cupboard and pulled out a mug for himself even though the coffee still had some time before it was ready.
"Why wouldn't I keep you alive? I'm a Hunter--I'm not heartless." He walked around her toward the fireplace. He grabbed the metal poker rod and shoved it into the fireplace, seeing if there were any traces left of a fire. Sure enough there was. With some movements of the poker (and some lighter-fluid) the fire was up and crackling away as it tore through a log Vaughn threw in there.
"It's not your fault you are the way you are. You can't control what you have. It's not my place to kill you. Besides, as far as I know you haven't harmed anyone."
Vaughn marched back over towards the coffee pot, looking it over carefully. Finally, the coffee was ready. "So, you thinking about leaving or would you like some coffee?" He said as he grabbed the coffee creamer from the fridge and looked over at her.
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Words: 252
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Post by Trisha Morello on Sept 9, 2012 18:07:05 GMT -5
His words were difficult to process. A hunter... not heartless. She just associated hunters with heartlessness. Consciously killing seemed pretty heartless to her. If she killed anything, and she shivered at the very idea, she didn't know it. She wasn't aware of herself, but when a hunter pulled the trigger, they were aware of what their body was doing. Perhaps she was making excuses for both herself and her hatred.
Her eyes followed him as he walked around her and into the other room, poking the fire to make it come alive again. She felt awkward. Out of place. She felt like she didn't belong, but he wasn't kicking her out, which surprised her. He kept her alive. And now he was letting her stand around, being useless.
He reassured her that he had no right to kill her, and then he mentioned her killing someone. Trisha didn't know if she had. She prayed that she never killed anyone. The mere idea made her stomach churn. She couldn't remember anything during her transformations. She assumed it had something to do with the pain of transforming. It was just a hunch. She had no solid evidence for it. So she chose not to answer him, even though it wasn't a question to begin with.
He asked her if she wanted to stay for coffee and she was about to say no, but then the smell of the coffee hit her nose. It was overwhelmingly delicious.
"Uh, yeah, I'll... have a cup," she answered simply, feeling so uncertain and awkward in her position.
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Post by Vaughn Logan on Sept 17, 2012 2:23:07 GMT -5
Vaughn peered down at the coffee-maker as it gave out a quick 'DING" sound letting him know the contents were promptly made. Pouring the coffee slowly into a mug he handed it to her and begun to pour his own.
"So now it's the matter of getting you some proper clothes. Is there someplace I can drive you or drop you off? I wouldn't feel right letting you walk down the street on your own with nothing but a half-covered t-shirt."
Vaughn noticed that since she was now standing the shirt went up higher on her than he thought it would originally. It still hung loosely on her and was baggy, but more was showing than he originally intended. He set his mug down and opened up the fridge, pulling out a bottle of coffee creamer. "Want some?" He said as he shook the bottle around quickly. The creamy swishing immediately caught his attention and sped up the process of him pouring some into his mug and stirring it around with a tiny spoon. The thought of him even having the spoon brought a faint smirk to his face. He's had the spoon since he was a baby and his father thought it would be appropriate if he had it. Regrettably his father gave him the spoon right before he entered college. That made things with his roommate a bit awkward.
"The living room should be pretty warm if you want to sit over by the fire."
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Words: 250
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Post by Trisha Morello on Sept 18, 2012 16:05:23 GMT -5
There seemed to be an awkward silence that hung over them for a few moments as they both waited for the coffee to finish. With her arms to her side, one hand went to the bottom of the shirt and tugged at it nervously. She didn't like these awkward moments, these moments of silence. She didn't belong and she knew that. It only made it worse since he opened his home to her, clothed her and put her to bed while her body healed itself. It just didn't feel right to her. When he handed her the coffee, Trisha took it, glad that there was at least some movement in the interaction. She looked down at the mug and saw the dark brown contents steam. The smell wafted to her sensitive nose and it almost made her sigh in contentedness.
He offered her the creamer and she shook her head no. She preferred her coffee black and bitter, harsh to the tongue but abrupt in its reaction. She took a sip only to have the hot contents scold her tongue. She winced slightly before blowing over the rim. She just wanted to finish the coffee and be out of there.
"Just give me a pair of boxers and I'll be fine," she finally said, her tone hinting to her discomfort at the awkward situation. If there was one thing Trisha really didn't care about - it was her appearance. The fact that her upper thighs were revealed didn't phase her. She'd undressed in front of complete strangers before. Her body held no special treatment from her. She looked up at him, her eye's harsh for a moment. "I could just kill you now, you know," she said lowly, still so unsure of him.
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