Let's live it up! (Damien/Genie)

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

What a nice day it was, everything was so calm and enjoyable. The wind from the pacific crossed through the area and left an impression in the grass from it's movements. The ground and sights were something to behold in the soft California heat. That and the Pacific breeze made it such a perfect, perfect day for something fun outside.
The grass felt soft under him, a gentle cushion under the California sun. Something new was today for sure, and he felt it. It was one of those free days where the world is the limit and life seems so carefree that nothing could break that moment ever.
It was truly a sight to feel.
Damien could feel the world around him rise and wane like the tides of the far off shore. His hair flowed behind him and a journal was perched in his fingers. Inspiration was at random times in life and you never knew when it would hit. Damien could only know that his world would change very soon.
He was in the usual. Damien had a black Armani suit and tie placed on and a pair of dark shades. One would remark he looked like a killer, others that he looked killer.
So was the world of Damien, the king. The master. He, the Satan in a suit.
For the world when one no longer knew the world itself was one of literature and light. Damien no longer understood this world of multiple people and multiple lives, and Damien felt it. The world was changing but how?

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

It was a nice day out, like the nice days they showed in the movies - the kind they probably had to delay shooting to get. The weather was perfect, almost. Suspiciously so. Genie wasn't fool enough to curse all the pleasant days she got, but she couldn't help but feel that maybe the clemency of the weather was to make up for something or other. Because of course, someone like Genie simply couldn't take anything, no matter how mundane, for granted.

Her hair was reasonably tame today, and so she had spent as little time on it as possible, simply yanking it into a messy ponytail, from which dangled several locks that she had missed. Not that it mattered. As long as the offending hair was out of her face. Genie curled a lock of hair in her bony fingers as she walked, contemplating its current length. She's kept it rather short as a young child, sawing it off occasionally when it got in the way, but she'd found that Mrs. Wakely took such joy in combing Genie's hair, and so the girl feared that cutting it off would make the woman turn into the homicidal demon that she probably secretly was. Maureen Wakely snipped flowers and tied them up with pretty satin bows four days a week, but even so, Genie was still highly doubtful of the woman's hospitality. So for the moment, she would keep her hair long.

She was trudging through the grounds, the squeaky black shoes on her feet stiff and unfamiliar. Genie could only recall slippers or flimsy sandals in her childhood - winters were never particularly harsh in Louisiana - and so the grossly expensive shoes had her itching to be out of them. Finally, Genie couldn't take it anymore and stopped short, bending down to remove the offending objects, as well as her socks. Genie stood there for a moment, in the middle of the path, wiggling her toes in the sweet California air. She took a step. Not painful at all. And so, socks and shoes dangling from her grip, Genie continued on her way, barefooted.

It wasn't long before she came across a strange sight; Damien, sitting in the grass, wearing noticeably expensive clothing, obviously absorbed by something (the book-like object in his lap, perhaps?) Genie stopped, one foot just ready to come down on the path again. But she held it there, maintaining her balance. Whatever was he doing? Didn't he know that he was in an entirely exposed position, and visibly not paying attention? She had thought Damien smarter than that. Oh well. Wasn't it her job to set him straight? Wearing obviously pricey clothing as he was, didn't he realize that it was a huge possibility that he would be mugged? Not by her, of course. Anything like that, and she'd be put out on the streets for sure.

Genie strode right up to Damien, feeling rather irritated. The bottoms of her feet were black from walking on the path, but she didn't care. Genie simply took her sock and whipped it across the Damien's head. "Watcha doin', Damien? Asking t'get killed? Genie's mouth twisted wryly. The older boy probably wouldn't like her being so forward, but then, she supposed he'd just have to get used to it.

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; five four eight[/size][/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

What a glorious day it was indeed. The cold breeze shook him up a little at times, but it was peaceful. Damien at points would jot some quick words down and smile cheerfully as if some fortune was just blessed onto him. It was just a pleasant day it made him wonder why he just didn't die watching the sky. Just simply die in a pretty scene.
No! He couldn't. Damien had a reason to live, and something else not known to him exactly. All Damien knew was that there was some sort of point to this at the end.
What he truly didn't know but...something.
Damien then felt something sweaty hit his face. He knew that smell. It was a waft of dirt, perfumes, and cheap lotion that surrounded a certain young girl. A girl that every time he saw her made him think he was damn sure going to hell.
"Hey Genie, I'm just writing. You know me by now. I always wear a suit. If someone tries to mug me, they're asking to die." Damien answered without looking away from the page. Damien's voice was calm with a New York accent and extremely emotionless and nonchalant.
"So what is up with you? Tired of the world of socks already?" Damien finally asked with a small smile on his lips, looking up at her. Sweet little thing, so feisty and honest. He didn't honestly care how blunt she was or anything. Genie was something special. She was like him. They were fighters and they had to stick together.
"Socks are normally nice. You should get along with it."

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

Genie let a tiny smirk cross her face at Damien's first words. He was a generally scary guy, and definitely looked big enough to beat most people into a bloody pulp - and if that didn't work, have them beaten up later - but still. Nobody was perfectly consistent. Genie leaned down and smacked him over the head, plucking her sock from his lap with her other hand as she did so. "Talk like that, and you're askin' to die." Damien could be so cocky sometimes. Well. A year with her and that probably would have changed. She'd probably need to do something big to take that ego of his down a notch or two, but Genie supposed he'd only end up appreciating such a favor.

"If you must know," she began, dropping herself down on the grass - her shoes and socks she tossed off across the grass, "These here shoes an' socks are causin' me a mighty amount of psychological trauma." She said it in such a matter-of-fact voice, with such a solemn expression on her face that Damien might actually believe her. It wasn't a complete falsehood, though. Her current therapist had warned her foster-family that sudden adjustments in her life could cause her severe emotional damage. Genie hated the socks and shoes, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean that they were hampering her psychological development. Adults could be so dramatic sometimes.

Genie swung her legs up onto Damien's lap, hastily yanking her denim skirt back down when it rode up a fraction. One foot gently inched forward to push the journal off his lap. Finally satisfied, Genie leaned back down on her elbows, letting them nestle into the soft grass. It would be easy to let her guard down here, but there was no way that was going to happen. Even with the added security of Damien, there was still the possibility for the worst. She wiggled her toes, trying to rub off some of the blackness. Genie had no qualms with sticking her dirtied soles up on Damien's lap. He'd just have to deal with it. It didn't really register with Genie that she made him deal with a lot things. In her mind, compromise was just a way of life. Not a very favourable one, but inevitable.

She cocked her head to the side and squinted up at his face. A lock of light brown hair that had fallen in front of her eyes was blown out of the way by Genie. "Ya can't be so arrogant, Damien. You're never untouchable. See?" Genie shifted her feet in Damien's lap. "I kick down an' you're outta commission for quite some time, yeah?" There was an angelic smile on her face as she gazed up at him. Damien was incredibly fun to tease.

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; four six six

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

"Ow, whyyy?" Damien asked rubbing the back of his head smiling watching her step away gently. She was such a joy sometimes, so full of...tenacity! When she wasn't such a country bumpkin. Genie was to Damien a cute little mix of country with insane. "As well, I got a death wish, so let them come and try, I'll take each of em. As long as I live, I'm a fighter so that's what I will do. Fight until I am no more."
Damien felt a soft bite in his chest. Until he is no more. Violence only begets violence...

His world is of violence. After that short lapse, a small smirk lit on his face.
"Psychological trauma? What kool-aid are they making you drink now? Your too much of a country bumpkin to notice it." Damien retorted gently and with a small laugh. Damien watched her push his journal off and place her legs on him. Damien hoped to God his body would not curse him to hell at this moment. Damnit, he was the teacher in the story, screwed from the start.

They were screwed up.

Though Damien couldn't help but laugh at her playful self. She still looked bashful and oh so screwed up like him. "Eh, though when you live like me, you can't help it. Untouchable or not you cannot help it. Though I know you'd enjoy it too much to do it silly one" Damien responded with his own sadistic grin. So without warning Damien moved his hands to her feet and began playing with her toes. "I could guess you can be stopped too." Damien added as he moved down and tickled the bottom of her feet. She was so screwed up, and so was he. It worked.

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

Genie felt a slight grimace spreading across her face and didn't try and stop it. Death had been a fairly common subject of conversation back at the home in Memphis, but once the talk turned serious, it pretty much became a taboo topic. Not because they were young and such subjects bored them, but because it was something that always loomed at the very edges of their mind. And what Damien had said was exactly what they had done as children back then. Fight until they were no more. She was grateful when the topic moved away from the subject of death.

"Kool-aid?" she questioned, expression totally blank. People at Norrington were exceptional at making her feel like an idiot. It didn't register with Genie that she simply didn't have the kind of basic knowledge most kids her age did when it came to pop culture and everything of the sort. Everything she knew pretty much came from books and what few movies and television shows she had seen. Genie was still rather slow in expanding her horizons, as the Wakely's rarely watched t.v. which meant that she didn't either. Genie pouted, leaning all the way back on the grass so that her hair, mostly fallen out of its ponytail, fanned out around her head. "I ain't country, Damien. Memphis ain't country. It's big city, yeah?" Just because she spoke like a hick didn't mean she was one. And really - was it her fault that she had gone so long without anyone correcting her speech? No. Not her fault. Nothing was her fault. Sometimes, though, she wished it was.

Genie rested her head back down upon the ground from where she'd raised it to speak to him. She could smell the sweet grass around her, as well as the musty-smelling dirt. The position didn't allow her to see much - although she was rather skilled at noticing approaching shadows - but she figured that Damien would alert her if someone else was coming. She trusted him enough for that. Which was strange, really, as Genie generally didn't trust people half as far as she could throw them, and her being rather petite and Damien rather solidly-built, she doubted she could even budge him. Yet she was here, at his mercy.

Genie felt something hover over her feet for a split second, before the hands descended, fingers running madly across the surface of her skin. Genie didn't think. The feeling was so strange, so sudden, that it was immediately terrifying. Instincts kicked in and Genie jerked her leg up, her foot smashing Damien right in the face. She stared up at him in shock for a split second, before reacting. Genie leaped forward, placing her hands on either side of his face. "Holy shit, Damien! I didn't bust your nose did I?" It didn't look like his nose was broken - she had seen a fair few of those in her time - but she could never be sure. Genie grimaced, trying to force her expression into an apologetic one. It wasn't working too well.

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; five one three

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

Damien just smiled at her. "It's a historical reference. You see there was this cult leader named Jim Jones. What Jim Jones did to prevent his people being apprehended by Interpol in Guyana was give everyone kool-aid. That kool-aid was laced with arsenic and cyanide and killed everyone. Though first, the parents fed the children and then themselves. So whenever someone references the kool-aid it's that. Even though it wasn't kool-aid but whatever. Just think of the big red pitcher with laced poison. Crappy sight. Damien retorted with a gentle grin. Death. Her. It was a swirl.
"Still, Tennessee is still pretty country, so Memphis or not your still a Graceland baby." Damien spoke gently, moving to her. Gently Damien creeped over to her laying on the grass ready to surprise her when.
BAM!
"Nah I'm fine." Damien said smiling, his hands over his nose. A knee-jerk reaction. Soon Damien took them down and smiled back at her. That angelic, sadistic smile was staring him straight in the face. Damien felt every cool finger and the small trickles of movement from his cheeks and her palms. Slowly, Damien moved his hands to her shoulders and placed them gently on the cool bone protruding upwards. The only thought in Damien's head was one simple, defining one.

/Yep, I am so going to Hell./

His thoughts where sharp and cold, and everything came so clear. Damien saw her hair trickle gently from her face to the centimeters away from his own. Damien could see her eyes as clear as day, and not only did the breeze make it flash, but almost lighten. Her smile, the shine of her teeth. The exact things were what bothered him. What truly bothered him the most.

"I'm fine. Really."

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

Genie listened to Damien speak, expression entirely blank. When he was finished, she took a short moment to contemplate his words. "I know what arsenic and cyanide are, but what's kool-aid? Some other sort of poison?" Her cheeks were beginning to flush. It was embarrassing, really, how even with Damien's explanation, she still wasn't understanding. It made her feel inferior to him intellectually. He was five or so years older, a great deal taller, and without a doubt stronger, but she had always taken pride in being able to match him in thoughtful discussions. Not, of course, that they had many of those. They had a rather joking, run-around-the-mulberry-bush sort of relationship. Not that she had any idea what that meant.

But right now...Genie could feel the roughness of his skin - the beginnings of stumble poking out to scratch at her palms. It gave an interesting texture, but Genie couldn't say that she was exactly fond of it. Somehow, the slight bristleliness irked her, made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. Would it be out of place for her to ask him to shave it? It shouldn't be hard - with all the little gadgets people seemed to have these days, getting a 'clean shave' as they put it in the movies shouldn't be too hard. I'm fine. Really." Was he now? Genie blinked at him. Fine. Well, if he said so. Genie pulled one hand away from his face to scratch her head. "You're like a rock, ya know," she informed him, perfectly serious. "Ya don't react t'anythin'." She supposed that it could be a positive trait to have sometimes, but at moments such as right now, it was right annoying. She reached a hand over to his head to fiddle with his hair, twisting it between her bony digits.

Despite how comfortable she seemed with him, Genie was always on the lookout for abnormal behaviour. However swiftly her and Damien had clicked, that was no guarantee that he wouldn't one day turn on her. She had to be ready. And so even in such close proximity to the older boy, Genie felt prepared for the worst, should the worst choose now to occur. It probably wouldn't, of course, but thinking that it definitely wouldn't was probably going to one day end with her face down in a gutter. Or, since it was California, the Pacific. Her other hand remained on Damien's face, although she was now dragging her fingernail across his cheek somewhat discontentedly.

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; four one four

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

"It's a fruit drink mix that suburban kids got in their lunch and you use to make fruit punch." Damien spoke with a gentle smirk. She got cyanide, arsenic, but not kool-aid? They where pretty screwed up. "Your like kool-aid then, your going to get me in a lot of trouble that I don't mind getting into. Heh, I try though. Then again we are both pretty headstrong so I think it's alright." Damien spoke with a small bite on his lips. Out of all the relationships with people he ever had, his relationship with Genie was ironically the most adult. They were both headstrong head cases that boded well for both of them. It was too easy for him to go to her, and probably the same for her to go to him. It was too...simple.
"I just don't react to anything, because I think that it might not be what the other person wants and that bothers me sometimes. Like how do you want me react?" Damien asked serious. He felt her fingers slide from his cheek, to her hair, then to his. The other was digging into his other cheek. Something was wrong. Damien didn't know what it was, but it was just that feeling. Resting his cheek against her hand, Damien let out a gentle grin.
"Somethin' the mattah?" Damien asked with a small chuckle. "You seem upset, or anxious or something."
Damien was now a little worried, this wasnt her. In as comforting a motion as he could muster, Damien placed one of his hands against the one on his cheek and stroked it gently. If it was something bothering her, the lightest touches should help. They always seemed to do!

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

"Oh." Genie didn't like feeling stupid. In fact, she rather hated it. Knowledge, as they said, was power, and when she felt that her knowledge was limited or insufficient, she felt powerless. And indeed, it was rooted deep in her psyche that the strong of mind would win over the strong of body. She doubted that Damien was aware of the sour taste his words had left in her mouth, and was quite sure that he hadn't intended for that to happen. But could she, in good conscience, hold it against him? Genie wasn't sure.

Genie sighed. "Like regular humans do," she told him, obviously implying that he wasn't her definition of 'regular'. Hers was a little warped, of course - actually, a lot warped, considering that she herself never had been and never would be quite 'regular' - but Genie figured the message came across clearly enough. "With indignation," she continued, twirling his hair tighter around her fingers. "With rage. With urgency." She gave his hair a particularly hard yank, knowing that boy's hair hurt more when pulled. With most boys, anyway. And normally only when their hair was shorter, but still. "See the point I'm makin', yeah?" Genie's finger dug perhaps a bit hard - almost scratching, really - into the side of Damien's face.

"Somethin' the mattah?" Genie was suddenly angry. She wasn't sure why, but frankly, she didn't care. All she knew was that Damien was annoying her. Somehow. Genie glared down at him, her light eyes narrowing, her lips curling into a frown. Then a hand was on her cheek. Soft, comforting. But Genie didn't care. She brought her hand away from his face - the other still clutching his hair - to claw away his reaching fingers. She had the skill to cause him significant damage, only in that action - a pinch with her nails to the sensitive web of skin between his fingers, jabbing her finger up underneath his nail - but she didn't. Instead, she simply scratched it away. "Nothin's the matter," she snapped viciously, "Don't talk t'me." She could say things like that now, like 'don't talk to me.' Genie was free to say what she wanted without having to worry what the higher-ups thought about it. Snarky comments now weren't going to get her food ration cut down.They weren't going to get her a week sleeping in the hallway. And glaring furiously into Damien's eyes, Genie didn't feel scared. After all, what could he do to her?

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; four one six

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

Down. Down. Down.

Damien smiled gently. "Hey, it's just learning a little trivia factoid, no worries." Damien responded arching an eyebrow to her direction. "So you want me to be a brute. Let anger manipulate me and attempt to push my buttons. Damien added with a gentle sigh.

"Trust me, I am not going to fall for whatever stunt you want to pull. It isn't me anymore. I understand what you are saying, but I vowed never to let my rage affect anyone other thank me enemy. A warrior's code." Damien meant it, why waste the anger now?

Damien withheld the pain by biting his lip and looked over at her, she scratched his hand away. So like usual, she says nothing's wrong.

"Something's always wrong with you, and seeing you pull my hair makes me think I said something to upset you, sorry. Genie, you know I care about you, and the last thing I want is to make you feel like you want to hurt me." Damien added with an arched eyebrow asking if that was the case. Maybe he screwed up. How Damien screwed up, he hadn't the foggiest but it seemed as though he really did screw up. Maybe it was something he said.

"Sorry for the condescending comments, if it makes you feel better you can rip on me a little." Damien asked sitting back gently withstanding the pain. "How can I not talk to you? Your telling me nothing's wrong but want me to shut up, so thus something is the matter! Genie..." Damien asked with a pouty lip.
She can get like this sometimes, well a lot. Ok more than a lot, but he got used to it. It was just how the two of them...well function.

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

Genie narrowed her eyes, not wanting to respond. She had a basic instinct, rooted deep down in her core, from years of acting on what her gut told her - from years of depending on no one but herself. Sure, you had your little gangs, your leader that you looked up to, followed without question, but when it came down to it, no one had your personal interests in mind. It was survival. And Genie's survival instinct was one of the strongest. Right now, it was telling her not to trust Damien. To rip herself away from him, take off down the path, no matter that she wasn't wearing any shoes. The bottoms of her feet were hardened enough by callouses that evening stepping on sharp stones would barely register with her at all, let alone cause her pain. But right now, she would welcome the pain. She knew what to do with it. How to react. With Damien, at present, she didn't know how to react. Which made the urge to run away, to stab him with the nail file she kept in her pocket for times of emergency, to do something that much stronger. But she wouldn't.

Because life was different now, and people fed her and clothed her and sent her to some shit-expensive posh school where she was still showered with a boatload of pricey things that she didn't need. It wasn't about looking for your next meal. It wasn't about clearing the corridors for safe passage. It was about...she didn't know. And that feeling, that not-knowing, was terrifying. Genie searched Damien's face for anything that she could respond to and not sound ignorant, or childish or anything dumb like that. But she couldn't. And so instead, she raked her fingers over his scalp - hard - and shifted so that she sat cross-legged in his lap, but facing away from him. Genie wasn't happy. And she wasn't sure why. Her teeth emerged ever so slightly to bite her bottom lip, chewing absently on the soft flesh.

Her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her, watching fixedly at the little green blades of grass, mostly congregated in small clumps that left the ground around them looking patchy. They swayed and quivered with the tiniest breeze, and Genie wondered what it would be like to be one of them. Always in the same place, nothing to protect them from predators, like humans who pulled out grass when they were bored - at this point in time, Genie was idly yanking out grass with one hand. They just...stood there, moving with every minute difference in their environment. Even a breath from her served to make them shake tremendously. So easily swayed were they. And they died so quickly, to. Remnants of straw-yellow grass blade littered the ground, fallen soldiers surrounding their vibrant green compatriots. Genie didn't want to turn and look at Damien, but she was hoping that he'd do something. Anything.

TAG; damien!
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; four nine six

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

The Boys of Summer Have Gone...

Damien looked at her. How she was, was confusing him.

There she sat on his lap, so nonchalant, yet so pissed off. He knew how she got, how stoic she was. Though this was different. Damien knew he screw up somehow, and he had to fix it. Though he knew that deep down in this stoic mess that she was only woman. They where similar him and her, with their defenses. They hated when people threaded their lines. They were the sanctuaries in each others heart, but he still believed he could get into hers.

They were too similar, from similar pasts. To similar paths. They were both soldiers, they both had to fight to where they were. He understood it, and he knew she had to understand him. That was them, just watching grass being torn off. Damien held the pain from her fingers and tried his best to ignore the sharp pain. There she was, stoic and unmoving on his lap. She wanted something, he knew it.

She wanted One thing.

She wanted...

Damien reacted to the moment in the quickest, most fashionable way. Damien without much motion, pulled her closer. "Genie..." Damien whispered gently before making the damning move. With all he had, Damien placed his hands gently between her shoulder blades and on her cheek and pushed the motions to him. Then with one false swoop, damned them both.

He kissed her. Simple, hard, and with an odd mix of soft passion and harsh determination. Damien kissed her without a sound around them. Hell awaiting him.

"Tell me what's wrong, what did I do?" Damien finally asked, opening his eyes gently. Speaking softly still in the tone lover's do.

[eugenia rose lisle]

when the jar's all out of candy

don't come blaming me

[/color][/font][/center]

She wasn't happy. That much should have been obvious. As she ripped out a particularly large fistful of grass - removing from the ground a large chunk of dirt and roots as well - a frown was beginning to mar her features. Genie wanted the blades of grass she was so brutally ripping from the soil to be something. Somebody's hair, perhaps. And because she was gripping large clumps of grass, if it were actually hair, that would cause a great deal of tearing in the scalp, which would result in blood. Lots of blood. At present, that was what Genie wanted. Blood. And she wouldn't have been too averse to Damien hitting her, really - punching her, slapping her, even pinching her skin would have been alright. Genie knew how to respond to violence. And that was what she needed - something she was capable of responding to. She had a survival instinct that she knew could kick in if ever she was hurt. Genie counted on that. It didn't make her uncomfortable. But whether or not Damien recognized that need...well, she doubted that he did.

Then, suddenly, there was a hand pressing into her back and a voice saying her name, and Genie reacted impulsively, lashing out at her assailant like an angry cat. But her initial flailing found no purchase, and she found her lips pressed against Damien's. Genie's eyes stayed widened as she tried to comprehend what was happening. It was a strange, but not necessarily unpleasant sensation. Still, she couldn't imagine why people were so fond of doing it for fun. A kiss. That was what it was. Genie blinked, still trying to process. And then he finally drew away and Genie blinked at him again, expression totally blank. He was speaking, but she didn't hear his words. She was in shock. Every part of her body felt numb. Why wasn't she reacting? That was a terrifying thought. To think that her body wasn't acting in self-defense automatically like it normally did scared her. Was life in Santa Ria turning her...soft? Genie blinked again.

Finally, she moved, although sluggishly. Genie shifted her weight in Damien's lap, balling up a fist. Without warning, she suddenly drew her arm back and sent it forward, her fist crashing into Damien's jaw, at the sensitive place, where it was easiest to dislocate it. That was years of having to fight to survive. That was who she was. And if Damien couldn't accept that, well, she'd just have to punch him and bruise him all over until he accepted that. And she could. Genie had hurt kids pretty bad in fights before. Older kids, not just children of kindergarten age, although those brawls had been much more dark and violent. She was strong, damnit, of heart and of body. And she would fight him as long as she could - or at least until she understood his motivations.

TAG; damien
NOTES;
LYRICS; sarah slean
WORDS; four eight seven

[/blockquote]

[damien michael cobrani]

The Boys of Summer Have Gone...

For the first time in a long time, Damien hit a girl.

How this happened, one must backtrack to the moment five minutes earlier. Damien took a deep smile to her. Would this calm her down? This damned kiss? Would it? God knew. Though he would get his answer within that moment though. Without much of a thought, or impulse, Damien felt something hit him like a brick. It was familiar...a fist to a jaw.

Damien's head flew back gently and contorted back revealing the bones in his neck under his skin. It was a rough sight and the jackhammer sounds of his head continued. His mind went out like a bulb for those seconds before he regrouped and came to. In fast twitch, Damien felt his head return to place. Blood was trailing from his lip. Without a thought, Damien moved his hand and smashed the knuckles into the directed spot, her cheek. A back-handed slap.

Not on purpose, but on instinct. Maybe she reacted on instinct too. They were just animals the two of them. "Is that what you want damnit? ME to be be FUCKING VICIOUS!" Damien growled gently under his teeth, a tear in his eyes. "For once, I just want to be where I don't have to fight anymore. I'm so sick of war. Of violence. I just want peace, I thought you would understand this. I'm SICK OF BEING THE DAMN FIGHTER!" Damien said looking back. "Of all people you should know what it's like...having to fight all the Goddamn time! When's my time for peace damnit. When!? TELL ME!?" Damien said looking at her.

She wanted this. That damn masochistic girl. Him, the worst masochist. Why did they need to hurt themselves so damn much?