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Post by eugenia rose lisle on Feb 25, 2010 15:55:04 GMT -5
when the jar's all out of candy
don't come blaming me [/color][/font][/center] Genie knew how to punch. She had to, of course. After all, it was pure folly to think that she could lived long enough to come across such "good fortune" as she had, had she been entirely inept at that particular action. And when she had learned to punch, it hadn't necessarily been in the conventional way. It hadn't been a weak self-defense punch, or even a wild, desperate one. The kind Genie knew was sharp, concise, brutal. Clean. Because when fights got dirty, you needed to have some semblance of order. And so she had trained herself to make everything, from kicking, to biting to pinching and hair-pulling to have crisp, almost mechanic movements. It kept things going smoothly. And Genie witnessed Damien's head snap backwards in the same brisk movement that she had seen so many times before. She had been caught off guard, and so the blow hadn't been enough to dislocate his jaw. Maybe that was a good thing. Although it might stop him talking for a bit, as well as prohibiting any other uses of his mouth, she doubted that it would have put him in a very forgiving mood.
She had thought she knew enough about psychology to be sure that there would be little or no retaliation. Perhaps some yelling, angry storming away, maybe tense silence. The stinging in her cheek told her otherwise. Genie blinked a moment, trying to process. She had been slapped before, but even so, that was rare. As a child, slapping was something to establish rank - superiors slapped their subordinates when something wasn't done right. Fighting included everything from spitting in people's eyes to kicking them as they lay on the floor. Slapping generally didn't do much. But Genie was finding that the slap had a sort of numbing effect. Her cheek was still smarting unpleasantly and glowing bright red, but it no longer held the same pain as the original impact, except along her cheekbone, where his knuckles had collided. Reaching fingers gingerly up to that area as Damien spoke - or yelled, maybe; the whole thing was just buzz in her ears - Genie found that the spot was aching, probably going to bruise sooner or later. And she was still, perfectly still, as Damien continued to ramble on about something or other. And then slowly, slowly, she set herself into motion, one hand reaching down to the small, quasi-useless pocket in her denim skirt, retrieving a metal travel nail file that she concealed in her palm. Genie looked down at the grass below, hiding her face behind straggly brown hair. And then, quick as lightning, she had the nail file at his throat, the cool metal pressing ever so lightly against his adam's apple.
"Oh, shut yer mouth, you. Din't your daddy e'er teach you that there's no such thing as this peace yer goin' on about?" She was calmer now, no longer irritated. But still, there was a situation that required her attention, and so she would give it. Simple as that. Genie liked to keep life simple. She blinked, eyes finding the nail file in her hand and widening as though she had just seen it for the first time. But her hand didn't budge. Instead, she turned her eyes back up to Damien, her expression entirely neutral. "You do realize how this would look, yeah? You, all old an' big, wearing your 'spensive suit. History of violence, bad family. Me, on'y just thirteen, poor little orphan who no one's gonna miss. Bruise on my face. No one around." A tranquil smile settled across her face. Genie was in control. It felt a lot better, she decided than having absolutely no control to speak of. A lot better. "So you realize, Damien, what it would look like?"
TAG; damien! NOTES; wow, uh...she's kinda creepy.... LYRICS; sarah slean WORDS; six three five
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Post by damien michael cobrani on Feb 25, 2010 17:05:23 GMT -5
The Boys of Summer Have Gone... Damien had known this feeling before, being cornered. Damien lived for this. The cool metal was touching gently against his neck, for dare he breathe and feel the blood gush from his veins? She was good, damn good. "Manipulative...I like that. Damien said in a whisper as he looked at her. So small and lethal, like a cat huh? "...What are your demands?" Damien asked calming down. This did look bad. He felt a gentle sting on his jaw. It was going to be a nasty little bugger. This would not bold well whatsoever. "I got to give you points, you got me." Damien said sitting back nonchalantly. She was still on him, pinned. No one was around, this was bad. Damien knew how dangerous now this girl was. Peace... What was peace anyways. She had him and he knew that he was just slinging bullshit. Let the killer tell people not to kill. What a riot! Damien bit his lip, so he wondered. Would she do it? Cut him like a pig? It seemed fitting didn't it? Damien could just overpower her for sure, but...he felt this was the better solution, hang back and watch and wait. The war would go on for a little longer without this pause. He couldn't help but wonder though what was going through her head. Violence? Pain? Murder? Anything could be just walking through that mind of hers now and that little accent of hers, which sounded more brutal by each word. So brutal the fit of those who fight.No truer words were ever spoken. She was surely fit to kill.
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Post by eugenia rose lisle on Mar 3, 2010 18:09:14 GMT -5
when the jar's all out of candy
don't come blaming me [/color][/font][/center] Manipulative? He thought this was manipulative? Genie almost laughed, but realized that it would make the nail file quiver in her hand, and although it wouldn't really budge it from its current position, any such tremors would surely be noticed and give the impression of weakness, when in reality, she was far from weak - the exact opposite, in fact. So although she didn't make any other outward reaction other than a slight twitch at the corner of her left eye, Genie found the situation funny. Damien was obviously more sheltered than he thought. True manipulation...it robbed you of your very being, twisted who you were at the core. Right now, she was simply holding a nail file to his throat. Genie clicked her tongue patronizingly. "Now now, Damien. I should hope y'aren't getting off on this." For good measure, she applied just a tiny bit more pressure with the nail file.
Genie listened as Damien spoke, although she didn't really care what he was saying. After all, she held the power - literally - and that meant that no matter what he wanted, she wasn't obligated to give it to him. Genie smiled calmly, before flipping off him onto her back, nestling herself in the grass. "Yeah, I got you," she said with a sigh. She still clung to the nail file, her long bony fingers wrapped tightly around its length, but her hand was tossed casually into the grass above her head. She lay there a moment more, smelling the grass that surrounded her head. Genie's face split into a toothy grin. "Yeah." Sometimes life could get boring - so boring she wanted to tear her hair out and make it into a belt - but today wasn't one of those days. The level of excitement she experienced on a day to day basis had diminished drastically since coming to Norrington, but this, at least, was enough to sate her for the moment.
She turned her head, still resting it against the ground, to peer up at Damien. From the blotch that was beginning to form on his jaw, her hit was probably going to bruise. Good. "Did ya think I would kill you?" she inquired blandly. Not the most important detail she needed to know, but Genie figured she ought to ask anyway. Lest Damien go running around all over the place declaring that the thirteen-year-old girl going barefoot was actually a psycho-killer in disguise. That certainly wouldn't do very much for his reputation. Or nothing positive, anyway. But then again, Genie found that she didn't really care. It was for Damien to look out for himself. If she had to take responsibility for him, whatever would she do with herself? All these questions.
TAG; damien! NOTES; LYRICS; sarah slean WORDS; four five seven
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