DeClan Asher Quinn

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Everything posted by DeClan Asher Quinn

  1. Fucking Out of Here.....

    ((((aaaaand......dancing in the dark!!!)))
  2. Fucking Out of Here.....

    January 27, 2019 - 8pm A day after the Emergency Quarantine events at the hospital Fucking psych leave! Glass smashed into the fireplace with a violence that was completely out of character for the public face of the good doctor. Remnants of vodka caused the fire to spark and flare as the glass shattered into jeweled fragments in the orange light. He saves the hospital….hell, the damn city…. and the board used it as an excuse to take him out of the line up for fucking three weeks! He had never considered they would yank his authority at a time that the head of the ER was probably most needed; people coming in with more and more violent injuries in the last few days. Chest heaved as he leaned on the back of the leather couch, alcohol sweat seeping from his pores from the bender he had been on for over twenty four hours now. He needed his work….. he needed to be kept busy…. it kept him sane. Pained frown furled his brow as fingers wrapped tight around the double rings hanging from the chain around his neck. Her memory was too close. Maree had tapped into his past. He knew it was not on purpose but it had old wounds seeping thick and vivid. Growling he smacked the pillow off the edge of the couch, overstuffed square tumbling to the floor before bare feet pivoted on the cool wood floor. He couldn’t stay here. He would go crazy if he stayed here. Sweatpants were falling to the floor as he made the bathroom, shower snapped on as he climbed into the cold streams to help slough off the alcohol contamination and cool the heat in his chest. Hand slapped the solid marble wall several times as cold water pounded down the back of his shoulders, other hand still gripping the rings. He couldn’t stay. By the time he got out of the cold shower his skin was flaming red, a faintly compulsive need to scrub was borderline medical. But at least his breathing was no longer threatening to pass him out. Doctor moved to the large closet and began to strip clothes from their hangers to stuff in a large blue duffle, jeans, khakis, turtle necks and sweaters were all stuffed in along with a few hoodies and sweats while naked flesh drip dried over the closet carpet. He would take the boat out. Sail down the coast for warmer weather. Southern Florida was mid seventies this time of year. It would take about eight days to get down there if he stopped twice, barely seven if he only stopped once. Stay in the heated tides for a week before setting back up to New York. They wanted him gone for three weeks… he would be GONE for three weeks. His rain slicker was crammed into the bag along with several unopened bottles of liquor. He paused before zipping it up, frowning he moved to the pantry and took a few days of canned goods as well. His boat was partially stocked with food, fully stocked with liquor. He could easily make Georgia before he needed to port. Full duffle was dropped at the front door as bare feet padded back to his closet. Jeans were yanked over now dry thighs, their looser cut ideal for sailing as he buttoned up the fly. Arms snaked into a light gray turtle neck before a blue cardigan sweater was layered over the top. Hands scratched wildly into the peppered locks to fling water droplets wildly in the air. Winter jacket was snatched off the chair near his bed as were the keys to his boathouse and apartment. Jacket yanked on he hoisted the duffle over his shoulder before snatching the front door of his apartment and flinging it open with enough violence that it hit the inside wall. He was out of here.
  3. Fucking Out of Here.....

    “….it’s an ugly scar? Scars can’t be ugly.” Gray eyes were still studying the line as lips murmured only half aware he was even answering her. Neither ugly nor un-ugly… simply skilled or not. Likely only my eyes would see such difference. As he declared his answer he was still staring at her skin, feeling the warmth under his cold fingers. “Cheater.” So warm. So soft. So female. Thumb gently set out to explore it further when she jumped and her laughter lit up the room, drawing gray eyes out of their hypnotic reverie to blink in surprise and snatch his hand away. Just what had he been planning on doing?! Swallow was thick as he sought solace in the one thing that he could count on in this world that had taken his everything. “Sorry, super ticklish. Probably should have warned you. You win.” Nod was apologetic as he sought something strong and a bottle that was full. “Your hands are cold,” Sorry….doc hands…. He glanced down at the unusually long digits as fingers rubbed into the palm and up the thumb thoughtfully. They always been on the cold side. As he stood with the bottle in one hand he found it snatched away in a single motion and set on the counter, leaving gray eyes blinking down at her. “There wasn’t an ulterior motive to get on this trip. I just want you to know that,” Chest seized as fingers slid up into his hair, tucking it behind what she could not know were highly sensitive ears. Do something….. Her lips brushed his cheek and again that seize grappled his breath away. Do something…. Forehead pressed to his. Warmth spilling across his cool skin, transferred from her more deeply hued flesh. Do something…. Then the warmth was stolen. Slipping away to pack her bag as he stood there, the empty glass still dangling in loose fingers. “You won. See you in the morning; you have to do the dishes by the way.” She turned to head down the stairs. He finally did something. It happened so fast, his hand shooting out to snatch her by the elbow, grip a bit too tight as she was drawn backward until her spine nestled against his abs and chest. He just…..held her there. He didn’t know why. Silence lay like a blanket over the loft, his breath coming deep enough to press against the back of her shoulders each time his ribs expanded. Below, the sound of air shooting out of a blowhole seemed deafeningly loud as he simply stood there. Gray eyes had closed. Didn’t want her to stay….didn't want her to go….. what did he want? What did he want…..? Head lowered until the bridge of his nose pressed against the back of her skull, nostrils breathing in the damp scent of shampoo as the hand finally released her arm and slid lightly up it before his fingers slipped delicately across her collarbone until they came to the other shoulder and squeezed it lightly, weight of his arm now hugging her into his chest as he simply…. stood there.
  4. Fucking Out of Here.....

    Arm lifted to block the hurled "weapon" as her laugher brightened the entire loft. It was a sound he had not really let himself hear in a very long time. It drew a rare and easy full smile to his lips. Ten years of living as a hermit he had forgotten what it was like to be relaxed with another person. In ten years he rarely relaxed, except perhaps when he was alone and four or five bottles deep in his drink and then it was a hazed relaxation. This was clear….vivid. “Not fair, I call bullshit!” Absolutely not bullshit….. hell of a bite on those things. As if the memory lingered his hand rubbed the back of his left hip with a quirked brow. He was still haunted by the thought of the world moving to magic and abilities for all healing. If it did.. and he had no more worth… would that be the moment he put the bullet in his brain. “Okay, if I can’t see the ass then I get the last one. Guess. For the win. Winner gets... the rest of the bottle, and the bed.” It was without thought that he walked over, mug coming to his lips forgetting it was empty as the free hand reached to run masterful fingers over the scar on her side and stomach, eyes taking a serious and clinical expression as the old wound was studied with the eyes of a surgeon. mmm…..slice is a bit uneven, surgeon getting in in a hurry. Fingers slid along her flesh, widening out from the scar to stretch it horizontally as his head tilted slightly. Based on location and size its either appendix or gall bladder. Hand slid up onto the bottom rib to pull the skin gently upward as head tilted the other way. Decent surgeon does gall bladders through three small punctures which means he was either not decent or it was dire. Not typical of gall bladder so I would have to go with appendix. Her shirt had slid down in her grip, gently blanketing over the top of his fingers and suddenly he was aware his cool fingers were spread over her warm skin and under her shirt. They froze but didn’t pull immediately away. Quiet silver eyes remained fixed on the old scar on her side as the thumb rubbed the lower rib he still held. Breath was deep as he became aware, stepping back and letting his fingers slide from her skin with a faint apologetic smile as he moved to the side of the bed and pulled the door on the floor up once more to get a fresh bottle. He needed another drink….. a big one.
  5. Fucking Out of Here.....

    “Shut. Up. You do not. How the hell don’t you fall? Aren’t you afraid you’re going to fall?” He blinked thoughtfully before shrugging and shaking his head. No… It was very matter of fact. He never had fear when he climbed. Only freedom. If he fell and died so be it, but it was a thought that didn’t taint with fear. Head tilted, ears dipping slightly as he studied the wide-eyed expression she was languishing on him. Clearly his reaction wasn’t what she would call…normal. “Could never do that in a million years, climbing I mean. My feet are on the ground... or at the very least something solid.” A hint of smirk danced over his lips. Doesn’t get much more solid than the rock edifice of a mountain. He smiled with her regarding his experience with the swordfish. Even he had to admit it was funny that he had been the only doctor around to treat himself. Trying to explain in his very broken Bantu Swahili what to do to the local with him had been a complete comedy of errors. He had asked for water and somehow got a goat… he had asked for rags and somehow got a stick. He was lucky he hadn't bled to death on the spot. Eyes watched the move of sleeve. The telltale mark of a burn, doctor's eyes reading it easily. Likely from an oven, he had seen a lot of those in his day. “Taking a pizza out of the oven while I was naked.” Bingo. However to manage to get a second burn across her navel was….. novel. He wasn’t really sure how one managed to get that one when pulling something out of the oven, even naked. “Ruined the pizza when I dropped it. Figured after that I needed to learn to cook instead of forgetting about frozen stuff and setting off fire alarms. The naked part is another story altogether” Odd. It was the last part he was actually interested in but was denied the story. Naked came up a lot in their conversation. The very thought made elongated ears blush. He hadn't thought of naked skin as more than something to operate on in over eight years. And he could honestly tell himself the type of naked he was thinking of at the moment was most definitely not clinical in nature. Her surly smile was doing nothing to de-crimsonify his elongated appendages. As she walked to the kitchenette to rinse her bowl he took a moment to compose himself, sipping from the newly filled mug as he glanced at the bowl he had set aside. He hadn't eaten enough…. per usual. But as he watched her from the corner of his gaze, he was frankly more distracted by her licking the spoon than his own food. "C'mon Doc,what else ya got? If you drop your pants and show me one on your ass I'm gonna die." Brow raised before a mischievous smirk lit the corner of his lips. Hand scratching at the back of his neck. The scar on my ass will just need to stay a mystery for now. Lets just say me and a painted wolf had a disagreement. He had all kinds of fun injuries while working in Africa. "Better take care of that on your cheek though, might scar," Blink was clearly not comprehending her comment as his hand lifted to touch the wrong cheek, rubbing over the faint scruff before checking the other cheek, muscle down to the jaw flinching when he did. Oh… the cable had hit him in the storm. He had completely forgotten about it. Pulling his hand away there was no blood, just the raised welt there. Shrug was absent minded. Eh…. hardly serious…. besides… supposedly ladies like scars or something like that right? Brow lifted as she confessed her powers might reach into the realm of healing. She wanted him to be… a guinea pig? Healers. There were lots of them now. Time would come when the one thing he was good at would be obsolete. Then what? He would have no purpose. It was an ugly and sobering thought that drew the mug up for a complete draining.
  6. Fucking Out of Here.....

    "…the good stuff…" Of course…. Smile was easy as he put his own cup to his lips, nearly finishing the rich liquor off. He suspected she would like it. Most would. It was the "good stuff" as she so eloquently noted. Shoulders had finally sunk into a more natural relaxed position as he let his weight rest fully against the wall. Asking for anecdotes about himself was uncomfortable but in an oddly relaxing way. It had been so long since he had shared and somehow this felt…. Ok. Sharing with her felt…. Ok. “I know about the motorcycles, not fair. Rock climb? Are you a roper or one of those crazy-ass free climbers?” Brows lifted at being accused of being "unfair", lips parting before clamping shut and then offering a shy smile. Bowl was set on the top of the little black stove, keeping it warm as he rubbed the back of his neck, rest of his cup vanishing down his throat before turning to move to the bottle at the kitchen counter for a refill. The half under his breath answer coming as though he might be in trouble. ……..crazy-ass free climbing…… “Something daredevil… something daredevil… fell in the water off a sailboat once near Madagascar, actually tangled with a great white trying to get back on the boat.” He was pouring his cup, turning to top off hers just as she was pulling up her pant leg, there was a momentary flush to the elongated tips of his ears. The thought crossing his mind not as "clean" as her slender ankle with its long healed scar. Throat cleared softly as he poured some more in her mug before heading back to the kitchen to set the half empty bottle on the counter once more. As he walked back, right hand pushed the sleeve up on his left bicep, rotating the arm up like he was flexing a large 3in diameter dimple could be seen in the front, turning to show it from behind there was a matching dimple on the other side. Speared by a swordfish diving of the coast of Tanzania…. Pointing to the left side of his chest under the arm… Tip went between the two ribs, nearly punctured my lung…. Chuckle came as he lifted the fresh mug to his lips, pausing to add…. Wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t the only doctor for over three hundred miles….
  7. Fucking Out of Here.....

    "Most likely not... my studies took me to different places with much different drinking habits. I was staying with a Russian art restoration project once, the vodka alone was blitzing... someone had gotten ahold of some Appalachian moonshine." Chuckle was soft. Like Akpeteshie…. local brew in Ghana. He had definitely had his share of….unusual…. liquors. "I remember very little, but I do remember... my friends didn't." Smirk was a bit lopsided….soft "been there"… escaping his lips. Fork pushed the goulash in his bowl as he watched her plop into the small couch in front of the bed. Smile lingered as she agreed that it had to be good, no arrogance at all there. He listened quietly as he bit the screw top and unwound the cap while still holding his bowl in the other, the metal spat into the tiny sink, even if she didn’t drink much, he doubted he would be leaving any liquid in the bottle before the night was out. Both mugs were filled more than three quarters full, bit much but they weren't going anywhere tonight and likely they would be sleeping in until well into the day waiting for the sun to heat up the straight before setting out. Bo sounded like his Sam. She burnt toast even when the toaster was on the right setting. He never managed to figure out how the hell she did that. Walking over he set the "Evil Genius" mug on the arm of the couch, knowing the liquor would go down dangerously smooth. He tended to only keep good strong stuff in stock at the loft. I was the cook as well…. Quiet confession didn’t seem to really be to her. "So what else do you do besides sail ships and save lives? I tell you something, you tell me something. You know I'm an artist, and professional world traveler. I know Aikido and was lost in the Paris catacombs for a day." Lips parted only to clamp shut again as he blinked at her. He didn’t share… at least…. he hadn't shared in a very long time. He had managed to be a gruff enough ass to keep people from bothering to try and delve into any personal factoids about his life. Confronted with the question he felt himself completely uncertain how to respond. Throat cleared as he moved to lean against the wall across from her rather than the kitchen counter off to her side. The bowl in one hand and the drink in the other he sought sustenance from the mug since he didn’t have a free hand to use the fork…. that was the perception anyway as he imbibed his preference trying to gather his thoughts. Tongue licked over his lips before quiet words finally left them. Every time I get off for a week or more… I sail down to the island….. if I only have a few days… I head to the mountains to rock climb….. just like to get…away…. Mug was swirled before being brought to his lips again, it was missing half of what he had slid into it already. …..and fix old motorcycles when I only have a day off…… Faint smile was quirked as he half shrugged at the confession.
  8. Fucking Out of Here.....

    "Spent a lot of time with Bo in places that didn't have take-out. Or proper nutrition, or clean water." Nod came with a distant smile, the gaze vaguely focused somewhere in the past. Been there myself. Doctors without borders had led him and Sam to some of the most remote locations where they waited for supplies that never came forcing them to subsist on practically thin air. It was horrid, usually hot, and death surrounded them, yet he remembered it fondly. He blinked at the bowl thrust at him, glancing to the bottle of Hennessey in his other hand. Drinking he was good at….. eating…. not so much. He was always starving for an appetite. The cut of muscles was pronounced from sailing and rock climbing but also because there was little else of meat on the bone. It hadn't always been like that, he ate well with Sam, usually out at a diner or pizza hovel after she had burned a meal. Sam couldn’t cook water in a microwave. It did smell good. "If you don't like it the rum is what I get, if you do.. I get a tumbler of that.." Chuckle was soft in his chest. That’s quite the risk, that cooking slop could rot your gut. Taking the bowl he leaned a shoulder against the wall near the small row of cabinets that passed for a studio kitchen. Hennessey was set gingerly on the counter as the fork pushed around in the goulash. He doubted he could eat it all but not eating any would be an insult. Fork pushed up through the depths of the steaming bowl, lips pursing to blow over the bite before finally slipping the fork over his tongue. Expression remained impassive as he chewed, like a pompous French food critic, the brows quirked and fell as if pondering the flavors. Finally the nod came with a tilt of his head and shrug. Eh…. not bad….. Lit eyes and grin betraying he was teasing her as he couldn’t hold the straight face. Not bad at all…. a cup of the good stuff it is then…. The fork was slid back into the bowl so he could reach up and pull open the cabinet that held the mugs. Not exactly as classy as a lowball glass but it was all he had here. A white mug with a the faded words "Evil Genius At Work" on it was set on the counter before he reached in and pulled a dull yellow one that held an iconic smiley face grin on it. Honestly…. Would feel bad if the other stuff left you sick for days…. Smirk was warm.
  9. Fucking Out of Here.....

    Grab of his hand drew a tightening in his gut, the blink again wide and boyish as a husk lingered in his throat causing him to hold his tongue or else betray it. "You're an odd duck Asher." Lips parted then closed again before a faint lopsided grin crossed his expression. Well….. I have been called worse. The soft words betrayed it, a sensual husk murmuring at the base of his throat, rumbling deep in his chest. Throat cleared as she smiled in return and trotted up the steps two at a time. Thumb unconsciously hitched into the pocket of his jeans, tugging them a bit to the right before lighting the last stove mumbling softly under his breath about what the hell was really going on here. He had been a recluse and an outcast so long he had forgotten he had once been a carefree spirit, a charming quick-witted socialite, a Casanova that swept women off their feet until one returned the favor. The room was cold once more but something itched warm at him. Breath huffed violently from his lips as he tried to shake the husk and warm tingle in his chest, finishing up and lightly taking the stairs. Her cough drew a stifled laugh. That nasty rum he cooked with. She must have swigged it. Stuff was only really good to cook with. Nostrils flared at the scents billowing out the door. Damn…he only stored here things that could keep for months at a time. He never managed to make rice, powdered milk, bouillon cubes, beans, jerky and canned corn smell that good. He had a few spices in the kitchen but he never did much with them when he did the speedy edible meal when he was out here. Head peeked into the room. Smells good….. Shit… he hadn't realized how cold he was until he walked into the room that was now toasty warm from the stove. Smile was a bit shy before his hip rested on the footboard of the bed and pushed to the side, the entire thing sliding to the right to expose a trap door in the floor. I store the good liquor down here… Pulling the ring the wood door opened to reveal almost a dozen bottles in various states of being drunk. Hand slid over them before plucking a Hennessey Cognac out of the trap and closing the door, the bed pushed back into place. Probably a bit better than that cooking slop you swigged. Grin came with a wink.
  10. Fucking Out of Here.....

    Cold cold cold cold…….. COLD! Bare feet bobbed up and down as he worked to light the first stove. Brain was still trying to figure out what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time he had parked out here in the cold… he just normally was alone and ensured he showered and got dressed with shoes included before he came back down. The fire had just barely lit when a warmth tickled at his ankles causing the spine to straighten a bit, head cocking oddly at the stove. That was quick….. "Nothing to be sorry for." The voice and hand caused him to stand abruptly, nearly knocking her chin with the top of his head, pivoting to find himself mere inches in front of her, hand now on his arm. Blink was a bit boyish as silver grew and shrunk with the flex of his pupils to focus on her features. "Didn't say I didn't like it, can always use some help taming the curly mop." I um…….. The blink came again. What was he supposed to say here? Shoulders stopped shivering as warmth billowed against his clothes and crept over his skin. Blink was slower as her proximity was suddenly…. close. There was a tip back of the ears without the telltale crimson blush, silver focusing again. So close…… "I'm going to fix something to eat. Come up when you're done." Throat cleared as he leaned a bit back, her words waking him from the vacuum of space that seemed to be disappearing from between them just a moment before. Ya…… Throat cleared again as he took an actual step back this time with a nod. Sure… I will be up in a minute. Soft words had a husk that another clear of his throat chased away as he turned to remember where the other stove was. He took a little time as she disappeared, needing a moment to recover from….whatever the hell…. had just happened. By the time the third stove was going his feet were back to half frozen. The warmth she had billowed around him having lost its effect. A foot on the bottom step he stayed staring up to the open door to the loft. He had two options. Go to the boat, start the small furnace in there and settle in for the night with complete disregard for the fact he had told her he would be up…… or…… go up. Problem with up…. whatever had happened, had still happened….. if he chose the boat…. perhaps it had never happened. He lingered a moment longer before left foot slipped from the ground and took the next step. Up it was.
  11. Fucking Out of Here.....

    It was strange. He never talked this much outside of work, and there he only spoke of sutures and microsurgical procedures. He had done the same thing when he had visited her to check on her wounds. "Maree is my pseudonym, most people can't pronounce Maree'Anca so I just let them.. reminds me of someone I lost too." He blinked and glanced at her, almost as though he missed that he had been talking to a live person who was actually listening to what he said. Maree'Anca… It was said softly, testing it on his tongue, his transformation had altered vocal chords ever so slightly which would allow him to speak the musical language of the elves if he knew it. It mixed with his newfound uncanny ability to pick up languages but it was wasted on most of them except perhaps Gaelic. It also gave him an unnatural ability for mimicry of sound so her name tripped off the tongue with an almost perfect cadence. "Memories are yours to keep, they're something nobody can take from you. You like Asher, then it's Asher. No need to rationalize... it's what you want it to be." There was a soft chuckle that barely resonated in his chest as he shook his head gently. Or….. just hiding….. Words came as he scrunched her wet hair and then pondered at the possibility of being stuck in the morning due to ice. "I can.. I can probably fix that....never done anything like that before, but... I probably could if you don't want to be stuck here." Head shook as a knee rested on the couch behind her to work the other side of the plait. You unnaturally warm water and you harm the fish….. they can't handle rapid temperature changes…. hate to have our friend follow us this far only to kill him. Smile was a bit lopsided as he rubbed his finger into the towel at the base of her skull to pick up the moisture dripping from the back of her hairline and down her neck, oblivious of his own actions until she caught his hands, causing an instant freeze. "I'm my own heater. You don't have to do that, unless you want to." He forgot to breathe as he blinked at her hands wrapped over his fingers, only now really aware of what he had been doing. Throat cleared softly… Sorry….. Quiet apology came as he gingerly pulled his fingers and the towel away and out from under her fingers. Throat cleared again as he realized just how "comfortable" he had become. It was something he had not felt in a while and an edge of guilt crept around the corners of his embarrassment. He stood fluidly from the couch, walking to the bathroom to lay the towel over the sink to dry. Hands wiped on his hips as though using his jeans as a towel as bare feet padded past her, words soft… Need to get the heater running downstairs…..don't want water in the garage to freeze, it will crack the hull…. gotta get the air to stay above freezing… With that he slipped out and down the stairs, shuddering violently as he realized the large open space of the garage was significantly colder than the room upstairs. The bare feet didn’t help. He had installed three small black wood stoves around the expanse of the garage about four years ago when a thin layer of ice formed overnight around Sam and scared the dickens out of him. The stoves didn’t warm up the space like it did in the small room above, it just helped keep the air over 30 degrees, usually right around 40 when it got this cold. It was enough to stave off the ice. Crouching at the first one with a shiver running over his shoulders he began to work on getting the flames going, trying to ignore what had just happened… trying to ignore how natural it felt.
  12. Fucking Out of Here.....

    "Sorry.." Head lifted quizzically, unsure what she was apologizing for as she sketched in her pad. That’s right, she was an artist. He remembered that from when he went to her place to check on her wounds. Silver watched her hands move instead to work on her damp hair, the plait growing and shrinking as it was done and undone several times before being abandoned. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking..." A light shrug came as he stared at the small stove that gave off tremendous heat, hands still in his pockets. Nothing to be sorry about….I haven't really talked about her since….well….. since I lost her. Crouching he opened the small door to push another couple pieces of split wood inside, a third piece used to push the burning chars around in the black belly. The quiet words drifting as if she were not even there. Asher isn't even my last name…… Crackle burst as a log in the back broke in half with his prodding, silver eyes lost on the lick of flames inside. Its my middle. No one knew that. He had no idea why he was telling her. Elbow rested on his crouched knee as the little stove became the most interesting thing in the world. We worked in the same hospital. When people put Doctor in front of my last name excited, I was guaranteed to turn around and see her standing there. Small door was pushed shut, handle locked before his hand slid slowly over wet curls. I couldn’t stand the thought to hear it, turn around…… and her not be there. Hands pushed on his knees to stand again, he suddenly felt old. After a while…. I just got used to not having a last name. He watched the water bead off the half plate and bleed into her threadbare sweater. She would catch her death, even with the heater going. Standing near the wall of the loft he could feel winter's bite latching onto the outside of the building. The temperature was dropping. Bare feet padded back into the small bathroom to open the cabinet and pull out a dry towel. Coming back he unconsciously took her plait in hand, wrapping it into the dry towel, powerful fingers squeezing the towel around her hair without pulling or twisting. Clearly it was not the first time surgeons hands handled long hair. Going to be real cold tonight. If there is too much ice in the channel we might not be able to sail out tomorrow.
  13. Fucking Out of Here.....

    “I know. I can feel it, Ten years like yesterday.” Ya…. His soft admission agreeing to the fact that it still felt like yesterday so often. It was odd. Sailing out here had been one of the first times that Sam had managed to not linger thick in his thoughts. He hadn't let go her hand yet when she wiped the moisture from her eyes, drawing the brow downward. What had he done now? He was so bad at the social thing. He had spent the last ten years being nothing more than a hermit or a surgeon. The extent of his social had been across the bar from a tender that knew him just enough to always pour the right drink and keep the other patrons off him. He was just about to ask what was wrong. “Sorry, Comes with the territory, just a lot more tuned in without the background ‘noise’ of a million other people. You’ve always had this… wall. Hard to read.” Oh…. It wasn’t a very eloquent reaction. Sorry….. Neither was that. Throat cleared as he tried to collect himself to say something better. He knew he was hard to read. He preferred it that way… it kept people at a distance. He didn’t get the chance as he felt the towel begin to slip from his hips resulting and a chain of movement that left her palm on his wet chest and her features a mere inch from his silver orbs. “You cannot possibly be this much of a clutz,” I'm not. The frown and protest almost had a boyish indignant charm. As she managed to pull away first he pivoted a hip slightly so he could open the towel without exposing himself and retighten it around his waist. He free climbed fucking mountains. He wasn’t a clutz. Petulant frown side-glanced at her, ears dipping back had lost much of the red blush. He was just socially inept one on one. Not exactly something he was going to voice aloud. He blinked as he was tossed a warmer towel and his duffle was dumped at his feet. Tossing the warm one around his shoulders he bent down to unzip the duffle. "You should tell me about her" Mmmm…. He didn’t seem to have fully grasped what she said as he pulled out a long sleeved gray tee and a pair of black jeans. "Was she a doctor?" Yea….. Reply was automatic but soft as he rubbed the warm towel over his cold damp hair, unaware she was peeking as he dropped it onto the floor and lifted his arms over his head to slip the tee over his forearms, stretching the neck out as he flipped it over his head before sliding it down his torso. Towel around his waist had once again begun to creep down the hips, his V muscle exposing as he snapped the jeans out in front of him and slid a foot into one leg with the towel still around his waist. Pediatric surgeon…… Towel fell off to the ground as he wriggled the jeans up the damp thighs and finally found some modesty again as he buttoned the row of silver heads before letting the tee fall over the waist. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, that’s fair, I can’t read minds, my mojo doesn’t work that way… …but I’m absolutely sure, whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.” Head shook a bit as he grouched and picked up the two towels, ears dipping back like a guilty puppy as the frown lingered. Hand rubbed over the pained expression as he walked back into the small bathroom to hang the towels over the rail on the wall, words coming quietly from inside the safety of the other room. I didn’t save her…. He breathed deeply before exiting the bathroom again, hands sheepishly in his pockets as shoulders shrugged a bit at her. Silver watching her chew her lip, wondering what she was thinking. "If Gertrude knew I was sitting here with you in a towel she would kick my ass," No…she'd strip you down and spank you over a knee… It came out unexpectedly, mirth clear in the tone. His mother hen was a vicious lioness when it came to his protection. For the longest time she had been the only one on his side.
  14. Fucking Out of Here.....

    He completely missed the mouse sneak into the bathroom to retrieve his jeans. Shoulders had relaxed to the point of borderline slumber. He had been running on adrenaline since the events at the hospital. He drank too much and ate and slept too little. It was a bad combination. Cold alone snapped him from his reverie, bringing the womb of warmth to an abrupt halt. By the time he peeked out of the bathroom he was not sure what to say to her. The fact that she was not there drawing him out of the bathroom with a blink. Where had she…… as if on cue she came in with his duffle, dropping it onto the couch. Blink at her was pronounced. Was she expecting him to sleep in the same bed as her?? Lips parted only to shut as she spoke, acutely aware that he was dripping and naked under a towel and she was once more fully clothed. “I’m sorry, I made some connections... I had no idea, have no right to be here. This is your space. I can crash here until you come back up from the south alone.” Wait….what?? “The boat, your delirium at the hospital. Sam, was your wife,” He had taken a step towards her only to freeze in his tracks as "her" name was spoken. Fingers of his right hand reflexively went up to curl around the two platinum bands that hung from the chain around his neck that she indicated… met by her hand closing over his. Somewhere in the mix he forgot to breathe, heat wafting from her touch that made his spine shiver with the droplets still slinking down his skin. “The loss is so much deeper. A spouse is someone you choose, not something you're born into without choice. There is no sorrow like it. I'm starting to understand you a bit. But... .don’t let this, make this numb.” The frown was puzzled, lost, as she touched his forehead with a smile. “Life is still out there, and doesn't require you to forget in order to still love it. You relax up here, I’ll sleep in the boat. I’m my own space heater. Don't sweat the shower thing. I'm European, I've been to topless beaches. A lot. Doesn't always end well for gingers” What the hell was happening? Brain was fogged, Sam now lingering in his thoughts in a very "real" way. In a way he hadnt thought of her in a long time. As Maree turned to get her things, his hand caught hers, pausing her turn away. At first he didn’t say anything, his brain had paused, words refusing to form. The silence lingered like a weight in the room before lips finally were dampened in preparation to speak. What to respond to first was still uncertain. I sleep… in the boat… because I prefer it. The sway feels more natural at times than a motionless bed. He didn’t let go her hand as wet bare feet shifted closer, the furl of his brow betrayed he struggled for words and yet wanted to speak. Lips were licked again as a breath lifted the wet chest. Ten years ago…. It was said as though Maree would understand. The frown still lingering as he absently lifted his free hand to caress a thumb over the side of the smaller ring. …that I um….. lost her…………. ten years ago. It was the first time he acknowledged it out loud since it had happened. Now said aloud, it seemed almost absurd that after so much time he still struggled. But there was more to the story than that. He had not been able to save her. So many had been snatched from death by his hands, but she….she he had failed. Makes no sense for you to stay here…..island is big enough for both of us if you are looking to be alone…. and at least its warm there. He still hadn't let go her hand as he realized his towel was not as secure as he wanted, hands snapping to grab the hem as it started to slip from his hips, pulling her closer in the effort before successfully releasing her fingers. He blinked at her as he bent slightly at the waist in an effort to retuck without exposing, putting him nose to nose with the hiding ginger.
  15. Fucking Out of Here.....

    The blink at her naked form seemed to last an eternity. The mere fraction of a moment leaving a burned image. It had been a long time since he had appreciated the naked female form other than a body on an operating table. He had to admit it was a beautiful form to appreciate. Her dark curls laying wet clinging to her neck and down her collarbone, one long curl hooked just around a round…. He had spun around in the hopes of being released of the memory of the visage only for it to burn deeper, flushing the ears a brilliant crimson. "You speak Czech?.That’s a bit disconcerting. I’ll watch my language from now on." He had almost made it out the door when she spoke, head shook as he cleared his throat after the first "No" nearly had a pubescent squeak before the timber became once more deep and masculine. No….. no… but swearing in any language has a… cadence… a rhythm….so…. you know…… Hand rubbed the back of his cold neck as the chill ran bumps over every inch of flesh. “Get in there before your freeze.” Huh?... Not his most eloquent response but under the circumstances it was understandable. It took him a moment to gather his wits as he heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide away. It wasn’t like the curtain offered any privacy, but somehow the lack of it between them only burned his ears brighter. I um…. got a shower on the boat can use….really just….. you can enjoy it all here… you know…. to yourself…. I mean… Of course, the shower on the boat was small, he had to duck under the spout and hope that the tiny heater would give him about 3 min of lukewarm water. “Get in there now Asher, while the water is still hot, I can’t sail that thing myself if you catch pneumonia... and my toes are itching for some sandy beaches to walk in.” He half jumped at her curt words before her toe pushed at the bathroom door and she slid out by his side to pass towards the stove. Ya…. I guess I could…. you know…. and then… get out of your way and all…. I mean…. water's already hot… Side glance appreciated the damp legs that pushed out from under her towel, tracing the curve just behind her knee before he pivoted and found himself facing back into the bathroom. Swallowing he pushed inside and quietly closed the door, breathing once more only once it clicked into place. He suddenly wished he had put a lock on the darn thing. Perhaps if he had she would have locked it and this all could have been avoided. Wet jeans nearly fell off his narrow hips… he needed to eat more. They crashed to the tile floor with a sickening slop as he reached in and turned the water back on. Muscles melted as he stepped into the tiled surround and slid the curtain shut to keep the water from splashing over the entire room. There was another benefit to this shower, it had real water pressure. Sighing gently to himself, gray eyes closed, hand resting on the tile above the old silver temperature control knob, the water left to pound on the back of his neck and shoulders, chasing away the freeze that had sunk into every bone. Bliss. It stole from him all awareness of where he was, who he was with… as breathing became regular once more. Time fell away as his forehead came forward to rest on the back of his hand, sleep almost finding him as he stood there. Silver blinked open as the heated waters became lukewarm, losing the stock from the hot water tank. Frown spoke his disapproval as he quickly picked up the soap and washed the city and sea from his skin, shampoo foaming over his head, the grease washing away to highlight the gray wings at his temples. Just as the water turned cold he snapped the valve off, sliding the curtain open to reach for the towel that was now missing. Blink was pronounced as he suddenly was aware again of where he was and who was in the other room. Ears flushed as wet feet stepped out of the shower, the cabinet in the wall opened to grab another towel, the first one discarded when he realized he had no clothes to change into and it was not long enough to properly wrap around his hips. Shit…. Word was soft under his breath as he rummaged for a bigger one. Finally managing to get one that tucked modestly around his hips and hung to his knees. The smaller towel was scratched over his curls to discourage the moisture from clinging before he wiped the fogged mirror with it, frowning at his own reflection. He needed some sun, he hadn't gone rock climbing or sailing in a while and it showed in his vampire complexion. Opening the mirrored cabinet he used the deodorant and mouthwash before approaching the door with his wet jeans in hand, standing for what seemed an eternity with a hand on the doorknob. Ah fuck it. Knob turned and the door was pushed open, the silver timidly peeking around the corner of the door at her. Unsure what to say now.
  16. Fucking Out of Here.....

    Gray eyes watched the wet woman vanish below deck from his perch on the dock tying off Sam's hull. It took him a moment to realize he had been staring, even if it had been of the back of her head, eyes averting to the other bay where their companion seemed content to float and occasionally spray a douse of air and water upward. It felt strange. To be here with another person. These voyages had always been alone, his solace, a way of escaping the reality that had become his nearly ten years before. As she re-emerged and hit the dock, a glint of a smile crossed his lips as he tried not to watch her sway and wobble arms out. For a land-lubber the sudden stop of violent sways could almost feel unnatural as the muscles still felt the need to fight for direction. For him it was as natural as breathing to adapt between the two extremes. He didn’t miss the sheepish smile which only made him move gray orbs more intently at the rope he was tying off. It felt strange…. He relaxed when she vanished into the upstairs loft. He slept up there when it was really cold but most of the time found he was more at home tucked into cabin with the hull swaying gently under him. “Going to get this started and try a shower… warm up. I'd ask if you needed help, but you seem to have it...” He startled at the voice floating down from the loft. Staring up at the open door he could see the faint amber glow inside of the small bulb that was hooked up to the main switch, her shadow passing by. "No worries… I got it down here. Just need to… you know… put the boat to bed….so to speak." Throat cleared after the stilted speech, staring at Sam who was already "put to bed". Shower did sound good. He only now noticed he was soaked through to the bone and the longer he stood still the colder his skin under the dripping clothes got. "oh… hot water might take a bit…. got solar panels running an instant tankless but hasn’t been on for a while so…. ya… let me know if it doesn’t warm up." He waited until the water was running a while. When she said nothing he assumed the tankless kicked in and she was enjoying a hot shower. Now he had a dilemma. He could wait and then go take a shower after her, hoping the solar panels had enough juice to keep the tankless going that long… or he could just call it and wriggle his cold ass out of his clothes and into some dry ones and warm up over time. A shower meant going up there…. with her…. As confident as he was sailing his vessel, was as painfully awkward he was now at the concept of a naked wet woman now upstairs. It had been a long time…….. a really long time. Into dry clothes it was. Wet sweatshirt was slopped over his head, tossed on the rail of the dock to drip dry as he slid the soaked shoes off his bare feet and started to unbuckle his pants. He didn’t want to drag his soaked clothes down into the dry cabin of the boat and she was upstairs in a shower anyway so he was….safe. As the zipper went down a stream of swears erupted upstairs. Gray orbs were huge. She was scalded…fell through a rotted floor…bit by a wild animal that had taken up residence… what?!? Bare feet slapped the deck boards making the stairs in about a half second before he sprinted up them three at a time, the bathroom door flung open, slapping the wall with an atrocious clap. Cold air flooded the steam filled room as he stood half naked in the doorway. "WHAT'S WRONG? YOU OK?!?" Instantly his lips clamped shut as he was staring at her naked figure through the clear curtain. He had never considered the need to swap it out, modesty wasn’t something he considered since he came here alone. Ears blistered crimson as he snapped around, back to her. "So sorry.. I…I heard you swearing… worried that… you know…something….. damn… sorry." Swallow was like dead weight down his throat as he stepped a dripping foot out of the bathroom, hand reaching to gently pull the abused door closed behind him with another soft "sorry". He quickly followed his trail of wet footprints back out of the loft and back down the stairs, the crimson flooding down to the lobes before staining down his neck and prickling goose bumps over frozen skin. He couldn’t un-see what he had seen, and he felt guilty that he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
  17. Fucking Out of Here.....

    [maree]…not me…. there's nothing to be afraid of.[/maree] Faint smile tickled the edges of his lips. Not that he didn’t believe she meant it… but something always tickled the dark corners of the psyche… he too was "not afraid of anything"… but the dark corners hid… things. An almost comfortable silence fell over them. The wilder the ride got, the calmer the doctor seemed to become. Smile licked upward each time their companion surfaced in the violent waves to blast water against the side of Sam's hull. Winds were cold and chaotic but in their favor, Ocean City coming up in a little under ninety minutes. As the boat fought him to move inland, the winds began to pitch them both left and right as much as up and down, it would tear them apart. Hands left the wheel as feet leapt out of the captain's cabin onto the thin side deck, body automatically pitching to keep upright like a bobble doll that could not be knocked off its seat. A feline that could not be knocked from its perch. Lock on the main mast was wrestled downward, the rope releasing to send the massive sail furling wild and loose in the wind as he muscled it down to the boom, latching the flapping wet whip to the large horizontal post, a welt rising on his cheek where it got him before he got it. Fingers scratched at the shadow on his cheek before he hopped back down into the captain cabin to stand behind the second wheel, key turned to ignite the engine and head inland on gas power. There used to be a large white flag on the front of the boat garage for nights just like this, when it would be nearly impossible to spot it in the churning storm. But like a migrating animal he seemed to have an internal homing beacon that drove him right to it. Under the wheel he unlocked the glove compartment and hoped the solar panels had enough sun in the last few days to have some juice in the batteries as he pulled out a large remote and pointed it to the shadowy coast. Nothing. That would be a pain in the ass, docking beside the garage and wrangling the two story glass garage door by hand. He did that when he originally found the place until he installed the solar panels to the single door he used. Hopefully it was just the storm blocking the signal until he got closer. As the boat pitched less in the protected waters of the inlet he tried again, relieved when a faint little light turned on betraying the door was sliding upward. The garage was at the base of a ridiculously decadent mansion. He never went up to the house, he had picked the spot because it was the only boat garage that he could literally drive Sam into without pulling down the mast. (garage) One side of the garage had an apartment so there was no need to go to the house anyway. Besides, he usually stayed on Sam when he docked. The garage still had some of the original "toys". A few were cannibalized for parts. He had made good use of the find. As he put the beast gently into reverse to slow their movement he chuckled at the whale making itself at home in the bay next door having swum under the glass garage door. The water was deep enough that it seemed content to hang out outside of the violent waters. Likely the first peace it had in weeks. Engine died as he quickly jumped off the deck to the center dock, pulling Sam's tie off until it gently hit the bumper on the dock before the small garage door light flicked off to bathe them in darkness. Makeshift switch on the wall was hit, a small light on the side wall flickering on, a jimmy-rig to his solar panels. He blinked at her in the soft dim light as though he had forgotten she was there. Fingers scratched the back of his head as the other gestured up the stairs near him. [declan]…. apartment upstairs… has working water and a good little stove heater. I keep a stack of wood next to it all the time.[/declan] It was a clean loft, the bathroom the only separate room as the bed looked out a wall of windows, kitchenette in a corner of the large room. He kept the loft tidy and stocked with canned goods in case he ever had to stay more than a single night. Smile was a bit lopsided as he walked to the back of the hull to tie off the back against the dock, peppered curls shaking to spray a bit of the ocean waters from the locks.
  18. Fucking Out of Here.....

    Gray eyes closed against the spray of frigid winds. A serenity that didn’t exist in his life in New York settling over him. [maree]Why do you do it then?[/maree] [declan]huh?...[/declan] Eyes opened to blink at her through the moist air. [maree] I hear the board talking, janitors are invisible. I know people bother you there, nurses seem to have a bullseye on my forehead because I have keys to everything. The hours are exhausting. I get why Bo does it, he can’t leave a problem unsolved… but you, why don’t you just leave? There has to be somewhere better that will appreciate? [/maree] Head shook with a ghost of a smile. [declan]…where? New York is the largest working hospital still in North America. Has the largest concentrated population. Has the most people in need. The hardest cases that no one else can solve………..or touch.[/declan] Wheel spun a half turn as he watched the sky a moment, correcting to keep them from bashing into rocky waters but not carried by the torrential ocean waters out to sea. It was an artful skill to sail stormed waters. Skill and a bit of insanity as he spoke of being fired and looking for a place to be a hermit. [maree]Why did you come back to New York then?[/maree] [declan]…perhaps I am like your brother in this. I couldn’t leave it alone.[/declan] Smile came with a half shrug as he watched her ponder a moment. It was strange to be on ocean waters with a companion again. A twinge of guilt threatened to disrupt his harmony but it vanished with the flow of the bow over a twenty foot wave, the crash towards the bottom sending the shiver right down to his toes. Calm waters anyone could enjoy. This…. this chaotic violence… this was all his. [maree] It’s good there are people in the world like you that will help us. It’s dangerous. The people who helped me after I almost died, instead died because of me. They knew the risks, and they took me in anyway .[/maree] He was silent a while. Watching the dark waters and the sky whose stars got brighter and brighter the further from civilization they got. [declan]….fear drives everything these days……..[/declan] Frown lingered over the brow, wet ears flicking backwards to send thick droplets horizontally projected only to saturate once more. [declan]……fear….. and pain.[/declan] Chilled fingers adjusted the wheel, head shaking gently. [declan]….most use both as a shield, an excuse to…….to ignore.[/declan] He had once too. In the beginning. The world had taken her from him and he could not have cared less whom he ignored and let perish in the wake. But her encouraging words from the past and his true nature haunted his apathy. So it had been short lived, which is why he ended up in New York, at the last vestige of dense humanity. Where he would always be up to his eyes in blood and forever loathed for his indifference for whom he saved. Eyes hit the sky and then the coastline. [declan]…couple more hours we will make Ocean City…. no one there anymore but good place to dock a bit for sleep. Can normally just sail through the night and not go too far off course…. but not in winter waters, have to steer the whole time.[/declan] He had cleaned up a boat house there from some old mansion, big enough to literally park Sam all the way inside.
  19. Fucking Out of Here.....

    [maree] I never remember you not being there, in the ER I mean. [/maree] Snorted laugh was soft and perhaps a bit bitter as he let the wheel spin right for the briefest moment. [declan].. its usually when I am put on a forced leave.[/declan] Hand rubbed the back of his neck as he added quietly. [declan]…doesn’t happen as often as it used to. They know better.[/declan] He was just too damn good. When they promised the puffed up elitists the best surgeon… they had to call him. That meant they learned to put up with his idiosyncrasies, including the fact that they would have to serve the altered in the hospital or he would walk. [maree] How in the world could you find a place like this on accident?[/maree] Smile was a bit distant in the dark as he adjusted the wheel slightly left knowing they needed to be a bit further into the ocean waters to avoid the jagged coast lines. Damp lashes flicked up to map the stars once more, a faint blue hue forming over his lips and the tips of the elongated ears as they cut through the freezing temperatures. It would be a good eight hour sail before they felt a noticeable rise in temperature. [declan]… it wasn’t entirely by accident.[/declan] Hip rested against the side of the vessel as the right hand remained on the wheel, lightly correcting each time the damp lashes sought the sky and the boat crashed down over a storm filled wave. [declan]……another lifetime ago… I vacationed down there once.[/declan] A ghost passed over his features before his shoulder lifted, head tilting to rub his ear against the coat as if brushing it away. [declan]…then got fired about…. guess was six years ago now….before you worked there.[/declan] Fingers lifted to sheepishly scratch in his too long hair. [declan]…. I might have disagreed with another surgeon on how he was about to handle a delicate operation on an altered kid…. and he might have ended up with a scalpel through his hand.[/declan] Truth was a bit darker. The surgeon was about to ensure the altered child didn’t wake up from the surgery. Bunch of racist skinheads had taken over the New York hospital from the beginning. Shrug came with a bit of a lopsided grin. [declan]…so they fired me and I left town. Wasn’t really planning to come back. Went south and spent about four months looking for a good place to become a hermit. Found this place.[/declan]
  20. Fucking Out of Here.....

    He couldn’t help the chuckle as she was doused with exploded wet air from the blow hole of the whale. The young mammal seemed to be using them as a surrogate pod, it would be good if it followed them all the way, these waters were far too cold for it. These waters were far too cold for anyone. Yet, he promised not to get her killed in them. [maree]Good to know cap[/maree] Smile slid his lips as the boat pitched up and back down a good fifteen feet with each wave. The further they got out the wilder the ride as eyes periodically sought the sky and made minor adjustments on the wheel. It was aggressive sailing…borderline reckless… and he loved every moment of it. Every thunderous crash downward took them that much further from the world and each inch further seemed to lift weights from his shoulders. Every scowl at his appearance washed away… every scream for help softened to a memory… every life and death decision he had to make turned to misting waters and slid from his shadowed personality. [maree]…happy…relieved and having fun.[/maree] He glanced to see she was looking over the rail at the whale once more, smile lingered as he nodded when he answered. [declan]…waters are too cold for him…that young he likely still needed a few more seasons to know the migration route on his own. He is using us as a surrogate pod. Good thing we are heading south and not across the pond to Europe.[/declan] It was a horrifying thought… that he might turn their little boat out into the great vast ocean. But the wheel kept steady as the gaze flicked skyward once more. The black abyss had long ago stopped being "dark" to the elven eyes, he saw clearly over the thundering winter ocean. [maree]Ever run into anyone out here?[/maree] Brow quirked as he glanced down at her in the upper deck couch, head shaking without hesitation. [declan]… on winter waters? No one is that stupid.[/declan] It wasn’t exactly a comforting response considering THEY were out on winter waters. Yet he seemed completely at calm in the frigid spray of ocean mists as the bow again rose and dropped over a wave, crashing easily over twenty feet now. [declan]…and rest of the year it is a rarity. No one sails anymore… and these are not trading route waters so no one takes the big ships down the coast.[/declan] He seemed distinctly pleased by the fact that they were effectively guaranteed to be devoid of any human contact for the rest of their trip. [declan]….anytime I am off a couple weeks…. I head down there. Found a place few years back and I go back each time.[/declan] "A place" was a bit of an understatement. Melody Key was a private island that could not be reached by anything by boat which just about guaranteed no one else was going to stumble on his little sanctuary. With two off the grid buildings he not only had a get away, but it had power and running water. It was his oasis.
  21. Fucking Out of Here.....

    The call below them seemed to spook her. It was a unique sound if one had never heard it before. Smile tickled almost easily on his lips, a relaxed state he never shared with anyone. [declan]…it’s a north america right whale… he is late to migrate. Normally by now they are all down by Georgia or Florida.[/declan] It was too dark to see, but the sound of exploding air at the surface of water betrayed the creature surfaced beside her. Slap of its tail told him it was heading south too… and it was small for a right whale…. only twenty or twenty-five feet long. Still young. Might have gotten separated from its pod. Perhaps that was why it was still up in these cold waters. Wouldn’t survive up this far north. They might have a companion the whole way down. [maree] Never could pay attention to it before..[/maree] Back arched to hang a bit further over the side relishing the raw freedom and death wish that shivered the back of his neck before finally pulling himself of by the rope twisted around his arm. He watched her peer over the side trying to see what was in the dark, lips parted to warn her but he was too late as the whale surfaced again and spouted wet air up towards her. It was side-riding them. Chuckle was soft. [declan]…they are gentle…. too much so… used to be hunted badly for their oils because they didn’t flee the boats. Were near extinction before the world went to hell.[/declan] Rope was tied off as he hopped off the rail back onto the deck. [maree]….something I can do to help??.... or are you a solitary daredevil?[/maree] The foreign sound of low pitched laughter came once more as he hopped down into the captains bridge, taking a place behind the second sailing wheel. Words were quiet as he cranked the wheel to shift the rudder, steering with some invisible compass in the abyss of the winter night. [declan]…. no worries….been sailing her for years on my own.[/declan] Wheel cranked again to turn the boat into the oncoming waves, the bow pitching hard up and down, skilled hands keeping the vessel from getting hit on the sides and potentially tipping. [declan]…promise not to get you killed until at least we get to warmer waters.[/declan] Smirk played on the edges of his lips as he continued to steer by what seemed to be instinct, though eyes flicked to the sky often. It was the stars in the night sky that guided him.
  22. Fucking Out of Here.....

    With every inch he put between them and New York, the shoulders lowered and relaxed. It was dangerously frigid, wind and water biting through coat and clothes but the doc didn’t seem to notice. He blinked at her when he turned off the engine, something in her gaze… fear? Was she second guessing her decision? With the engine snuffed out he was content to empty his bag of goods into the kitchen, the duffle then tossed into the room on the right holding only his clothes at this point. He took a minute to let her know where she could stay and to flip on the propane marine heater, pilot lit to start warming up the lower cabin. [maree]… spent a summer on a small R/V off the shore of Mogadishu. I’ll be okay…. [/maree] He nodded but looked somewhat skeptical. She looked a bit….ill… despite her half smile. As she vanished into her cabin he hopped the steps to the deck two at a time. Rigging was quickly untied, sails hoisted. A normal person would keep using the motor, a normal person wouldn’t even be out in the winter gales…. he wasn’t normal… not when it came to this. Rope was wound around his forearm and pulled, pitching the boom in the other direction to catch the winds and get the bow pointed south. Eyes closed as he stood on the edge of the deck, body hanging off the edge as the grip on the rope kept him from falling over. Riding the rail when she emerged again on deck. He didn’t say anything, simply watched her walk the tipped deck. [maree]….so quiet…[/maree] Wind drew her words to him, head tilting as he watched her move to the steps once more. He thought to let her go down on her own but found his own words carrying over the wintery winds as the boat finally caught the gust just right and began to zip up and over the waves. [declan]…. its not you know…. quiet…[/declan] Quiet words came as his eyes remained fixed ahead, body leaning a bit harder off the deck to wrankle the sail into full bloom. [declan]….with all the unnatural noise of the city it just seems that way…. but if you listen…. nature makes its presence known out here…[/declan] As if to make his point, the crash of the bow down into the waters sloshed violently, throwing mist over the deck, punctuated at the same moment by a soft siren sound bubbling up from beneath the vessel. A whale call reverberating off the water's surface from not very far below.
  23. Emergency Quarantine!

    New York Hospital January 25, 2019 10pm The ER had been hopping, it was a typical Friday night. Three crash victims, four gunshot victims, two stabbings and one victim of his own homemade bomb later and the doctor was sitting in a chair of the operating room staring at the wall. Elbows rested on his knees, left hand holding up his head, fingers pinching over closed eyes as he tried to remember the last time he slept. He wanted a drink… he didn’t drink at work. It was a dilemma. Sighing softly he pushed off his knees, lifting like dead weight out of the chair as he tugged the stained labcoat off his shoulders and dumped it into the biohazard bin. Shift was over and as usual the next guy was late to take over the ER. If there was any god at all he would be left alone for a thirty minute power nap in case no one showed….again. Gray eyes peeked out of the swinging door, like a mouse checking for cats before he slipped out to find a room to die in. The empty recovery room was dark and his breathing had just slowed when the pager at his hip went off, zapping him causing a violent jerk out of the bed. [declan]CRAP![/declan] It did that every time, his body's unique aversion to electronics always causing it to fritz when it went off. It was better than the cell phone he had originally carried. That had burst into flames in his damn pocket. Pinching the bridge of his nose he headed towards the main nurses station to see what was coming in. [declan]..hey Gretchen….what do we have coming in.[/declan] The deep frown on her brow made him hesitantly step back and offer a meek smile. She could read when he was exhausted, strung out, hungry….she was a damn mind reader if he hadn't known better. [npc]….bite victim..possible infection and artery damage.[/npc] Nodding he took the clipboard from her and scanned over the notes that had been called in from the ambulance. [declan]Lycanthrope?[/declan] [npc]..believe so.[/npc] Odd…. wasn’t a full moon. Nodding faintly he moved to the coats on the wall, a new white "cloak" slid up his arms to prepare for "battle". Emergency techs came running in with Kyle Turin on a gurney, his shoulder wrapped in about three pounds of gauze and still turning red. [declan]Operating room three…[/declan] He followed the men as they kept taking vitals, the bag of fluids held up to seep into the victim's veins. As the bed wheels were locked, the ambulance tech handed him their clipboard with a faint scowl as eyes trailed over the good doctor's ears. Typical. Eyes skimmed the docket. Guy had been several hours outside of the city, out in the woods, when he had gotten bitten. Based on him driving himself back home and then not feeling well, the window for giving the antiviral was getting small. At least the guy seemed reasonably calm, morphine must have kicked in. [declan].. hi Kyle. I am Dr Asher. Can you tell me what exactly happened?[/declan] As the guy began to babble excitedly about a monster in the woods the dexterous fingers were popping a needle into the good arm and drawing blood without being noticed. A brow was lifting as the way the man described it, it sounded more like a zombie than a werecreature. They hadn't had a z-viral outbreak near New York in over six years. [declan]I am going to give you an antiviral to counteract anything you might have contracted and then we will take a look at the shoulder ok?[/declan] Kyle just nodded, eyes showing signs of reddening in the irises that the doctor didn’t like. Not sure what he was dealing with yet, he gave two shots, the morteximius and lycaneximius antivirals just for good measure. Smiling he patted the young man's arm for reassurance before sitting on the rolling stool and moving to the microscope, needle expressing several drops of Kyle's infected blood to see which of the two it actually was while the antivirals took effect. Focus on the manual dial was done twice as his normally calm heartrate began to elevate. Pulling from the eyepiece he rubbed tired orbs hoping to clear something disquieting from his vision before he leaned in again to check the blood once more. Anyone else would have simply said it was the morteximius virus and moved on. But Asher wasn’t anyone. He had spent nearly every free moment of his life studying all the viruses seeking better cures. This….was mutated….engineered….. this…….was an outbreak. Coat fluttered as he bolted out the operating room doors, nearly knocking over the nurse that was coming to help prep the shoulder for surgery. Sprinting down the hallway, the scowl was etched on his brow, words whispered under his breath again and again…. [declan]…please don’t fritz…please don’t fritz….please don’t fritz…[/declan] Skidding to a halt in front of the plastic square, he took a breath and flicked open the case before the fingers balled in a fist. [declan]…please don’t fritz[/declan] Last was whispered like a prayer as he hit the large red button holding his breath until the corridor lights dimmed, red strobes dropping from the ceiling as the alarm began to throb softly throughout the hospital. Breath sighed out as he sprinted back to patient X while every door and window of the New York hospital began to block out the city lights, thick steel quarantine doors beginning to drop down to seal up the building like Fort Knox. Three years after the Nevus, the retrofit of the hospital had been done for just such an incident. The fear of a viral outbreak had been so present in those days. There had not been a case in years, so they had stopped even testing the system. It was a miracle the quarantine defenses still worked. Nurse hadnt gone into the room, her wide eyes now panicked as she looked at the doctor, scrambling back as he sprinted towards her. [declan]No one comes back here… you hear me… no one![/declan] She nodded, dropping the tray of gauze and scalpels as she turned to run back to the nurse's station. Entering the operation room he snatched a white mask, pulling the elastic over his head to tuck over elongated ears. This was bad…. this was very bad….
  24. Emergency Quarantine!

    Getting the canisters the frown remained over the gray eyes. The big guy said the right things to "sound" well versed in these things as the alarm went off but the elven doctor had doubts that he actually knew what he was doing. How exactly was the surgeon supposed to know when the filter vaporized and the thing back drafted?? Lips parted about to ask as such when the highly developed ears twitched and head snapped to the side before the Nord whispered his name. Head shook to warn him to be quiet as the silvery orbs narrowed at the doorway watching the head begin to peek out. This was a problem. He wasn’t like Maree. He didn’t have that sort of power or strength. But he wasn’t helpless either. Crouched beside the Nord the orbs were flicking around the roof looking for something, anything to get that damn door secured. Canisters were set next to the big man as he kept low to the ground. [declan]… you are on your own with the canisters CDC.[/declan] The whisper came as he slunk around the back of the brick enclosure that held the door on the other side. The awning on the back had caught his eye, clearly protecting something and he wasn’t disappointed. The large coiled firehose was behind a glass compartment and the ax to break it and ventilate the roof in the event of a fire was hanging beside it. One he could take on…. many? Unlike others scarred by the Nevus he hadn't become an X-man. The noise would only bring them quicker. He had to be fast. Ax was bounced in his hand a few times as he worked up the nerve to break the glass and snatch the hose. Firehoses were strong and would offer a decent "cord" to tie up the door. Trick was getting the door closed to do it. He timed it. Feeling the count of the alarm in the hopes of drowning a bit of the sound out. As the next blast came the glass exploded with the head of the ax slamming through. Hand snatched the hose, cringing as his forearm scratched along a piece of jagged glass before he sprinted the back way around the brick enclosure. The door was opening towards him so offered some cover as his foot hit the metal, snapping it closed and on the head of the creature about to exit out onto the roof. Damn. The creature didn’t fall back down the stairs as the doc had been hoping but rather slammed into the door causing it to snap back at him, side of his forehead struck hard causing a set of stars to form before he caught sight of the creature attempting to clamor around the door at him. Steel was kicked again and as a decaying hand came around he put the ax to good use, its scream sure to bring more fast now. Ax swung again as he now had a shoulder on the steel and dug his feet into the blacktop trying to force it closed. Nails ripped at the side of his throat as he grunted trying to keep the steel door moving in the right direction. A last wild swing of the ax took off the entire arm at the shoulder and allowed him to finally shove the door closed. The hose was yanked and woven though the handle on the outside and the latch on the wall before pulling it around the brick building, able to circle it twice before he was forced to tie off the hose. It wouldn’t hold long as the first bangs resonated as the metal door was struck from the inside. Stumbling backwards watching the door he held the ax ready to swing. Voice carrying over his shoulder. [declan]…sure hope you know what you are doing![/declan]
  25. Fucking Out of Here.....

    [maree]We're twins doc. People always see more than what's there because they don’t understand.[/maree] Head shook gently as the bike revved up. [declan]…understand the twin thing. Don’t understand the…. coming with me thing….[/declan] Words were almost too quiet over the engine before he pulled out and took them to the harbor. She didn’t know him…. had no reason to trust he wouldn’t slit her throat out at sea…. yet had not really hesitated in getting on his bike and grabbing him firm. He trusted his patients… his hands… not people. She was different a fact reinforced when her laughter broke through the cold bite of wind as Hank stammered an apology. The doc blinked at her. He had never heard her laugh like that… so easy. But she was forgotten again as Hank pointed out Samantha was in the water. Heart rate picked up, it always did as feet made quick work of the distance. He couldn’t get her away from the world fast enough. It was good Maree got on the deck quick on her own because the doc had already dumped the heavy duffle on the deck and was untying the moorings, ropes tossed onto the deck as feet that seemed to have lost two tons scampered over the deck to the back cabin. Keys were pulled from his pocket and the boat suddenly came to life. He had not wanted a motor on the sailer but Samantha had insisted she wasn’t paddling out of harbors anymore. These days he was glad he had it. It allowed him to put the world behind him far quicker, particularly when the winds were not favorable to sail out of the alcoves of civilization. The deck heaved as he pushed the throttle forward and Samantha made her way out of the covered dock, wheel cranking to turn her almost too early. The doc was clearly anxious to put distance between himself and the world. Motor hummed, the moment they cleared the docked boats on both sides he pushed the throttle further, almost immediately she started to chop up and down on the winter waters, biting wind pouring over his features to flush his cheeks crimson. He wouldn’t admit it, but this psych leave might have been the best thing to happen to him in a while. He hadn't had a chance to take her out for more than a day in over a year. To get a chance to stay off land for days on end… it was a blessing. As New York's shore got further away, her nose lifted and dropped in larger more violent slaps. The deck never seemed to tip side to side, with a clearly expert hand he navigated the rough winter waves to hit them head on. The wind was their only conversation for nearly forty minutes as he got the vessel headed out into open waters and pointed south. He finally cut the engine, eyes closing as he lifted his chin and seemed to breathe for the first time. After the lights of the city it was pitch out on the open waters, until eyes could adjust it seemed they were merely floating out in the abyss. Stepping out of the driving cabin he moved to the deck and picked up his duffle, pausing to blink at her, almost having forgotten she was there, faint lopsided smile came to his lips before jutting a chin towards the steps going down into the lower cabin. He didn’t wait, lugging the duffle down into the depths of the now quiet sailboat. Fingers flipped a switch on the wall and lights flickered to life. Below deck it became apparent just how large the sailboat was. He hadn't wanted something this "fancy". He had wanted a raw sailboat, man against the sea. Sam had scoffed at him and dictated if they were travelling the world she wanted a few comforts. She also had always thought they would eventually have kids and need the extra room. It had never come to be. Dropping the duffle in the middle of the kitchen he waited for her to come down. Chin jutted to the door on the left of the stairs just behind her as she reached the bottom. [declan]…you can take the bedroom on the left. Has its own bathroom and a small closet.[/declan] Words were quiet as he unzipped the duffle and began to unload the canned goods into the kitchen cabinets and small fridge. The liquor went into a bar that when the door was opened was clearly kept stocked even without his home additions. [declan]I will be in the room on the right.[/declan] Quiet words added. [declan]If you aren't used to the choppy ride it’s a good idea to lay down first couple hours rather than fight through it. Get over any queasiness faster.[/declan]