doomed from the start.

Missing first part of this scene...basically, Vast comes upon Evie at a cafe. He buys her a necklace then takes her home where they.. *ahem*. Evie notices a familiar sort of tattoo on Vast's lower back and this conversation/arguement ensues...



Vast Sat 01:25AM CST

He shifts to face her, drawing one leg up sideways on the leather couch. Cowskin is soft as a baby's skin under their bare skin. Skin, skin, skin: his eyes drift over her body, slowly; her dancer's frame, the lithe sheet of muscle over her fine bones. "And what do you suppose it means?" He sips again, then sets it aside and focuses all his pale attention on her.

Evie Sat 01:31AM CST

She's staring down at her glass of water. Intently. As if she hopes to find the answer to his question within it. Her head dips a little lower. Hair sliding forward to shade the small amount of shame in her dark eyes. How can she know so little about her heritage? But still, she clears her throat. Words gentle. Somewhat unsure. "It's..it's about your tribe, right? It's about who you belong with. I remember.." She furrows her brows. "I saw one when I was younger..I didn't realise then..but that's what it is yes? A sign of who your family is." She thinks briefly of Aoife. Of Cliona.

Vast Sat 01:34AM CST

Vast groans, briefly turning his head toward the back of the sofa, and the hand slung atop it covers his face for a moment, mops up over his hair. He scruffs his palm over his short dark hair, then looks at her again. "You're kin, then, are you? Fucking great. And not my tribe either -- you haven't the breeding." A woman could be insulted by such words. "What is it, then? Get of Fenris?" God, he hoped not. She was blonde; therefore, "Children of Gaia?"

Evie Sat 01:39AM CST

She does look offended. Indeed there's flash of anger in her eyes and a stiffening of her spine at the 'breeding' comment. "I am Kin. And I don't appreciate being defined by what and I do not have. I'm not a piece of meat." My, look at the fury as she stares at him and then places the glass down--firmly-- before sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. If the temper doesn't hint at it. Her next comment would. "My family is Irish. I'm irish. At least, my heritage is. Does that satisfy you?" God knows why she's so prickly over the topic. Just something in the way he responded she supposes. She can almost bet his reaction to whose Kin she is will be similiar.

Vast Sat 01:45AM CST

An eyebrow lifts. For all his slumming, all his urban ghetto chic, he's never anything but Fang. The little things confirm it. The effortless arrogance of a gesture so small as this. The unwavering confidence. The ability to stand on a patch of land and own it by birthright. The hand that had scrubbed over his face is now the fist propped against his cheek, elbow to the back of the sofa. After a beat he reaches out with that same hand, stroking her hair back from her face. "Don't be offended. It's only fact. You have no pure breed. It doesn't detract from you." His hand strays lower, touching briefly the necklace he had just bought her. What had the price been? He hadn't even looked. Abruptly he draws his hand back and turns to face forward, leaning down, taking his pants off the floor and beginning to dress. "It's best if you left, Evie. Your tribe will not approve."

Evie Sat 01:53AM CST

She just stares at him. For a long, long minute. And the inner mantra [Don't cry. Don't let him see you cry. Don't show him you care.] doesn't seem to be helping. She doesn't respond to the caress. Just sits there for what seems likes an age. Feeling her chest aching. Her lips still slightly swollen dry. Her eyes seem to be stinging so suddenly. She stands after a minute and walks around the couch, bending over and carefully picking up her clothes. Sliding on her pants. Lifting a foot to slip on a sneaker. The necklace catches some faint light and glimmers. The tiny heart. She's not speaking. But oh God, you can feel every insecurity and fear breaking the surface and she suddenly feels too raw. To open. Is her pride so torn to shreds. She can feel her hands trembling. Her voice catching on some stupid word. Some syllable so that it's not as cool as she'd like. Damn her for looking so broken and lost. Elegant to the last stand, but her emotions are laying in shreds beneath his feet. "Right. I'm gonna go then. Just..find my other shoe." She's trembling. Trying to ignore the anger stirring. Her tribe. To hell with her tribe and his!

Vast Sat 02:02AM CST

"It's by the coffee table." He doesn't even have to look to tell her. He makes notes of such things even in the heat of passion; was he truly so cold, then? While she dresses, so does he, quietly and efficiently. As he does up the buckle on his belt he glances at her, offhanded. "Why don't you speak to them of it."

Evie Sat 02:08AM CST

"I don't need to speak to anyone about anything. No, it's pretty damn clear in my eyes." She's lashing out. Playing the stereotypical dumped female bitch card. How could she be so stupid? How many times did she repeat it to herself? Don't get emotionally invested. Of course he's going to hurt you. Idiot. She walks briskly to the coffee table, picks up the offending shoe and stays bend over for a minute. Her eyes--glittering jewels of exquiste pain-- shut for just that split second as she expells a shaky breath. Regains her composure and stands. Lifts her hands into her mane of golden hair a moment and undoes the clasp on the necklace. Pools the glimmering item in her hand and moves to hand it over to him. A very fine tremble to her outstretched arm. "I can't keep this. Take it back."

Vast Sat 02:17AM CST

He looks at the necklace. He looks at her. Very quietly then, "Do you really want to give back the only thing I ever gave you without expecting something in return?"

Evie Sat 02:25AM CST

Her eyes close. She squeezes shut the lashes and when a tear finally escapes the corner of one eye and tracks down over one flushed cheek she opens them and thrusts the necklace toward him again. Her hand making contact with his chest as she pushes it into him. She makes some soft sound. Something between a sigh and a groan. Her chin trembles just slightly as she turns her head away, the hair falling to hide her shameful tears. "For Gods sake. Just take it. please. I can't stand this." How easily she seems to crumble. To break. Though she's still standing tall. She's unravling within.

Vast Sat 02:36AM CST

Really, it was doomed from the start. Who hadn't seen this coming? The Fang and the Fianna -- one a tribe that would accept nothing but the most purebred; the other a tribe that would never willingly let go their kin. A prima ballerina and a motorcycle-riding bad boy. Who hadn't seen this coming? It wasn't going to be happily ever after. It wasn't even going to be ever after. And now it was time to wrap up the show. Thank you ma'am, it's been a great ride, but now it's over and we'll move on. But-- he doesn't take the necklace. He takes her face between his hands instead. In leather gloves his hands are soft, but strong; bare, they're calloused, and strong. Silver Fang or not, she'd be surprised at his choice of weaponry. He shakes her, once, sharply, and then -- immediately after -- wipes his thumb over her cheek. "No." (no?) "I'm not ready to finish with you yet." Yet. At least he makes no pretense. But if (when) this ends, it'll end on his terms, or hers - not on those of the tribes. Finally she places the color: his eyes are not the grey of smoke, nor the blue of mist. They're the exact shade of lightning's afterimage -- the blue/white ghostly hue that shines in the eye itself, in the mind, after a storm has come and struck and passed. That's the color, the rare and untouchable tone. He lets go her face, folds her hand over the necklace, by force if necessary. Then he shows her to the door. "Talk to your tribe." This is called command. "If you don't, I will. But they will be more sympathetic if they hear it from you. If they hear it from me, it's just another Silver Fang poaching their kin. Understand?" He hands her her jacket, holding it out for her to put on.

Evie Sat 02:47AM CST

She's guided to door. Stands there with the cold press of the necklace folded into her small fist. Her jacket accepted into the other. She takes it and stares at him for a long minute. Her eyes scanning his face for some sign, some indication of what's going on. Of where things stand between them. But instead she just takes that needed step closer and--oh, the heartbreaking gentleness of it--presses her lips to his. Imbuing him with one last faint impression of her touch and the soft sweetness of her vanilla scent. "I'll talk to them." Whispered into his earlobe, her body leaning into his, before she pulls back and looks at him a minute. Turns her back finally.