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+---- Thread: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride (/showthread.php?tid=11336)
If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Colt - 05-15-2025
She awakes with a gasp, not remembering going to sleep, not remembering...well much at all, now that she tries to think about what she'd just been doing. She'd been bordering on a meltdown, mad and tired and everything in-between, but she'd still been tucked on his back, still aware. This feels like waking up passed out behind the House of Midnight after she tried to drink a memory to death.
She tilts her head back, a throb drifting along it with a starburst that she pinches her eyes against with a groan. [say]"The fuck happened,"[/say] she rasps, and goes to pull the sheet of hair from her face. Except, she can't. She tugs, but her hand sways in the loop of a vine. Not just her hand, she realizes quickly, most of her is tangled and snared in green foliage. She yanks down and it tightens, pressing slick and firm against her skin. [say]"Fuck me,"[/say] she sighs, testing each roll and tilt of her to find the least tangled and work backwards from there.
[say]"VES!"[/say] she calls out into the overgrown void, one boot lifted and shaking off a snare. Bits of the chaos float back to her, but she doesn't know when or why they got separated, and can only hope he's in better shape.
RE: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Vesper - 05-15-2025
He wakes face-down in moss, and for a second, Vesper doesn’t move. Doesn’t open his eyes. His ribs are sore, like he’s been tossed by something larger than himself, and his mouth tastes like salt and crushed leaves. His shadows are sluggish at his feet, clinging like mist that hasn’t yet remembered how to slither. There’s blood in his mouth—he thinks it’s his—and something sticky trailing from the corner of his jaw. The air is thick with perfume: sweet, cloying, and sharp in the back of his throat.
A low groan escapes him as he shifts, shoulder protesting, and he rolls slowly onto his side. Humidity curls along his spine like breath, and the throb behind his eyes pulses with every heartbeat. He doesn’t know what hit them—but it hit hard.
Colt’s voice cuts through the jungle like a whip, and he’s moving before his body finishes catching up. His shift is long gone—burned out by whatever dreamscape or voidshit left him like this—but he staggers to his feet anyway, bracing a hand against the wide trunk of a knotted tree slick with sap. His curls cling wet and wild to his cheeks. His shirt is torn at the hem, one sleeve entirely gone. His boots are caked in mud and bruised petals.
[say]"Yeah,"[/say] he rasps, voice cracked and hoarse. [say]"I’m here."[/say]
He shoves off the tree and stumbles forward, following the faint tug of her voice and her thoughts—a dim thrum, distant, buried beneath a film of poison pollen and whatever psychic static still hangs in the air like aftershocks. It takes him a minute, ducking low branches and stepping over carnivorous vines with their too-hungry mouths, before he finally spots her, tangled like a fly in an overgrown snare.
A low whistle escapes him, and the smirk that follows is more bruised than amused. [say]"Well shit, darlin',"[/say] he drawls, voice fraying at the edges. [say]"You’re lookin’ a little tied up at the moment."[/say] He moves in, slow and cautious, shadows beginning to stir again around his ankles. [say]"Hold still. I got you."[/say] His shadows curl around her, lifting slightly to ease some of the tension as he fishes for a knife out of his pocket and begins to cut.
RE: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Colt - 05-15-2025
Her foot manages to slide out from the knotted mess with careful angling and shifting. It's only a part of her free, but the victorious surge of it is enough to give her some more breath back, and some new leverage to work on the rest. She stomps down on the overgrown garden by her other foot, heel scraping along the edge of her pantleg to try and peel it away, to crush it into something weak enough to snap. It's then that his answer drifts from out of sight, and it's an immediate relief, despite the fact he sounds as worn out as she feels. All the strain she had on the verdant ties softens as she sags against them instead, exhaling a quiet thanks into the maddening brush. She takes a moment to regain her strength, like it's work to pull it out of the slog its sunken into, something thicker than heat and travel.
His whistle cuts the air and she tilts her head back up, ignoring the way her thoughts slosh with the motion, like it's always been a snowglobe up there. She laughs at his remark, the sound thin and broken, too weak to fully embrace the humor. [say]"Yeah, just a bit,"[/say] she admits with a half-smile, amber eyes glancing askew at his own bedraggled state. [Say]"You look like you pissed off a tailor."[/say] Smiling hurt. Probably didn't end up on the ground in any graceful or soft manner.
Hold still. I got you.
Likely the echo of whatever toxin remains is what sends a flutter up her chest, not the steady way he threads into the weeds with her, not the way that eventide of his winds around her with all the same shape of the vines but none of its stifling intent. She sighs as he begins to saw her out of it, [say]"thanks."[/say] There's too much to that word for it to properly carry it all.
[say]"Can't wait to get the fuck out of here."[/say]
RE: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Vesper - 05-15-2025
Vesper glances down at his torn shirt, then up at her with a flash of that crooked smile—one side tugging up like he’s in on a joke she hasn’t told yet. [say]"You don't like it?"[/say] he drawls, tugging at the ragged hem as though modelling it.
He ducks to free a tangled vine from around her boot, sawing through it with slow precision. [say]"You know what spooked us back there?"[/say] he asks, far too casually for given he'd been the goddamn horse at the time. [say]"Last thing I remember was headin’ for that bit of water we found. Next? Nothin’. Like someone pulled the plug."[/say]
His shadows slink through the undergrowth, brushing lightly along her thighs to free the worst of the growth while he straightens and steps in close. His shoulder presses to hers as he slides an arm low around her waist, anchoring her against him. [say]"C’mon,"[/say] he murmurs. [say]"Wrap your legs 'round me. It'll take the strain off, let you wiggle free."[/say] His voice stays quiet, plain as anything—and maybe in different circumstances he’d twist a line like that for fun, but sweat-soaked and half-dead as they both were, with her legs already wrapped around him for what felt like half a damn week, Vesper doesn’t think twice about it.
His breath huffs against her as he returns to work, blade slipping clean through another twist of green. When she mutters about wanting to get the fuck out, he glances over with mock surprise, brow lifting. [say]"What? You’re tellin’ me you haven’t been enjoyin’ yourself?"[/say] He slices another vine, looking back to her with theatrical disbelief. [say]"And here I thought this was your idea of a good time—dust, heatstroke, hallucinogenic jungle snares. Real romance novel type of shit."[/say]
RE: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Colt - 05-16-2025
Her nose wrinkles with the effort of thought, [say]"I've been wonderin' myself."[/say] There's a low edge of disappointment, that frustration from earlier turning inwards with a slow trickle as she tries to peer past the fog that lingers in her mind. It's both a relief and annoying as hell that he seems to be in the same state.
[say]"I don't think it was water. Something about it was off...like the seams of it didn't match."[/say] Some broken puzzle piece that she'd flipped the table over for. She pauses as she considers further, the memory like catching glimmers through smoke. She gives a sly, rueful smile, the pain worth it for the moment. [say]"Pretty sure I kicked you to get us out of there."[/say] If there's an apology that should slide in there, she doesn't offer it.
Bit by bit, with shadow and knife, cords fall away under his command. Each severed line feels like the artery of the jungle being slashed, its pulse weakening with each loss, the hammering of its heart growing quieter against her. The press of his arm against her back is something she can lean into, something solid that doesn't burn or prickle like the waffle-iron pattern of the vines.
She's wordless as she listens to his bidding, focusing only on the outcome, eager to be free. She hoists her legs around him as instructed, abdomen rippling wearily with the effort, boots kicking up off the ground and slipping over each other behind his hips to lock them there. It's easy, like she's pressed into him dozens of times, like he's always been there at her side through these tangling moments in life. The trip here has been its own lifetime, so it feels, cutting away any lingering reservations with each bead of sweat. At least, for now, while they're still here, still surrounded with humidity and danger.
Something else breaks under his careful hand and she feels it slide away from under the topside of her. An eyeroll greets his jest, lips quirking in the faintest upturn. [say]"Dust and heatstroke maybe,"[/say] she admits with a short, dry laugh, because that much at least did tend to be most of her summertime experience at the ranch. [say]"The jungle snares were not on the list though."[/say] She glances up at him with a curious lift of one 'brow.
[say]"Yeah, and just what do you know of romance novels? This might work...but there's usually got to be one night where only one bed is available. You also don't quite fit the part,"[/say] she glances over him with faux-seriousness, as if inspecting him for the first time. [say]"Your shadows are a nice touch, but you don't have any wings, or mind-reading abilities. No enemies to lovers situation either,"[/say] she clucks her tongue like she's found him disappointing for the role. [say]"Guess this is just a bad choose your own adventure ending instead."[/say]
RE: If you're gonna run with me it's gonna be a wild ride - Vesper - 05-16-2025
He doesn’t flinch at the mention of her kick—hell, he barely shrugs, knife still working. [say]"Long as we made it out in one piece,"[/say] he drawls, [say]"you can kick me all you like."[/say] And judging by the battered but breathing state of both of them, they'd done just that.
His hand flattens against the small of her back, fingers splayed in a slow starburst to hold her steady, the motion easy, instinctive. [say]"Not surprised,"[/say] he murmurs, voice low and amused, [say]"that bein’ tied up ain’t really your thing."[/say] There’s a curve to his mouth, crooked and knowing, the kind that says he’s thinking of a half-dozen off-colour comebacks but letting them slide for now.
At her quip about romance novels, he raises both brows. [say]"I’ve got two sisters,"[/say] he reminds her, as if that explains everything. [say]"One of ’em reads those damn things like they’re sacred texts. Glittery covers. Shirtless men with swords. Whole thing."[/say] His grin tilts sharper, pale eyes catching hers. [say]"And I might have wings. Might even be able to read minds."[/say] He glances at her, smile wolfish. [say]"But I wouldn’t tell you that until at least chapter ten. Right when I’m bleedin’ out somewhere, whisperin’ my tragic backstory between gasps."[/say]
The last vine snaps, and he meets her gaze with a glint of laughter. [say]"Knew I shoulda been meaner to you when we met."[/say]
If this was one of those books, maybe he would’ve held her there a while longer. Maybe dragged her down into the moss and let the poisonous plants worry about themselves. As it is, though, he can feel his blood pressure tanking—sun, sweat, and the effort of holding his arm up for too long. So instead of a swoon-worthy line, Vesper stumbles a step, bracing his hand against a nearby tree to keep them both from toppling over. He sways once, breath hissing between his teeth.
[say]"Lets get back to the part where we get the fuck outta here, mm?"[/say]
~FIN