Love Games [Closed] - Printable Version

Love Games [Closed] - Printable Version

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Love Games [Closed] - megs - 11-17-2016

megs && saronym
can't stop wont stop

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 11-17-2016

Lanoria had been watching a man named Darcy Weatherfare for years. Darcy Weatherfare, she had often sighed his name to nobody at all. She practiced different emphases. A hard ‘D’ made her giggle endlessly. A round ‘ar’ felt full in her mouth. Dragging out the ‘e’ sound of the ‘y’ of his name like a lovers sigh.

Watching is sort of a loose way to describe Lanoria’s relationship to Darcy. Really she had been meddling. Big time. She saw her behaviors as minor adjustments, like a waiter straightening a fork to align it with a spoon. No harm, no foul. Whether Darcy would find her so called minor adjustments to his love life for years on end as harmless, well, that was yet to be known.

But Lanoria had grown impatient of late. Something about her fascination with Darcy had become too urgent. Too many adjustments needed lately. Perhaps he grew tired of the loneliness she thrust on him out of possessiveness for a mortal she shouldn’t have wanted for herself.

Oh well.

Perhaps it was the fact that keeping him in loneliness was more the vocation of a certain goddess of discord than the goddess of love. The cognitive dissonance that arose from her behaviors grated at her incessantly. She’d pondered over the remedy to the problem she’d created for a time that seemed endless. In mortal time, no more than a few seconds had passed during her brainstorm, and even that would be generous. So really, her solution was no more than a snap decision.

A snap decision to don physical form and pop into being in the home of the man she had essentially been stalking for years. Decades even.

And pop she did.

The last time she’d bothered taking physical form had been … a long, long time ago. She had no sense of the fashion of modern humans or of technology in general. So Lanoria appeared in the middle of Darcy’s living room at the crack of dawn one morning wearing nothing but a long flowing robe. A column shaped thing that hung off her shoulders and cinched fetchingly at the waist with pleats of sheer material rippling down over her legs. Fetching indeed. For a goddess. Or a Renaissance painting. She hadn’t even thought of shoes and landed barefoot on tiled floor.

Lanoria startled and an ‘oop’ kind of sound escaped her throat at the sensation of her skin on cold hard tile. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable as it was just surprising to feel anything at all. She pushed her skirts aside and wiggled bare toes on the floor. She hugged herself and ran her fingers over her own skin.

It felt good. Just to feel anything at all. Being a goddess could be so boring sometimes. She wanted things to happen to her for once. Not make things happen to others forever. Jealousy of mortals led gods and goddesses to do crazy things.

Lanoria didn't see her decision as 'crazy.' Quite the opposite.

In a sudden celebration of her good decision-making skills, Lanoria held her arms out and twirled around like a little girl trying to make her skirts billow. The careless act knocked a lamp from a nearby table and sent it crashing to the floor. Broken glass skittered across the tile. To the door ways and under the couch. It went everywhere. Lanoria, a sucker for dramatic gestures, clapped her hands over her ears at the sound as if it had been really offensive to her. It had certainly disrupted the peaceful quiet of the house.

“Oops.”

Lanoria bent to pick up the pieces of glass. She would just put it back together. Easy. With little care for the sharp edges she sliced the palm of her hand spilling bright red blood on the floor. The glass that had cut her was dropped and shattered into even smaller pieces. Her mouth gaped in horror at the pain. The pain.

“That really hurts.” She sounded genuinely surprised but stared at the blood leaking from her hand with some curiosity.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 11-18-2016

Darcy had fallen asleep at his desk. It wasn’t unusual for him since he saw no difference between falling asleep there or falling asleep in his bed. He felt the same lonely ache regardless of where he finally succumbed to unconsciousness. He saw no purpose in returning to a bed that was as empty as his heart, so he worked late into the night, occupying himself whatever asinine global conflict fell into his lap.

It wasn’t as if he had never known love. Well, he had certainly known the feeling of a woman in his bed, and on his desk and… other places. As for love, there had only ever been the once. Thinking of her now made him miss her, and then it made him a little angry, and then it made him a little guilty. He pushed the thoughts of her back down and replaced them with reconnaissance reports and woman from bars that looked nothing like her.

He woke with a start to the echoing ends of a crash coming from his living room. The sudden movement causing a sharp pain through his neck from the awkward position he’d been in. He groaned, pushing through the lingering grogginess and listening for a repeat of whatever noise has woken him. The exact sound of it had been lost to a dream; dreams of fire red hair and piercing green eyes. It had sounded closer, but for all he knew it could have come from outside.

Darcy dragged a hand over his face, felt the roughness of the beard across his cheeks, before pushing fingers into the softer dark brown undercut atop his head. Then he heard it again, clearer now in his awakened state and bringing him sharply into alertness. The sound of something shattering in the downstairs of his house. Had someone gotten inside? Why hadn’t the alarm been tripped? The soft glow of his desk lamp meant that the electricity hadn’t been cut.

The Commander General had come home straight from work and had immediately gone back to work. He was still dressed in his uniform, still had his handgun tucked into a shoulder holster hanging beneath his arm. He pushed away from the desk with careful deliberation. Measured and paced footsteps took him across the loft, he checked the open space of the floor below, but didn’t see anything that would immediately cause alarm.

It wasn’t until he came upon the living room that he realized something was amiss. Something being a figure bent over pieces of something on the dark tile flooring. He could see the shape of them easily in the dark, but it was hard to make out any details. He could not tell if it was a man or a woman; could not tell if they were armed. “Hey,” he said to draw their attention. His tone was even, but authoritative. “Who are you,” he asked, moving closer still, but didn’t draw his gun. “What are you doing in my house?”

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 11-19-2016

Lanoria made a fuss over her comparatively minor wound. Biting at her lip, she watched blood leak from the scrape on her palm. It felt like a tragedy. She was aware of movement in the house, the sound of boots on the floor. A growing presence as it approached her.

He was addressing her. He was addressing her. Her Darcy. His voice didn’t boom but the baritone cut through the silence and filled the space around her. She had heard his voice before but it wasn’t the same as when the sound waves actually reverberated around her.

Her head shot up away from the wound that still bled and she rose suddenly to her full height. Robes swirled around her legs and feet. She padded on bare feet towards him, her robes caught broken glass and dragged it with her.

“Darcy!”

She held her hands out as if she were incoming for an embrace. Where she got the idea that she could hug a man whose home she’d entered without permission waking him up by breaking his things is a mystery.

“I came to-”

As she stepped her foot caught more glass slicing her heel. “Ouch.” She stumbled forward and caught herself shakily on a bookcase. Bloodied hand slipped and knocked books and a picture from the case. “That really hurts.” She was practically whining her pain at him.

Lanoria was still adjusting to maneuvering in a physical form. She wasn’t a quick learner either.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 11-19-2016

He flicked on a nearby light switch and the wash of light revealed a woman. Dark haired and crouched on his floor, cradling something in her hand. Brown eyes flickered quickly over the scene. Swathes of near translucent robes. A broken lamp. Drops of blood on the floor. She moved as if she were surprised to see him, but not in the manner of someone who’d been caught intruding in a home.

She walked towards him and he took matching steps backwards, holding one hand out to ward her off. A needless gesture as she picked up shattered glass with her bare foot, stumbling against the shelf of books. He didn’t move to help her; his training having not quite kicked in in response to this particular home invasion.

She had said his name. He didn’t know her, so how did she know his name. Did he have a stalker? Isn’t this why he had a security detail? Expressly in place to intercept things like this. Darcy watched as she whined in a collapse of books and other things that had been lining his shelf. He reached for his cell phone, but paused, not knowing who he would call regardless.

“Just...stop moving,” he advised. “Before you... hurt yourself more.” He left her on the ground to walk into his kitchen. He wet a cloth in the sink and returned to where he’d left her. He knelt down, moving aside pictures of his god children, their families and assorted friends to move only as close to her as he needed to access her injuries.

He took her hand without asking, and pressed the cloth to it. She was in his house without asking, so he sort of felt that gave him the right. His mouth was a thin line, lips pressed tight together; brow furrowed. His breathing was even, but he overall seemed to be very annoyed. “How did you get in here,” he demanded, holding her hand closer to judge the severity of the wound.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 11-19-2016

Lanoria blinked at the sudden flooding of light. She shielded her eyes with her uninjured hand as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Though she couldn’t see very well she made her way towards him and wasn’t careful enough to avoid the dangerous shards of glass that littered the floor.

She approached and he backed away like she were some predator and he the prey. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she could see him. So tall and broad. Golden eyes illuminated by the light. He was the predator looking one not she. So large and strong. And that’s precisely what she liked about him. Or one of the things she liked about him.

Obedient to his command she stayed remarkably still when he left her to disappear somewhere in the house. She let him walk away and listened closely to hear the sounds of his continued presence in the domicile. Lanoria was more than willing to let him take her injured hand. Her lips parted but she withheld a sigh by biting down on her lower lip. Without permission, the fingers of her uninjured hand moved to trace over the mountains and valleys of his knuckles. His skin there felt somewhat rough. Just as she’d expected it to.

“Oh I just came in.” A snap of her fingers as a demonstration of her entry as if that explained anything to him. A glint off the glass of a picture she’d knocked over caught Lanoria’s eye and attention. A picture of Julianna and Owen at their wedding.

An involuntary sound like a whimper escaped her lips as she stared at the picture their love seeming to emanate from the object. She brushed her fingers over the glass. “Oh Julianna. She was so happy.” She whispered this more to herself, distracted, remembering the day.

The flutter in Julianna’s heart as she walked down the aisle. The flip of Owen’s stomach and his gaze determined not to leave his betrothed as she made her way to him. Their promise of commitment and devotion. The quiet and firmness of Owen's voice saying "I do" in front of all their friends and loved ones. It made the hair on her arms raise. She could almost taste the sweetness of their kiss. It had been a great victory for Lanoria. And a great expression of her power. She’d remember lording it over the others as a trophy of her prowess.

Lanoria was suddenly aware she’d snapped out of the present moment and glanced up at the man tending to her. “Do you remember when they got married?” Of course he did. It hadn't even been that long ago. Not that Lanoria had any concept of the way mortals experienced time.

The idea that Darcy would be more concerned about a home invasion than a trip down memory lane was not one that occurred to Lanoria. She had no concept that she might be intruding.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 12-14-2016

Her fingers brushed across his skin, and Darcy pulled his hand away from her. Forgetting that he was in the middle of a task as soon as she touched him. A reaction, like he had been burned, and it left him hesitant to touch her again. His hand took hers, still welling with blood, once more, and his returned the cloth to the wound. “Hold this,” he instructed, releasing the fabric when her fingers closed around it. “Wait - what do you mean, you just came in?” asked as he moved towards her feet, like he’d just heard her explanation. A strange woman in strange robes breaking into his house, and then breaking this things.

His brow was furrowed in a mix of concern and concentration as he took her foot by the heel. He was careful not to touch her any higher than her ankle. There was a piece of glass embedded in her foot that was roughly the size of his thumb. Darcy couldn’t decide if she wasn’t aware of her injuries, or if she just didn’t care. He plucked the shard from her skin with no resistance. The small noise she made drew his attention.

Darcy watched her touch the shattered image as if it were something precious to her. He remembered the wedding because he had been there, this woman...had not. He frowned, reaching over to move the painting out of her reach. If for no other reason than she might cut herself again. Shifting his weight, Darcy moved to circle one arm around her lower back, the other hooked beneath her knees. He lifted her from the ground, easily and once again without asking. Content to do with her as he pleased as long as she was trespassing in his home.

He dropped her on the couch, and knelt in front of her. He spoke softly, and evenly. Like he was talking to a small child, or a mental patient. He didn’t touch her any further, he kept a steady gaze on her from his position on the floor. “What’s your name?”

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 12-17-2016

Though certainly not used to human emotions just yet, Lanoria could discern at this point that she had greatly upset Darcy. He jerked away from her touch as if she were acidic to him. He seemed...flustered.

Perhaps more, worried?
Afraid?
Was he afraid of her?

She once again obeyed the instructions to hold the cloth against her throbbing wound. A frown furrowed her brow as she considered how to explain to Darcy exactly how she’d entered his house. Should she start with the part about assuming a physical form? How could she describe this in terms a mortal would understand? There was no scientific for even magical explanation that she could give to him as to how a goddess busted through the universe and into his home. So she didn't offer one. Better not to confuse him any further.

“I don’t know. I just did. There weren’t any barriers to my entry.” It wasn’t like his house was on some plane she couldn’t cross into.

She was trying not to focus on the pain coming from her foot and turned her attention to the picture of Julianna and Owen. Darcy took it from her without answering her question as to whether he remembered the wedding or not. Suddenly Lanoria was leaving the floor. In Darcy’s arms. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face against his collar as he carried her. A dream come true.

Just as soon as it started the dream was over as she was essentially unloaded onto the couch. Lanoria huffed at him in frustration. Her hands rearranged the gauzy robes around her legs. She pet the wrinkles out with her uninjured hand. When satisfied with her appearance, she cradled the injured hand and pouted at Darcy. Certainly acting the part of child.

“My name is Lanoria.” She offered. “I wanted to finally meet you, Darcy. You seem so lonely. I thought I might cheer you up.” Her assessment of his internal state of loneliness seemed to wound her. Her brows drew together in a concerned kind of grimace.

She tucked her hair behind an ear revealing several glittering studs along the lobe and into the cartilage. “Don’t be angry with me about the lamp. It was an accident.” Quickly she moved on, asking his forgiveness for breaking something so easily replaced. An apology for entering his home without permission did not follow or even occur to her.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 01-07-2017

Darcy looked around the room. She claimed that there had been no barriers to her entrance. There were certainly a ton of fucking barriers that should have barred her entrance. He would have to make a note to check his windows and doors for signs of her intrusion. He would then have to double check his security systems, perhaps call Renton to check his security cameras. Darcy was distracted for a moment as his mind drifted to the young technical analyst in question. A ghost of a smile flitted across his features, until he remembered his situation and he was frowning again.

He pushed his hand through his hair, a neat undercut that left the side of his head nearly bare and a unruly fall of soft brown hair over his brow. He sighed, looking away from her. His eyes snapped back to her visage when he gave her name. “Lanoria?” he repeated. Lips pressed together, his tongue could be seen drifting across his canine despite his closure. He scrubbed at his face. Why did that name sound so familiar? He scoffed as it came to him. “Like the Eskran goddess?” He chuckled as she stood, pacing the small space in front of the couch. He paused to look at her, and laughed again. Shaking his head.

Surely, she didn’t think she was a goddess. The name certainly had to be an unfortunate moniker placed upon her by some foolish family member. He turned to her, hands heavy on his hips. He stared her down. “I don’t care about the lamp,” he snapped. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Why are you trespassing in my home?”

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 03-02-2017

When he correctly identified her as the deity, her head bobbed eagerly, causing dark curls to bounce around her shoulders. With a sweep of her hand, she brushed her hair behind her and gathered it together over one shoulder in a way she imagined was attractive. “Yep. That’s me. In the flesh.”

Lanoria gazed up at the man frowning down at her with his hands on his hips like an angry father. She’d witnessed him assume that pose with unruly Hart children. It left her with the impression that he was truly unhappy with her.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She said in reference to the broken lamp.

“I came here to be with you Darcy.” She admitted as she pushed herself to a standing position. “You’ve been lonely.” She tapped her index finger lightly on his chest over his heart. “You deserve to be happy.” Her hand flattened against his chest and she smoothed her finger over the muscled plane. Lanoria took another step closer to him, gazing up at him through her lashes. Her lips parted and she stood expectantly awaiting the kiss she imagined he would give her to seal their love.

The goddess had very little concept of how people fell in love or an appropriate timeline for such a relationship to develop. Five minutes seemed long enough for her.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 05-12-2017

When he had said like the Eskran goddess, he had not meant to imply that he thought she was the goddess. But there she was, confirming the notion that she thought she was celestial being. Which in turn, confirmed to Darcy that she was insane. He sighed and closed his eyes, one hand lifting to pinch the skin on the bridge of his nose. What had he done in his life to have his home broken into by a delusional woman wearing a sheet. He opened his eyes again and waved his hand. “I don’t care about the lamp,” he tried to say but she was standing.

She was standing and saying more ridiculous things and touching him. He did not care for that. He tried to push her hand away, but she moved closer, all but pressing the length of her body against his. He sighed again and pointedly looked away from her, as if refusing to acknowledge or encourage her. He kept his hands out and away from her.

What did she know about his being lonely? He wasn’t lonely. He was perfectly fine. He was happy. At least, he was pretty sure he was.

“Look,” he put his hands on her waist, but only to push her a step away from him. “You need to go home,” he explained gently, as if talking to a child. “Do you know where you live? Is there anyone I can call for you?”

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 05-23-2017

She closed her eyes and pressed her hands over his when he touched her waist. The feeling of him was pure bliss, better than she’d ever thought. But it was gone again, and there was space between them again. Too much space.

She pouted.

“I can’t just go.” She whined.

It was more or less not true. She could kind of do whatever she wanted. And she didn’t want to leave.

“No.” She answered to both questions.

“I was planning on staying here. With you.” She took a step back towards him, reached up, and tapped her index finger on his nose. She then flounced to the couch and flopped onto it with a swish of sheer fabric. She brought her legs up and criss crossed them under her. She arranged her skirts around her legs to maintain propriety for his sake.

When she was finished fiddling she gazed up at him, expectantly.

“It’s you who needs someone.” She added for good measure. “You can’t pine after Ishara forever, Darcy. She’s gone. You have to let her go; move on. You have to let yourself love again.” It didn’t occur to her that speaking of he and Ishara and his potential feelings for a long-dead woman would be even more unsettling for the poor man. She said it all matter-of-factly.

“Sorlisle won that round.” She said, blackly. "But I'm here to settle the score. With you."

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 05-25-2017

Darcy sighed heavily when she continued to deny that there was somewhere else she could be. His face was a neutral mask of displeasure, but he stared hard down at her. He was still trying to decide if she was just a lunatic. He didn’t know what the other options would be for a woman that had broken into his home, claiming she was a goddess and was now insisting on staying with him.

He blinked rapidly when she tapped his nose.

Sighing, he scratched at his beard when she settled back onto the couch. He turned away from her, his hand moving to the back of his neck as he tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He was more or less at a loss of what to do. He couldn’t think of anywhere he was comfortable dropping her off at in the middle of the night. He suddenly felt responsible for him somehow, it was probably because of the way she kept saying that she was here for him, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

He rounded on his heel to face where when she claimed that he was the one who needed someone. Brow furrowed over warm amber eyes. They way she had arranged herself made her look as if she was posing. Pretty and poised like a painting. There was no denying that Lanoria was beautiful; she certainly was, but whoever she was, Darcy didn’t know her.

And she wasn’t doing herself any favors, by bringing up Ishara.

His gaze turned cold. His countenance changed in such a way that made him appear as if he were an entirely different person. A very hurt, and very angry person. “Shut up,” he demanded, and he did not look apologetic for his harsh tone. He had never told anyone of the feelings he had long harbored for the deceased woman. And now this stranger thought she could sweep in and disrupt his life. Sorting through his secrets and suggesting she knew how to handle them. Let her go. Move on. Lanoria made it sound so easy. As if he hadn’t been trying for over two decades.

Darcy shook his head and sliced a hand through the air as if her words were a physical thing he could scare off with the motion. “Do not talk about Ishara,” he commanded with a growl, before scrubbing a hand over his face.

Without another word, Darcy stormed out of the living room, leaving the strange robed woman on her own for a few minutes. He could be heard rummaging through the hall closet. He returned with a blanket and an extra pillow. He dumped them next to Lanoria on the couch.

“I can’t deal with this, with you, right now,” he explained with an air of exasperation. “You can sleep on the couch tonight, and I will find away to deal with you in the morning.’

RE: Love Games [Closed] - saronym - 06-09-2017

Lanoria startled when Darcy’s voice changed as he made harsh demands of her to ‘shut up.’ Nobody talked to her that way. Especially not some man. A being that was less than her who should be more appreciative of the services she was offering him.

She crossed her arms protectively under her breasts. The action was more like hugging herself. The mortal world was harder than she remembered. It hurt and was uncomfortable. And her plan wasn’t going as expected.

When he invited her to stay on his couch, in his home, her face lit up. All transgressions he had committed just moments ago were forgotten and forgiven. She flopped down onto the couch and wiggled down into the cushions making herself quite at home as she beamed up at him.

“Wonderful. Thank you Darcy.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’ll be very comfortable here.”

She sprang up from the couch as if something occurred to her. Rushing to Darcy, she took his hand and jerked on it. A request that he bend. She stood on toes and pressed a kiss against his bearded cheek. “Good night, darling.” She said before returning to her previous place on the couch.

RE: Love Games [Closed] - megs - 08-18-2017

Darcy didn’t like the way she appeared to forgive him too easily. It put a weight of responsibility on him that he wasn’t quite comfortable harboring when it came to a breaking and entering stranger that wasn’t in her right mind.

When Lanoria popped up from the couch, Darcy stepped away from her as if she were more dangerous than a tiny woman who was pulling on his hand to press her mouth to his cheek. Other than the slight lean that was forced into him by her tugging, he didn’t react to that misplaced, affectionate gesture. Darcy heard himself saying “good night” to her. Something automatic and hollow sounding in his ears. A polite reaction to her own farewell.

Turning abruptly on his heel he walked away from her, using the flat of his hand to slap light switches off as he moved through the house. The house fell into darkness more or less, save for a light in the kitchen that had been left on. It spilled into the living room with a soft glow that was expected to be enough for Lanoria to deal with through the night. In his own room, Darcy didn’t bother turning the lights on. He shuffled through the familiar darkness until his knees met the edge of his bed. Climbing across the sheets and blankets, he dropped his head onto one of the many pillows shoved at the head of the bed.

After about an hour or so of silent ruminating, staring at the blank wall across from him, Darcy fell asleep. Fully clothed and on top of the bed sheets.