you've always been here, haven't you?

View previous topic View next topic Go down

you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  Dahmer Oriel on Fri Jan 03, 2014 12:55 am




AHAHAHA. Dexter is pretty much all black, right? So he needs a new name. A BLACK name. SO. Starting tomorrow, Dexter's new name is Kentavious Caldwell-Pope. Which is like. One of the blackest names ever. So you're WELCOME.



If some wolf had taken Dahmer aside a month ago and told him just how amazing things would be for him in the future, he would have questioned the guy's sanity. And then probably punched him in the face for telling lies and teasing him. Yet here he was. He leaned back in his chair, letting the book slide further down his lap as his attention became fixated elsewhere. Sherlock's violin was propped carefully in her chair, where the female had left it a few hours earlier before taking off for her daily walk. She had asked if he wanted to accompany her, but Dahmer politely declined. The male had spent the morning reading while Sherlock played, and he found himself in the middle of a very compelling chapter and had no interest in putting the book aside. Besides, she'd never say it; but Dahmer knew that Sherlock looked forward to her solitary walks. Sometimes the male would go along with his partner, and the two would spend a pleasant hour or two strolling along with no particular direction in mind, just the fits and bursts of conversation to follow their progress. But today their conversations were put on hold, with the promise of them meeting up later in the evening. It didn't matter what went on during the day, whether it was spent together or passed with their solitary pursuits: the two of them always met up before the end of the day, right beneath the tree that had bore witness to their fight so many weeks before. Dahmer had vowed never to go near that place again, at least not without chopping down the offending tree and maybe setting the rest of the area on fire. Which just went to show how completely things could change. The place was sacred to him now.

Dahmer gave the violin an appreciative, fond smile before pushing the book off his lap. It fell between the cushion and the chair's arm rest as the massive male got to his feet. Running a paw over his head and scratching the back of his neck, he slowly made his way to the window. As he gazed beyond the glass and into the snow, Dahmer briefly regretted opting out of the walk. He studied the path that Sherlock had taken, debating whether or not he wanted to go after her. It was odd. Being with her didn't lessen how much he missed her whenever Sherlock wasn't around. Even though he knew he wouldn't go a day without spending time with her, the female's absence still caused a sharp ache somewhere in his chest. It remained until she was by his side again. It used to be almost impossible to ignore (and face it, he'd had a lot of practice trying to over the duration of their partnership), but now he found it a little easier to put aside in order to go about his own business.  Spending time with her was no longer a happy coincidence, or a result of Sherlock just being bored, needing someone to bounce ideas off whenever her skull wasn't enough. She wanted to. She had chosen him. She loved him. It was still unbelievable. Every morning he expected to wake up alone with nothing but the crushing realization that it was all a dream, but she was always there. He would move closer, gently nosing the spot at the bottom of her ear and side of her neck. She'd stir slightly, and he'd nudge her a few more times before giving in to the increasingly threatening grumbles his behaviour elicited. Sherlock did not like being woken before she was ready. But he couldn't help himself, it was impossible. The novelty of being the one she woke up with every morning was something he didn't think he'd ever get over. Looking at her wasn't enough. He had to be as close as possible, he had to touch her just to make sure that it was all real. It was. So were the threats she made that became increasingly violent and theatrical as the mornings passed.

A soft laugh broke the silence as he went over this morning's threats, and Dahmer decided that maybe some time alone was best for the black female. It wasn't easy for her, he knew that. As amazing as the last few weeks had been, they weren't entirely perfect. He was aware of how hard this all was for her. She was desperately trying to make it seem easy, and a part of Dahmer was heartbroken that it was so difficult for her. But that was who Sherlock was. It was her nature. He knew that. It would have been so much easier and simple for him to have fallen in love with any other wolf. Basic relationship things that were trials for Sherlock would come natural with any other couple. But it didn't matter. He didn't want any other wolf. He wanted her. She was the one.  She had taken his hand back in the woods, trusting him to bring the both of them through whatever this was. He could see that she was terrified, and yet she followed, allowed him to take the lead. Then she spent the night with him, and everything was changed forever.

They were taking it day by day, and slowly but surely, Sherlock was adjusting. Dahmer wasn't expecting a miraculous change. He knew he wouldn't wake up one morning to find her completely different and willing to express her love for him in simple, easy ways. Rome wasn't built in a day. The empire's progress was measured in millimeters, over eons. And while he wasn't exactly expecting Sherlock to take a million years to come around, he was willing to wait. Besides, she wasn't supposed to change much at all. He loved her, his Sherlock. So he waited. He was understanding and calm, willing to take whatever she was capable of offering. What mattered was that she tried. She no longer saw her love for him as a weakness, as some sort of illness she needed to get over. She acknowledged it and was willing to move forward. But as much as the female made sarcastic quips and jokes about it all, he could tell just how hard it was for her sometimes. Dahmer Oriel wasn't adept at reading others like Sherlock, but he was an expert at reading her. Whenever it seemed as though she was becoming overwhelmed with it all, he would pull back and give her the space he knew she needed. He was nonchalant and played it off, determined not to let her know how much it hurt him sometimes. He understood, but it still stung. Still, as difficult as it could be some days, he had no regrets. He just hoped she felt the same way.

He turned his back on the window and headed back to his chair, intending to plunge back into the world of his book. Sherlock's violin caught his eyes instead, and he gently removed it from its resting place. He ran his finger along the highly polished instrument's neck. A rueful smile pulled at his lips as he remembered the one time he had attempted to play the instrument himself. The look on Sherlock's face was priceless and he hadn't known whether to laugh or find himself intensely offended. Sherlock did not mince words. And apparently being played badly was almost as bad for the violin as not tuning it...or smashing it against a rock. The male shook his head at the memory, returning the violin to Sherlock's chair for a moment while he grabbed its case. With his luck, he'd somehow manage to break the damn thing while just sitting there. And there went his happy ending. She'd be finished with him in seconds. He packed the violin away carefully, placing it in its felt home alongside the bow. The male made sure both instrument and case were safely put in their place before returning to his chair.

Once he gave the book his undivided attention, Dahmer became completely unaware of his surrounding for the next few hours. The afternoon passed quickly in this manner, what little sun the winter days possessed slipping behind the trees. As the cottage fell into darkness, and he could no longer see the pages, Dahmer slowly emerged from his reverie. He glanced up in surprise, confused as to how quickly the time appeared to pass. He sighed softly and lifted himself out of his chair. He stretched his cramping muscles as he moved to the front door, side stepping a table he didn't remember being there before. A quick glance outside told him that he still had a little bit before he needed to head out to meet Sherlock. Just enough time to start a fire, maybe tidy up a little.

After a trip out to the wood shed he'd built before the snow came, Dahmer had enough lumber to last the next day or so. He stacked it carefully against the wall, then turned his attention to the fireplace. With expert ease, the former assassin piled a mixture of kindling and scrap paper before lighting it with a match. He watched the small fire carefully, blowing gently and feeding the flames small bits of wood. Before long it was hungry and big enough to manage a decent sized log. He placed it carefully and when that, too caught fire, the werewolf's job was complete for the time being. By the time Sherlock and he returned, they'd have a warm and inviting fire. Speaking of returning with Sherlock... His thoughts trailed off as he gazed about the cabin's main room. It was a little cluttered, he had neglected to tidy it the last few days. While Sherlock didn't really mind the mess, it was almost unthinkable for Dahmer to have left it so long. Sherlock preferred to have an uncluttered mind. While the male appreciated that, he also preferred to have a clutter-free home. He sprung to his feet, and gathered the books that had been stacked on the table beside his chair. He placed them on his bookshelf and moved toward Sherlock's own table. Grabbing his books that were left there, he returned to the shelf and began returning each volume to its place. Soon the entire shelf was full and the male still had several books still in his arms. That was odd. He hadn't gone looking for any books as of late, had he? If anything, he realized, there should be quite a few open spaces on the shelf. He remembered lending Ghost at least ten or so books the other day. Where were they all coming from? As he turned to look about the room for any other books, Dahmer's eyes fell on the table he had almost run into earlier. Since when had that been there? And...why was it full of Sherlock's chemistry stuff? She didn't do her experiments here. At least, she never had before. It was true that she had been spending a great deal of time here – now that he thought of it, the two of them had spent every night here fore the past few weeks. He had just assumed that Sherlock stopped by her own place to do her own things every time she went away for the afternoon.

But what was she going home to do? All of her essential stuff was right here! Her books, her old Bureau gear, her notebooks and all the chemistry equipment. Hell, even the microscope he had modified for her was right there on that table! The large male shook his head, pale blue eyes studying his home with wonder. How long had this been going on? And why hadn't Sherlock said anything? He was baffled. No, no. Maybe it was just because she was spending so much time here. He really was taking up all of her time. No wonder she brought her work here. How else was she supposed to get it done? Well, he could fix that. He'd give her more space and then she'd be able to pursue her work back where she was comfortable. Sherlock needn't uproot her entire life just to keep him happy. He could help her bring all her stuff back tomorrow, assuming the decent weather remained. Even if it didn't, he'd do it to make her happy. It shouldn't take long. With her help, maybe one trip? They could pack away her science equipment in the sled he had built and there'd be plenty of room for  her books and her....mission slips? Wait, what? Dahmer crossed the room in a flash, perusing the wall with intensity.

From the beginning of their partnership, Dahmer had kept souvenirs from every mission the two of them went on. Sherlock followed soon after. Dahmer did it in order to remember the time he spent with her, while Sherlock enjoyed keeping mementos from a job well done. Whether it was the original assassination order written about their target or some random object that represented a break in the case, Sherlock meticulously collected her souvenirs. Dahmer had made her frames and displays for all of these possessions and now here they were, a multitude of memories in boxes. There was no need for Sherlock to have them here, even if this was where she was doing all her work and research. Unless...Dahmer felt as though his thoughts were moving through molasses. It was baffling. He had his hypothesis and evidence to back it, but the male just couldn't come to a conclusion. It never occurred to him to ask Sherlock to move in with him. He hadn't even thought it was an option. She needed her space. She needed a place to retreat to, to gather herself and pursue her research. As much as Sherlock loved Dahmer, he always assumed that she'd prefer to live alone. And he had come to terms with that as best he could. He understood how it could be. But now....it appeared as thought he didn't understand at all!

Several moments of deep thought later, and Dahmer still couldn't decide what he made of it. As he ran along the path that would take him to their place, the male decided that it was probably best just to straight out ask her. He arrived a little while later, slightly breathless as a result of shifting. He had been late leaving the cabin and traveling on two legs wasn't quick enough. Fully in his wolf form, Dahmer paced through the snow as he waited for Sherlock to arrive.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

avatar
Dahmer Oriel
Admin

Posts : 22
Join date : 2013-08-04
Age : 50
Location : London, Ontario

View user profile http://kaytay4eva.forumotion.com

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  sherlock holmes on Wed Jan 29, 2014 10:27 pm



I'm warning you, this hasn't been read through and edited, I wanted you to get it right away!

Sherlock had spent a good chunk of the morning in her chair, frustratingly trying to compose a new piece to help stave off the boredom that she could feel lurking in the deep corners of her mind. However, what she was imaging in her head was not transferring to what she was playing. She ended up staring threatening at her violin, as if it was doing her some great harm. She had tried tuning the violin, but still the notes sounded wrong. It wasn’t until her eyes landed on her bow hat she realized what the problem was- the fine hairs of the bow were starting to soften, the rosin she had applied earlier was beginning to dry and she had applied the last of her rosin when she began playing. A quick glance outside told Sherlock that the weather seemed decent enough for her to make a trip to the abandoned village where she knew she had seen some rosin in one of the old stores. With a stretch, she picked herself up and placed her violin on her chair before collecting her small bag in case she saw anything else to pick up. Before she left, she asked Dahmer if he’d like to come along with her but even before she asked, she knew he’d decline since he was really into his current book.

It took her longer to get to the abandoned town than what she had anticipated, but the build-up of snow kept slowing her down. Sherlock knew she could have shifted and made travel both easier and faster, but she enjoyed the challenge it offered her and she would have had to leave her bag behind. Instead, it allowed her the time to reflect on the changes that had happened between her and Dahmer over the last few weeks. She felt ridiculous even just thinking it, but since they had put everything out in the open, it felt like some hole that she never even knew existed had been filled. Sherlock was actually happy and she found that she actually enjoyed waking up next to her best friend each morning. They each had their own routine for the day and while they didn’t always spend the full days together, they did make a habit of returning to the house together and spent the evening in front of the fireplace in their respective chairs, with Dahmer reading one of his many books while Sherlock either composed or played random pieces on her violin. The evenings were peaceful and Sherlock was surprised by how much she enjoyed them. Although she found it incredibly hard to open up and tell Dahmer how right everything felt, Sherlock hoped that Dahmer knew her well enough to read her wordless clues.
Sherlock had slowly begun transferring the majority of her belongings within days of her and Dahmer coming to terms. It begun with her most prized possessions – her violin (which theoretically had been there before, but now belonged there) and her microscope – and then soon to follow were her sentimental items- her assassin’s equipment, mementoes from each of their more important assignments. She had begun to bring handful of books whenever the weather permitted or whenever the mood struck her, if she found she wanted to read from a particular book or if she needed to glance through them for her experiments.

The ebony female finally passed into the abandoned village and quickly found the old music store, opening the door and entered the musty room. Dust particles swirled in the sunlight as she made her way through the store, taking her time as she browsed the selection of sheet music, slipping a few interesting pieces into a long forgotten folder before tucking them safely away into her bag. Finally tearing herself away from the sheet music, Sherlock made her way to where she had seen the aisle of rosin. She knew she could have just taken more than what she needed to save her trips; but Sherlock found she enjoyed her trips to the abandoned town, always curious about what she would find.

After placing several pieces of rosin into her bag, Sherlock made her way to the back of the store, dragging a stool along with her. She glanced up at ceiling and stopped under the tile that had a large water stain on it, depositing the stool where she stood. Carefully climbing on it, she moved the ceiling tile out of the way before poking her head through the opening, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. A small smile graced her lips as she spotted the untouched paper bag that she had stashed up there on her previous visit. They were books that she had found and hadn’t had a chance to bring back with her, remembering how the weather had turned cold and wet. She had worried that on the way home the books would become even more damaged than what they were, so Sherlock had stored them away in case someone else had discovered them. Replacing the ceiling tile, Sherlock jumped down from the stool and placed the bundle of books into her bag, hitching it up on her shoulders when she was finished. Finally content that she had picked everything up that she had set out to collect, Sherlock left the music store and began her trek back to their meeting spot.

It was strange how a spot that held the memories of their largest fight could have become so sentimental to Dahmer (and Sherlock was surprised to find that it held sentimental value to her as well). It was strange, normally Sherlock would make a comment about the sentimentality, but she found herself withholding her usual scathing or thoughtless comments in case she said something that would have been irreversible. She was far from perfect with thinking about how hurtful her words could actually be to Dahmer, but she was trying desperately not to hurt Dahmer; whenever she failed, she saw the look in his eyes and it felt like someone had sunk a small blade into the pit of her stomach.

Trucking through the snow, a smile graced her lips as she finally caught sight of their meeting spot and then shook her head when she saw that she was alone; Sherlock quietly chuckled to herself as she assumed Dahmer had gotten drawn into the book he was reading and had lost track of time. Once she reached the tree, Sherlock began her climb up on to its thick branches. She climbed with ease, not stopping until she reached her favourite spot that was perfect for reading a book or just merely sitting back and watching the sun set or rise. Once settled, Sherlock pulled one of her newly acquired books out from her bag and then hung it up on the branch overhead. With a quick glance at where the sun was, she cracked open the old book and began reading, quickly becoming absorbed into various crime cases that had occurred throughout human history.

Finally Sherlock noticed that Dahmer was pacing back and forth below her and Sherlock put her book back into her bag before gracefully making her way down the tree. Dropping the last few feet, Sherlock landed solidly into the snow just off to the left of Dahmer. She offered him one of the smiles that he saved for him, truly happy to see him. It’s such a shame that humans are extinct, they’d be so fascinating to watch and study. Or, or can you imagine if I could actually see some of these crime scenes first hand? There’s only so much I can do with recreations!


avatar
sherlock holmes
Admin

Posts : 22
Join date : 2013-08-05

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  Dahmer Oriel on Tue Mar 25, 2014 11:31 pm




HERE. A POST FOR YOUUUU!

The sun had almost completely fallen behind the horizon and still Sherlock hadn't arrived. Dahmer took a deep breath and forced himself to stop his pacing, fighting to keep his worry at bay. He couldn't help it. It didn't matter how reliable Sherlock was – it didn't matter that she had shown up every single night for the past month or so without fail, even if she was a few minutes late here or there. He knew she had a tendency to become lost in whatever activity she spent the day partaking in. Whether it was trying to nail down a complicated and new piece she'd been writing for her violin or if she was late coming back because she had gone a little too far during a scavenging trip for supplies. Once she had been late by almost an entire hour – Dahmer had hastened to her den to find her lost deep in concentration, focusing on an experiment that involved a large amount of beakers, brightly coloured liquids and what he swore looked like human skeletal remains. It had taken the giant male several insistent calls (and a prod or two) to pull her from her reverie. Sherlock hadn't even been aware of the time. She had thought it was still morning. He knew she never did it on purpose – and he certainly didn't hold it against his partner. How many times had she found him completely lost in one of his books? Or working on blue prints for a build project? They both had satisfying hobbies that were easy to immerse themselves in. He knew that. ...and yet...

Fear. Fed by his warped perception of himself. It didn't matter how often Sherlock proved that she had chosen him, that she wanted to be with him. It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how many hours the two of them enjoyed each other's company, whether it was going over old training exercises, running through the woods or just sitting in companionable silence in front of the fireplace – he still doubted his hold on her. He just couldn't see himself as capable of keeping her around, of being worthy of his greatest friend. Fear and worry mingled to spawn a sick twisted feeling in his gut, and he fought desperately to keep it back. Whenever he arrived first at any meeting spot it was his instant companion, greeting him with a cheerful salutation that manifested itself as a lump in his throat, a rock in his stomach, a painful dread. Why hello there, Dahmer! Did you miss me? I bet you did! But not as much as you miss HER! He would begin this silent mental fight, angrily sparring the thoughts that turned on him. And then at some point in the middle of it, Sherlock would arrive and everything else would fall away so his world consisted of only the two of them. He'd greet his companion warmly, casually and in his perfect Dahmer way. But on the inside, his emotions were completely raw. He couldn't let her see how worried he had become, he could not allow Sherlock to see just how completely relieved he was to see her again, to discover that she hadn't lost interest, hadn't taken off as soon as she had the chance. He hoped it didn't show. With Sherlock, it was hard to tell – she saw almost everything, but rarely felt inclined to comment on it.  

A soft, almost silent whine escaped his lips. She was now several minutes late. His betraying thoughts were in full swing by now, both sides enthusiastically following their scripts. For once though, Dahmer felt as thought he had convincing evidence on his side. At least enough to keep those thoughts frustrated, prevent them from claiming a complete victory. If Sherlock had decided to do a runner, why had she left so many of her things at his place? Sherlock was far from a material sort of character – she didn't fill her life with meaningless possessions. But there were a few things that the ebony female could not live without. And almost every single one was currently sitting in his home. She wouldn't leave without them. This realization bolstered his confidence, allowing a small amount of warmth to fill his stomach and ward off the sinister thoughts. Unless she backtracked? Waited for him to leave for their meeting spot and then took advantage of his absence to collect everything and get a head start? No. Nonono. Not possible. She wouldn't do it. Would she? No. She wouldn't. She loved him. He needed to stop this. It was ridiculous and completely unfair to Sherlock. It was horrible of him to be suspicious and mistrusting of her, all because of his stupid insecurities.

The snow began to lightly fall, giant fluffy flakes blanketing the already white landscape. Dahmer paused mid-stride, gazing up into the sky. Just as he moved to resume his pacing, a sudden movement to his left claimed his attention. He almost shouted in surprise, but managed to keep his calm, his only reaction a few small steps backward. Sherlock had been here all along, in the tree. How the hell did he miss that? He'd been too intent on waiting, worrying and trying to figure out what was going on back at home that he hadn't bothered looking in Sherlock's favourite perch amongst the branches. It was a good thing the two of them weren't out on a mission, or being monitored by any Bureau trainer. He'd be dead or humiliated. Or both, really.
The male's eyes closed briefly as he tried to get a hold of himself in order to greet her properly. His lips pulled into a welcoming smile and his tail swept the snow behind him as he moved forward to nose her leg before stepping back. As he pulled away, his eyes flashed up at her face, relief mingling with his happiness to see her, betraying the dark thoughts that retreated into the back of his mind. He hoped she didn't notice. For now those thoughts were banished and he had no interest in them – he was too busy focusing on the smile she gave him and it suddenly became very important that he keep his footing. He was the only one she gave that smile to, and it always threatened to knock him off his feet.

Humans were definitely creative when it came to killing each other. I thought our wars and fights were bad, but we've got nothing on them. No wonder they're extinct. I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did. He paused, his brows furrowed as he contemplated human existence. He knew that humans weren't all just about murders and wars – they had achieved many amazing things in their species' lifetime...and yet, it was the killing and violence that they seemed best remembered for. Whether it was in history books or fictional stories, those tales were the ones that lasted. Which reminded him. He had found a series of books he was positive Sherlock would love. And it was an easier subject to introduce than wondering out loud about the puzzling appearance of Sherlock's stuff back at the den. That reminds me! I was down at the old city library earlier and I found some books that I think you'd enjoy. It's a series by some guy, Conan Doyle I think it was. Anyway, it involves mysteries and murders, all the good stuff. But the main character reminds me a lot of you. The Adventures of Benedict Cumberbatch. A snort of laughter interrupted his pitch for the books. It's a funny name, clearly made up. But you should definitely check them out. I left them by your chair. The massive male offered her another grin and turned toward the trail home, allowing Sherlock to lead the way.                           
avatar
Dahmer Oriel
Admin

Posts : 22
Join date : 2013-08-04
Age : 50
Location : London, Ontario

View user profile http://kaytay4eva.forumotion.com

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  sherlock holmes on Fri Apr 11, 2014 11:38 pm





Had someone told Sherlock a month ago that she’d enjoy something so simple and sentimental, she would have scoffed in their faces and insulted their intelligence. However, a month ago she hadn’t been completely aware that she was in love with her best friend. Since both Dahmer and Sherlock admitted their emotions, Sherlock found herself to be truly happy. It was strange, Sherlock often mused to herself, how one could be completely unaware of what they were missing until they actually found it. As much as she once would have loathed to admit, Sherlock wouldn’t trade this moment in time for the world. She loved having special outings with just the two of them; just a simple walk back to the den at the end of the day. It was nothing exciting and completely different from what she normally needed to occupy her mind, but Sherlock found herself always looking towards them.

It was why Sherlock felt a small hint of guilt as she jumped down the remaining distance from the tree, knowing that she had become too absorbed in her book and had missed their upcoming meeting time. Although she knew that Dahmer never held it against her, she knew that when she was late it caused him to worry constantly. It just wasn’t when she was late for their scheduled meetings, but at odd times- she was it in his face when he thought she couldn’t see him. Sherlock couldn’t fathom what was worrying him so and never knew how to broach the subject, instead allowing the subject to remain unquestioned. In the meantime, she sat back and surreptitiously kept watch on her friend and tried to figure it out, treating it like some sort of puzzle that needed to be solved.

Pretending not to notice the hint of worry in Dahmer’s eyes and hoping her own smile didn’t falter, Sherlock focused on what he was saying. They definitely were creative. There was this case in a place called London where this killer would slash his victims’ throats and then mutilate their abdomens, and he was never caught. It’s absolutely fascinating. It was one of her favourite cases to read up on at the moment and not for the first time, Sherlock found herself wishing that humans were still alive and that it would be possible to have access to crime scenes and cases. Ever since the pair had stumbled across the library and the true crime section, Sherlock couldn’t get enough of reading about them- she was just itching to attempt to recreate some of the cases she was reading up on.

Being brought back into the here and now, Sherlock couldn’t help but let out a snort at the name of the character of the series. Benedict Cumberbatch? What sort of name is that? You’re right, it has to be made up but it has to be an entertaining series with a name like that.

With a quick glance back at their meeting tree, Sherlock followed after Dahmer and quickly overtaking him through the snow, then slowing down to match Dahmer’s speed, keeping him on her left. Glancing up at the slowly falling snow, Sherlock wondered if maybe it would worsen and found that she wouldn’t mind if it did- her mind had quieted during her time in the abandoned town and she was looking forward to continuing composing on her musical piece or maybe even continue her experiment, assuming Dahmer hadn’t found her jar with the dead mouse and single fly that she had stored in a hollowed out book on the bookshelf. She shot Dahmer a glance, wondering if he had found it- but no, she would have surely heard about it had he discovered its whereabouts. She couldn’t help let a quiet snicker emit from her mouth as she imagined Dahmer’s reaction upon finding her experiment- although it would almost be worth listening to his “this is a bit not good, Sherlock” speech if she got to witness his reaction.

To quickly cover up her out of place snicker, Sherlock began to tell Dahmer about her trip to the abandoned town, about the little knickknacks she’d encountered. … and I managed to find a small building that I’ve not explored before, and they were full of cameras and their supplies. I’m not sure if any of them are salvageable so I didn’t bring any back, but imagine if they still worked! I could take pictures of my experiments and not have to rely on my memory for all of the details. Pausing enough to open the door to the cabin, Sherlock stepped inside and immediately went to her chair, picking up her violin and glancing at the bookshelf in the corner, her book seemingly untouched. Either way, I think it’d be worth a shot to go take a look at them tomorrow, if the weather permits. What do you think?


avatar
sherlock holmes
Admin

Posts : 22
Join date : 2013-08-05

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  oo ghost on Sun May 04, 2014 5:08 am




Uuuhhhh, I'm cheating and saying that continuity totally doesn't matter right now. Dahmer's shifted now...he did it...at some point. AND IGNORE THE FACT THAT THIS IS GHOST'S ACCOUNT.


It was a little amusing, the way the two of them could speak so nonchalantly about murders and death. Then again, at one point death had been their business. And who was he to scoff at the long dead human's need for violence and war? Hadn't he been fighting in one for as long as he remembered? Jasper Valley's warfare certainly wasn't as long lasting or devastating as the human's wars, but it had certainly left a great deal of mental scars. The bloodshed and constant danger and dulled his appetite for adventure – which was one of the main reasons he had joined the Bureau in the first place. And then there was Sherlock, and he had found entirely new reasons to stick around. But it all made him so weary, and at some point, his reasons weren't enough to keep going. And even now – in a climate he enjoyed infinitely better, Dahmer still found himself thinking of Jasper Valley; wondering how his family and old pack were doing. The Bureau was never short on numbers, but shame still managed to make its way into his heart. He hoped they were all okay. This was another cause of guilt for him – Dahmer knew that he'd never be able to go back there, not for a visit anyway. He knew that if he was to step back into that role once again, he'd never be able to make himself leave. It didn't matter if he was tired and beaten by the constant violence and death – his loyalty and sense of duty would take over.

These thoughts took over as he walked, the male's features becoming a little more drawn, much more subdued than they had been before. Without realizing it, the two of them had made it to Dahmer's cabin and as he stepped inside after Sherlock, his thoughts were overtaken by the mystery that had demanded his attention earlier. He remained by the door for a few moments and made no comment, merely watching Sherlock as she went to her chair. He couldn't prevent the smile that pulled at his lips when he saw her take up the violin, but otherwise he remained stoic. How was he supposed to ask her? As far as he knew, this was an incredibly sensitive subject. He had no desire to scare Sherlock off by making it seem as though he was pressuring her. Because what if he did make a comment and turned out that she just hadn't realized how much of her stuff had accumulated here? Then she'd know that the idea of them living together was on his mind, even if she wasn't ready. He was so, so afraid of ruining what they had. He had plans for the future, yeah – and he'd always want just a little bit more. But Dahmer knew just how delicate this whole thing was. Sherlock was already in love with him against her better judgment and if he pressured her enough to scare her, he was positive that she'd leave. He believed that his partner would always opt for self preservation. He felt guilty for believing this – but Dahmer couldn't help it. He felt as though he wasn't enough to hold her. And the idea of pushing her away by doing anything untoward...well, he didn't think he could stand to lose her again.

Now looking positively downcast, Dahmer moved toward the fire, intent on keeping himself busy in the hopes that Sherlock wouldn't notice. He bent in front of the stone fireplace, studiously examining its progress.  He stoked the flames and agitated the embers before piling on a few more logs. The former assassin's movements were slow and incredibly meticulous as he tried to make his task last long as possible. He was so intent on the thoughts that crowded his head that the massive wolf almost missed Sherlock's next words. As it was, it took long enough for him to fully comprehend them in order to respond. Rookie mistake. She'd know something was up for sure. He couldn't do anything but push on through, and hope that maybe her excitement over her discoveries was enough to keep her occupied.
 The male climbed to his feet, dusting off his paws before collapsing into his chair. He managed a brief second or two of eye contact before losing his nerve and glancing away. Dahmer grabbed his book, needing something to do with his hands.

A trip into the city sounds great. Was the room completely dark and sealed shut? Because if it was, we might have a good chance at finding something that'll work. And if the film's still good, there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to take pictures. He paused here, a thought pushing its way into his already overcrowded head. He couldn't help himself, though – the idea of finding something as amazing as a working camera with film was already making his mind sprint forward with possibilities for the future. If they had working cameras as well as all the equipment they needed to develop the pictures – well, so much could be done! Already he was picturing several different ways he could build a dark room for Sherlock. If we can find all the equipment needed for developing the film, I'd definitely be able to rig up some type of dark room for you....you know... He trailed off here, suddenly uncertain. He could build the darkroom without a problem... the question was, where would he be building it? uhh, is there enough space in the clearing by your cabin? He floundered for a few seconds, struggling to come up with the right words. I mean, even if there isn't, it's not a problem. I can clear some more trees. You know, if that's what you'd prefer. Smooth, Dahmer. Real fucking smooth. He sighed in defeat and shut his mouth, refusing to let anymore words escape, make him sound like an even bigger idiot. Instead he shoved his head into his book, shielding his face from his beloved's view.

avatar
oo ghost

Posts : 23
Join date : 2013-08-06

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  sherlock holmes on Sat Jun 28, 2014 2:00 am



I’M SORRY THIS IS SHORT. PRETEND IT’S A MILLION WORDS LONG! AND Y’KNOW, NOT CRAP.

There was just something calming about being seated in what she had dubbed “her” chair, sitting in front of a fire (albeit a small one at the moment, until Dahmer stoked it into a more comfortable blaze) with her violin, with Dahmer as her audience. The couple could sit idly and enjoy the notes filling the air, or they could spend the night talking and Sherlock enjoyed them both (unless it was a night where a black mood set in, and then it was just unbearable). The thing about having a routine night was Sherlock knew how long it should have taken Dahmer to work his magic on the flames, but it was taking him twice as long and she was busy looking at what appeared to be his brooding shoulders.

Finally, after an unusually long time, Dahmer turned and settled into his chair with a book, briefly holding eye contact for a mere second or two and Sherlock barely held in the snort as she saw the sure sign of discomfort, amateur she thought in amusement. Sherlock knew that it was a bit not good to find his discomfort amusing, but it was a first-hand experience to watch body language and so as Dahmer began to reply to her question, Sherlock watched every single shift in his body, every eye movement, everything he did and catalogued them.
She saw that he was slowly becoming attentive to the topic- he never could resist a possible project and she gave a faint smile, knowing that he was already imagining plans on how to build something workable but wouldn’t finalize it until he knew what they had been left with, if any of it was workable. The room was boarded up pretty well, hidden in the back in a way I nearly missed it. As far as I could tell, it had somehow escaped any major damage.

His words were starting to become excited and he had unconsciously begun to sit forward but then his words faltered, trailed off into an uncomfortable silence and then he stumbled into his next question, the words seeming to be uncomfortable on his tongue. Sherlock frowned slightly at his words, confused and distracted away from her previous thoughts for the moment- why would he build something by her old cabin? It would be such a pain to get to, especially if she had the urge to use it in the middle of the night. But then her mind began to link her observations to his words, rudely pushing away all of her previous thoughts and she knew that she was close to figuring out what had Dahmer in such an uncomfortable state.

Sherlock plucked a few strings on her violin, random and sharp, trying to draw Dahmer’s attention back to her and to force him to stop hiding behind his book. She sighed in frustration and finally decided enough was enough. She spoke into the quiet, while her words were blunt, she did have the best intention in mind, Oh for God’s sake, Dahmer, just spit it out already.

avatar
sherlock holmes
Admin

Posts : 22
Join date : 2013-08-05

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: you've always been here, haven't you?

Post  Sponsored content


Sponsored content


Back to top Go down

View previous topic View next topic Back to top


 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum