i’m not the one that you want, i’ll only let you down.

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i’m not the one that you want, i’ll only let you down. Empty i’m not the one that you want, i’ll only let you down.

Post  sherlock holmes on Tue Nov 04, 2014 9:56 pm


Although she had spent the most of her day alone and enjoying the ability to lose herself in her experiments, Sherlock had chosen to take advantage of the situation that had landed straight in her lap- or so the saying went. The moment Ghost had shown up looking for Dahmer, the black female knew that she had a golden chance to test the new sedative on a larger creature, one who could explain what she was feeling. So Sherlock had leapt at the chance and she had been rewarded with some good results and data to add to her research, although they had come with some slight consequences… mainly Dahmer’s anger and disappointment.  Oh, he hadn’t yelled at Sherlock but his eyes were full of disappointment and his shoulders were tense in the way they got when he was mad.

Sherlock had been perched on her chair, elbows resting on her legs and paws under her chin as she observed Ghost, who had finally relaxed and was close to letting the drug settle her into sleep when Dahmer had appeared in the doorway of the lab. He had taken one glance at the situation and with only a very intense pointed glance at Sherlock, Dahmer had collected Ghost and helped her up and out of the lab. The black female had followed silently behind the pair and stayed out of the way as Dahmer got the drowsy Ghost settled in on the couch in the living room. He took the time to cover their guest with a stray blanket before turning his full attention (finally) to Sherlock. They stared at each other for a moment before Dahmer finally broke the silence, demanding to see Sherlock outside.

Without saying a word, Sherlock turned around and made her way outside, knowing that it was the best location to have this incoming talk- it was just far enough away that should Dahmer decide he needed to raise his voice he could do so without waking Ghost (although with how heavily asleep she was it would take a stampede to do that trick) and close enough so that he could keep an eye on her sleeping form. With a slight sigh, Sherlock leaned against the side of the cabin, gazing at the setting sun. It took another moment before Dahmer showed up in front of Sherlock, probably making sure that Ghost was comfortable and wasn’t going to choke on some unexpected vomit – the whole idea just made Sherlock scoff lightly (she knew what she had been doing, thank you very much). So finally steeling herself up for the talk that had left her stomach in an unexpected knot, Sherlock met Dahmer’s eyes and awaited the inevitable.

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i’m not the one that you want, i’ll only let you down. Empty Re: i’m not the one that you want, i’ll only let you down.

Post  Dahmer Oriel on Sat Mar 07, 2015 2:23 am

YEAH. I'm not even gonna PRETEND to proof read this monstrosity. NO.

Dahmer was at a complete loss for words. He really had no idea what he could possibly say to Sherlock about this entire situation. A large part of him was furious with her in a way he hadn't been in a long time. He knew she was dedicated to her research, but to go this far?! It was completely unacceptable! it was also essential that he made sure something like this never happened again. He was torn and very frustrated, although leaning more toward yelling at this point. There was just something about the way she stood before him, leaning slightly against the cabin as she gazed out at the sunset. Who cared about the sunset?! A soft growl rumbled in his throat and Dahmer was alarmed at the sudden urge to grab the scientist and shake her that coursed through him. It brought him up short for a few seconds and he was forced to take a deep breath, give himself a few moments to calm down. He unclenched his fists, straightening them down his side and turned away from his mate. If he didn't take the time to collect his thoughts, things were going to get worse. Dahmer took several deliberate steps away, thumping his fists against the cabin wall a few times before pulling back. Even though she was heavily sedated, the massive male still couldn't risk disturbing Ghost.

This violent and angry mood was new to Dahmer and it had honestly taken him a bit by surprise. He'd been mad at Sherlock a million times, but nothing like this. Normally his anger was turned in on himself...usually he was beating himself up because she hadn't loved him. But this was an entirely different species and he wasn't completely sure how to deal with it or where to go from here. Would he have been this angry if he walked in to discover a drugged Zane instead of Ghost? The former assassin knew instantly that he wouldn't have been. Drugging Zane definitely would have pissed Dahmer off, but nothing like this. There was just something about Ghost that made him fiercely protective, he found that he was always worried about where she was and what she was doing, how she was managing. At all times, some part of his mind was always thinking of her. It wasn't romantic love – he didn't worry about Ghost the way he worried about Sherlock, although it could definitely be seen as that way by someone not in the know. Ghost's entirely being screamed of naivety and vulnerability. She was fragile both physically and mentally, not entirely ready for the world around her. He was constantly afraid that she'd suddenly become overwhelmed and run off some to place else. Or even worse: that she'd feel as though she couldn't handle things on her own and decide to return to Jahre. He had never voiced this out loud to anyone, but that particular scenario kept him up sometimes. He would lie awake, wishing Ghost's cottage was closer to their own, as if closer proximity would some how make everything easier for all of them. He'd have to talk himself out of checking on her and would finally manage to settle his racing thoughts by making himself a solemn promise: if Ghost were to ever disappear, he would find her. It didn't matter how far she went or where she disappeared to, he would scour under every rock and seek out every cave in order to find her. Like some sort of Liam Neeson from hell, he'd make sure she found her way home again.

The tri-coloured wolf had actually been looking for Ghost earlier that day. After their usual morning walk Sherlock and Dahmer parted ways; Sherlock headed in the direction of one of the southern fields. She had been talking about catching a squirrel or two in order to run some tests for an experiment. After a cheerful goodbye, Dahmer watched her black form disappear off into the woods. He continued meandering on his own for a little further before heading out to the coast, figuring he'd spend the afternoon gathering rocks. The architect was currently making an elaborate walkway that started at the cottage's front door, stretching across the yard a little ways before splitting off in two directions: one winding around to the back of their home and ending at his workshop, the other leading directly to Sherlock's lab. Originally it was going to be a simple project, nothing too special – just a bunch of rocks he found lying around their territory planted in the ground. Then he found several nicely shaped rocks down on the beach. They were an assortment of pretty colours and patterns and he knew that the original grey ones weren't enough anymore. The project became something a little more complicated, involving an entirely new plan. So whenever he had the spare time, Dahmer was slowly making his way across their end of the bay, digging through the rocks in order to find the perfect stepping stones. He'd fill the bags that were slung across his back and add them to the ever growing pile just outside his workshop. And every morning, the strong tides would provide him with a new selection.

His afternoon went by quickly enough, drawing to a satisfying conclusion as he headed home with both of his bags completely full. He poured his haul out onto the grass and spent the next little while sorting through the stones. He kept the different shades and colours in separate piles, it was easier to plan and execute his design that way. He'd be able to grab the right shape and colour that he needed without having to dig through the entire pile. Much like the specific and precise steps Sherlock followed during her experiments, Dahmer's methodology was strictly organized. He didn't like wasting time when it came to building.
Once he was finished his work, the hulking wolf hung his bags inside on their hooks, waved goodbye to Sherlock through the lab's windows and headed off in search of Ghost. He was hoping to track her down for a few reasons. With Zane currently out of the picture, Dahmer made a point to see her at least once every day. He worried about her being alone. She wasn't doing too well and he was trying hard to convince her to move into the tree house above them for a little while. She was stubbornly refusing, determined to manage on her own. Dahmer was troubled – every day he saw her, she looked worse. Ghost's self-managing clearly wasn't working and the tiny white wolf was drowning. So he spent as much time as he could with her during the day. The two or three of them would keep each other company, reading or making progress on the various projects they had going all at once. Ghost was especially eager to help out with anything that involved the use of partially formed hands. For the past few weeks the scruffy female practically lived in her halfling form, absolutely determined to master the use of her newly opposable thumbs. She wasn't capable of shifting completely yet, but the halfling form gave her more than enough to work with.
 At the end of the day, Dahmer would know how badly she was feeling based on whether or not she'd ask to spend the night on their couch. She was always welcome, but Ghost tried not to give in too often.

Today he was hoping she'd be willing to help him place some of the stones for the walkway. It was simple and satisfying work, something that allowed the two of them to work closely together. It took enough focus that Ghost had an excuse to work in silence if she didn't feel like talking – but if she did (and he always hoped she would), then that was okay too. Either way, her company made the work a little more satisfying than normal. Not only was he finishing projects quicker, he was helping her.  And the pride on her face when she accomplished something she'd never attempted before – well that was its own victory.
 He covered the distance between their homes quickly, reaching Ghost's cottage at a light jog. Dahmer knocked gently on the dark grey door, but there was no answer. His head cocked to the side as he listened carefully, ears twisting to catch any sound that might come from within. Nothing. A little bead of worry worked his way through his body, but the former assassin forced himself to remain calm. There was no reason to panic, she was probably just out walking. They hadn't settled on a specific time for meeting up today, anyway. Dahmer stepped away from the house with a slight shrug before dropping to all fours. The halfling took a moment to investigate the smells around Ghost's home, hoping to catch a fresh scent that would lead him to his friend. Zane's scent caught him by surprise – it was a lot stronger than he expected. He and Ghost had their falling out weeks ago, his presence should have been all but faded away. Had the two of them made up? Or was he just passing through? Either way, the golden-eyed male had passed through here recently. Dahmer hoped the two of them reconciled.
He moved on slowly, nose to the ground. When Dahmer figured he caught the freshest trail, his speed picked up as he worked to reach the end of it. If he caught sight of both Zane and Ghost, he'd turn around and head home.

But a few hours passed and Dahmer saw neither Zane or Ghost. The worry from earlier was beginning to grow into something more substantial as he investigated all of Ghost's regular haunts, but kept turning up with nothing. As evening began to set it, Dahmer turned home. It was his last shot – maybe she'd gone looking for him and the two of them just missed each other. It was a good thing the halfling form was suited for running – Dahmer made it home in record time. He came crashing through the trees and into the clearing from between the workshop and their cottage. Both buildings were dark but as he slowed himself up, Dahmer noticed that the lights in Sherlock's lab were still burning. As he drew closer, Ghost's voice rang out and the male paused in his steps, drowning in the relief that washed over him. It lasted a few seconds before he realized that something was wrong. She was yelling about something, but her words sounded off. Slurred and stumbling sentences that ran on and then into each other. What the hell was going on? He hurried forward.

And now here they were. Ghost was tucked away for the night and Sherlock was across from him. Still staring at that god damn sunset. Did she even give a shit about what she had done? Did she feel any remorse at all?! Was Ghost just a bigger squirrel to Sherlock? Just one more set of symptoms or reactions scribbled in one of her damned books? It wasn't right. Sherlock could fuck with him however she wanted. She could pull off one of her schemes or tricks in order to get her data whenever she wanted: as long as it was with him. But not Ghost. How was she supposed to deal with something like that?! Ghost was fragile enough without being drugged and Sherlock had taken advantage of that. Dahmer's blue eyes hardened with fresh anger as he pictured his poor friend sprawled out on Sherlock's couch. Rambling and sad and confused, not entirely sure of what was happening.

How dare she. Abruptly, Dahmer lost the battle for composure. He whirled to face Sherlock, towering above her. It wasn't entirely intentional – certainly not a conscious attempt at intimidation...but there it was.   What the fuck were you thinking, Sherlock?! He wasn't quite yelling, yet but each word was precise and punctuated with his fury, every syllable punching the air. I get that you love your god damn research and that it's oh so important to you. And I sure as hell understand just how brilliant and in control you are. But how does that give you the right to take advantage of someone like that? Are you so arrogant and full of yourself that your research comes before the comfort and well being of someone that is supposed to be your fucking friend?! Or are her feelings and sense of safety not important enough to register on your radar? He shook his head, completely disgusted. No, I'm sure you were entirely aware of all that. It just didn't matter to you, did it? As long as you got your precious data, am I right? That's what's really important. That's all you concern yourself with. His eyes blazed in the evening light, disappointment and fury blended to accuse the wolf in front of him.
      And it didn't matter that you knew exactly what you were doing. Even if you knew it was perfectly safe and that Ghost wasn't in any danger. She didn't know that. Ghost has been through so much, especially these past few weeks. She's a complete wreck and she's barely hanging on. She's struggling so hard to keep herself from falling apart. And amongst all the shit that's happened to her, despite all the fear she constantly fights against, this was her safe haven. This is where she came when she needed to feel safe and protected, with those she trusted. Between the three of them, they had managed to assemble a small and frail mental shelter for Ghost. It was breakable and barely standing, but the runaway could still find solace in it. Her one place of escape where she could find warmth and encouragement no matter how terrible things were elsewhere. And then Sherlock came and tore it all down.

The volume and intensity of Dahmer's words had lowered, but the anger and disappointment behind them still simmered. Dahmer lowered himself so that he was on Sherlock's level, able to lock gazes with her. And you took all of that away from her on some stupid whim. Then he turned away to face the falling sun. For the first time in a while, Dahmer couldn't force himself to look her in the eye any longer. He was at a complete loss.

Dahmer Oriel
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