.when it hits the ground

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.when it hits the ground

Post  Dahmer Oriel on Tue Jan 26, 2016 10:41 pm

Good GOD it was hard to get this typed up!

Dahmer closed the door carefully and quietly behind himself before stepping into the deep snow. He took a deep breath and stole a glance toward the horizon. The sun was a lot higher in the sky than he'd anticipated, its weak winter rays painting the snow a pale yellow. He was running later than expected. Ghost was sleeping comfortably now, so the male figured he had a few hours to check in at home, find something to eat and gather a few more books before heading back to Ghost's little cabin. As frustrated as he was with her right now, Dahmer did feel guilty for being so absent – but he couldn't leave his friend alone at a time like this. He didn't want her to wake up alone, at least not for a few days. He felt responsible for the tiny white female and while she'd always been a train wreck, things had really been awful this past month. Originally Dahmer intended to insist that Ghost spend her nights in the tree house above his and Sherlock's home, but that plan had been hastily set aside. Who would have figured that a random drugging would put a damper on his plans? Then there was Sherlock herself: he put up with a lot frustrating behaviour from his partner, but it felt like maybe this was just a little too far. Sherlock could fuck with him all she'd like – string him up like a fricking Christmas tree if she wanted. But to drag an unwitting Ghost into things; well that was unacceptable. And to do it while Ghost was in her current mental state! Dahmer was well aware that the finer subtleties of proper social interactions slipped through Sherlock's filter....but he figured this was as basic as it got! Did he need to put up a giant sign?! “WE DO NOT DRUG OUR FRIENDS.” It would go wonderfully in their living room, just above the fireplace.  

A plume of steam puffed through the air as he sighed mightily and began walking. It had barely been 24 hours since he'd spoken to Sherlock, but for some reason it seemed like over a year. Yesterday, Dahmer figured he needed to put a little distance between the two of them while he sorted things out with Ghost. He had left quickly after their argument, gathering Ghost up in his arms and storming out the door. He knew the slumbering wolf would probably feel safest waking in the place she was most comfortable, and that sure as hell wasn't Sherlock's lab. The walk to Ghost's house took no time at all as anger appeared to be a great motivator. He gently tucked his friend in to her bed and settled himself in the giant chair situated across the room. Ghost slept straight until morning without waking once while the giant kept watch all night long. He made sure that he was the first thing she saw in the morning, just so she'd know she was safe. The fragile female was grateful and a little befuddled, but  Dahmer had a feeling he wasn't the one she really wanted to see most. She'd mumbled his name a few times in her sleep, managing to break his heart a little more. But where was Zane? Originally Dahmer believed that the golden-eyed wolf had taken off entirely, but he'd come across his scent a few times during his walks. He didn't know if that made him more angry, or comforted. On the one paw it meant that Zane didn't intend on leaving them, at least not yet. But on the other paw: if he was still sticking around, why the hell hadn't he gone to Ghost?! Why weren't things okay between them again? And what the hell had happened, anyway? He refused to believe that Ghost was the one to cause the rift....but at the same time Dahmer found it unlikely that Zane was the cause. Both of them were too nice for their own good. It was probably a simple misunderstanding that would easily be settled if the two of them actually talked. That was the problem with overly polite and timid personalities: simple misunderstandings often grew into something much more difficult to sort out. Instead of dealing with the issue head on, they tip toed around it forever.

Then again, he mused at his cottage came in to sight. Yelling at each other isn't much better. He paused a little ways from their home, nestled comfortably in the snow. Sherlock's lab was dark and he could see movement through their house's windows. In spite of the embers of anger that still burned in his stomach at the thought of what she'd done, Dahmer found himself eager to see Sherlock. It had barely been a day, but he missed her. He didn't want to spend another night away from her – Ghost would have to make the trip in a little bit, he was staying home. Sherlock's dose was still in the female system, so she'd be sleeping for a few more hours. In the mean time, the two former assassins could spend a little time together. No tip toeing around, but no yelling either. A small smile graced his lips and Dahmer shook the snow from his pelt before opening and stepping through the door.

Dahmer Oriel

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Re: .when it hits the ground

Post  sherlock holmes on Fri Mar 04, 2016 11:44 pm


The last thirty hours or so had not gone according to plan; in fact, it had basically gone all to hell, and imploded dramatically with flying fireballs. Sherlock had spent the first few hours in her lab, minding her own business and making notes on her current experiment- then an opportunity had presented itself, one that Sherlock couldn't (but most certainly should have on hindsight) pass up. Ghost had shown up looking for Dahmer, but she had looked miserable and exhausted, like she had been carrying the weight of the world on her thin shoulders. So Sherlock had decided to try her sedative on the white wolf, mostly for her own benefit but also so that Ghost would hopefully get some sort of sleep- Dahmer would be pleased, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong. WRONG.

That's when things imploded. She had gotten some insight on what was going on with Ghost but Dahmer had come back and had lost his shit. Sherlock cringed at just the memory of the fight that had ensued afterwards. It wasn't even a fair fight, Dahmer had been too furious with the female to let her get her own point across. She had tried to tell him that in the end drugging Ghost had been for her own good - sure, it had been for Sherlock's experimental benefit at first, but it had grown to be beneficial to Ghost as well - and that she had learned a bit about what was going on between Ghost and Zane, but Dahmer refused to listen to that. He had collected Ghost shortly after that and had left the cabin, too furious to stay and be around Sherlock.

At first as the hours ticked by, Sherlock had assumed Dahmer's absence had been giving him space from the female and to make sure Ghost was settled. As the night slowly turned to day, Sherlock began to doubt that Dahmer was going to be coming back- he had been incredibly pissed off, it was probably the most furious Sherlock had seen the large male in forever. So as the clock ticked by, Sherlock's doubt grew and grew until it was going to swallow her whole. What if he had finally come to his senses and figured out that Sherlock was too much - that she was too selfish, too uncaring, just too much unlike the large male that he was wasting his time with her, that she was too much of a lost cause - and had come to his senses and left for good. Well there you have it, Sherlock bitterly thought to herself, you've gone ahead and finally made Dahmer wake up and see that he was better off without you. She continued to pace around the house, her pent up nerves finally getting the better of her before she swept her arm out at the pile of her books, yelling out in frustration as the books went flying, thumping noisily against the wall.

That wasn't the only destruction that Sherlock had caused during the evening but eventually her anger had given way to painful acceptance. Clearly the reason Dahmer had left without so much a look behind him was he was trying to give her time to make a graceful and quiet goodbye. So with a pair of wet eyes that she'd deny to the end of her days, she began to clean the mess she had made.
Once the books had been reorganized, the broken glass from her spare microscope slides cleared up, the cabin cleaned up, Sherlock began to collect the things she was going to need to bring with her.  She had dug out the bags she had used when the pair had moved all of her things in to the cabin when the two wolves had begun their relationship. The last thing that was placed beside the pile was her violin case, and with a heavy sigh Sherlock looked around the room, taking note of everything and burning it in to her memory. The next step was to be the hardest, the most painful, but if that's what Dahmer wanted, then that's what Dahmer would get.

sherlock holmes

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