Closed RP We Need To Talk

This RP is currently closed.

His gentle touch on her side made her smile. He was one of the most gentle people she knew when he was outside that mask. One of the most patient. One of the kindest. He might have been full of anger and had a darkness to him that made most criminals shudder, but to her, he was just… hers. He had always been, and would always be, hers.

As they walked back inside, she simply pressed her face into his neck, breathed him in, and fed him all the warmth that she had to give. Mint and coffee and cigarettes surrounded her, drenching her in that scent that was so reassuring. There was no place else she’d rather be in the entire world. There was no one else she wanted to belong to. And with that, she realized something else.

She felt no guilt anymore for loving him and being happy. At some point, she didn’t know when, nor would she be able to place it if she tried to recall it, she had made some kind of peace. Not peace with Obsidian. But peace with Alice. Alice would have loved Todd. She would have loved him and had been so happy for her. She would have encouraged this, and Sam knew. She knew that Alice would have wanted her happy.

She could be happy.

It was like a shackle around her heart fell away. A weight that she had forced on herself disappeared. This had been her choice, to feel guilty, to feel undeserving of happiness. That had never been Alice. It never would have been Alice. It was always Sam imposing this guilt on herself. Now, it was gone, and she felt so wholly free and at ease that she almost started to cry again. Her arms instinctively held Todd closer and she breathed out in a small shudder, as if shaking off the last of the guilt.

She could be happy.

They walked into her apartment. The smell of the slow cooker on the balcony filled the room with the smell of ribs, pork steaks, and chili, and there were various other dishes lining the counter, things that were ready to be consumed already. Covered trays of cheese curds, toasted ravioli, and a hotdish that she’d had to look the recipe up for. Todd had mentioned once that his favorite food was midwestern food, and she was hoping she had done as much of it justice as possible. It wasn’t her specialty, not like Mexican food was, but she was confident enough in her skills and the recipes she’d followed to be hopeful.

Todd settled them down on her couch, and the comfortable red fabric was immediately welcome against her sore body. She had to admit, the hike might have killed her. But she had been so determined to make the day good for him that she hadn’t even considered her own well-being. She looked up at him, at those sharp cheekbones, that broken nose, and those blue eyes that looked at her so gently.

She could be happy.

Her smile became a happy grin, her teeth flashing in the brightest expression she’d had in weeks. Everything was going to be okay, as long as they had each other. As long as they could curl into one another and support each other. As long as they could hold onto one another every time a storm rolled through. Everything would be fine.

With a bit of a sheepish look and a bit of a blush, she asked, “Can you… say it one more time. I promise I won’t keep asking you to repeat it. I just… one more time?”​
 
Todd felt Sam relax in his arms. The tension of the last fifteen minutes – the last three days – the last two months all left her, and it took his tension with it. He realized that this was what he’d been grieving, this sense of ease, this release of weight. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel… like this again. Felt relaxed.

Felt happy.

He pushed through the door, well aware that it wouldn’t be locked. The smell of all the food she’d made – made for after their hike. Right now, it was an afterthought. There was no hunger under his skin, none he could notice under this feeling he hadn’t let himself have in… a long time. He tried to remember the last time he felt relief, like this. Thought back to Adeyn, to Nat, to Summer. Longer, farther back. To Arlo.

Had he ever been happy? Like this? Even with Arlo, there was always something to hide. Now, with Sam, he didn’t have… anything. It wasn’t hard to think of something he might be hiding from her, but the secret that came to mind wasn’t his.

She knew. That was more than he could say about anyone alive, besides –

Besides someone he wasn’t going to allow into his thoughts and ruin the moment.

He settled on the couch, and left her room to settle in next to him. He was still careful, not because she was fragile (God, he knew she wasn’t), but because she was injured. It could be weeks before her ribs mended completely, and while her leg might take less time, it was still going to be tender.

His face melted into a smile when she asked. It wasn’t a grin – but his grins weren’t meant for people. Even her. She wasn’t like him. But she was his, and for once, the mine wasn’t tinged with red, with the taste of cinnamon.

“I love you, Samantha Walsh.”

He let the silence settle as he gently brushed her lips with his. He gave her the kiss, and let her take more, if she wanted it. He waited until she wanted to pull away, and then let the soft smile grow slightly into a smirk.

“So… a wendigo, huh?”
 

Those words filled her with a sense of… everything. There was no other way to describe it. He was everything, and he was giving himself to her, in almost every way possible. He was giving her his truest self, his deepest secret, and his heart. She melted inside when his lips found hers, and it took everything in her not to deepen the kiss until she was in his lap. Instead, she angled her mouth against his to make it last, to pull him in close. Her hands wove through his curls, but she eventually pulled back with a soft sigh.

The moment lasted just a touch longer as she looked into his eyes and watched his smile quirk up and widen slightly. It was time to talk, and the first question was the most obvious question. She settled into the couch, curling into his side and resting her head against his chest. “A wendigo. Right. I guess I should explain that.”

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him. And with a tilt of her head, she started to talk. She gestured with her free hand, the one that wasn’t tucked against his back, as she addressed his question. “I did a lot of research right after I put together that you… eat people. I spent a few days in the library, and eventually the idea of a wendigo came up. They’re, uh, they become what they are when they initially willingly consume human flesh. Then it becomes something they have to do. But they’re known for a never-ending appetite as well. They’re basically avatars of hunger, and lore says they represent addictions as well.”

Sam had started to go, and it was like she couldn’t stop, or maybe wasn’t paying attention to how much she was talking. “They’re like the perfect predators of humans. Stronger, faster, and they’re known for voice mimicry at least, and I assume the shapeshifting is just the natural conclusion for that. Wendigo aren’t born either, they’re made. Oh, and also they supposedly have hearts made of ice, and you’re always so cold. It’s like no matter how much you wear or how hot the heater is, you’re just never warm, you know?”

She took a bit of a pause to breathe, to think. What else had there been? She knew she’d have to address his family, but she didn’t want to do that quite yet. He was bound to ask a question that would spark that answer, but for now, she would keep rambling about wendigos. “There’s a lot of lore about what they do, but not much on what they actually are. Like, yeah, all the lore says they’re humans possessed by a spirit or outright monsters. But that’s all most of it says. It also seems to specifically be a Native American thing, a curse, which tracks.“

She paused, debating whether she should tell him the last part. She swallowed and reached for his hand with her free one, lacing her fingers through his. She held tight, looking at their hands, her smile turning a touch sad. “There’s, uhm. There’s a lot of lore of them eating their families. Specifically children and spouses. Like, the real stories, the stories that are true, people who claimed to be wendigos. They’re all about starvation and what seems like psychotic breaks that led them to eating their own families. But none of those stories are like you. I looked into them extensively.”

She paused and then looked back up at him, her eyes shining like she was trying not to cry. “But the biggest trait is the eating people and addictions and starvation. And well, you do smoke, and now would be a good time to mention if you do any kind of drugs. And the starvation, well. I love you, but you almost weigh the same as me. I can count your bones sometimes, in your face and arms and shoulders. And even right now, when you’ve so recently eaten, I am sure I could count your ribs under these clothes.”

Her hand on his back moved up, toward his shoulders, resting in the middle of his narrow back. She looked at him softly, her eyes slightly faded and unfocused. Then she snapped back to attention and blushed, her now more dense soft brown freckles highlighted against her flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean to ramble. Sorry.”​
 
“I love it when you do that.” He kissed her hairline, this time – not the overcautious kiss of someone who doesn’t want to risk her seeing teeth, but someone who wanted to leave her lips free to talk. “You know a lot about monsters. I’d love to hear more, sometime.”

Sometime when it was just them and her thoughts. She’d listened to him rant and ramble so often about predators and ecosystems, zoos and conservation, cars and trucks and customer service – it was th least he could do in return. And her information was good. He’d found the wendigo in his own research, too, and knew most of the lore, but had written off the lack of overlap due to a lot of factors. He had some thoughts – but he’d come back to them. Circle back to wendigo as a part of heritage. He didn’t think he’d like the answer to it, knowing his mother’s maiden name.

“I appreciate you taking the whole ‘eating people’ thing in stride, Sammy. I know it’s a lot, and I know you’ve known for a while, but – thank you. It’s still a lot. Especially with… everything.” He didn’t address eating families or drugs yet. His face was soft, and he stroked an errant curl away from her brow. But the worry wasn’t completely gone from behind his eyes. “But – other predators? How are you handling them? I saw how you looked at Nahual. And, with how you talked about Obsidian…”

He trailed off, and his eyes unfocused a little. Was it possible she’d cut Ethan some slack, with all of this? Sure, it was more personal. Sure, she didn’t know Obsidian was a man named Ethan, much less that Ethan’s last name was also Walsh. That– that wasn’t Todd’s secret to tell. That was something Ethan would have to fix himself, if he wanted it fixed. But maybe, just maybe, Todd could be the first step to forgiving her brother for being what he was, doing what he did. What he had done.
 

Sam leaned into his hand, into his touch. Something fluttered inside her when he said he wanted to hear more from her about monsters. But that also brought her to pause. By saying that she knew a lot about monsters, he was effectively calling himself one. And she had thoughts on that.

"You're not a monster," Sam said. But that was a lie. What she really wanted to say was that being a monster wasn't such a terrible thing. When she was in college, during that brief time after Alice's death when her parents had tried to keep her moving along in life, she had taken a course on historical linguistics. She had studied the word 'monster'. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, but then adapted by Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins-- like centaurs, griffins, sirens, and satyrs.

A monster was a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning all at once. Todd was both a shelter from the storm and a warning of danger, but it wasn't a warning meant for her. Not now. She had already walked past the blaring lights and sirens and right into the warm, soft space beyond it, the shelter that she found in his arms. She smiled and kissed the back of his neck. "But even if you were, I'd still love you."

Then, she turned her attention to everything else he had said. She took a thoughtful deep breath, letting it out in a soft sigh. “Nahual and I worked things out. I think. I can accept what she is. I know she’s young and can be taught better. She doesn’t understand that it hurts people, or that people are people, or a whole host of other things. Maybe we can help her be a good person. Err. Thing. She was very clear that she’s not a person.”

Her eyes turned a little hard as she spoke, until her face was set in stone. She looked up at him and sighed. There weren’t any reasons, not easy ones anyway, that were coming to mind for why he’d be asking this. But it did lead to one of the few questions she had for him, now that they were talking. She bit the inside of her cheek before shifting slightly, leaning more weight into his shoulder and side.

“Obsidian. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can forgive what he’s done. I don’t want to be full of anger anymore. I don’t want to hate his existence. But I can only imagine that he did what he did with malicious intent. He saw two teenagers in superhero costumes and he tried to kill them. What other reason would he have other than a bad one for coming after us?” She paused, hesitating for a second before shrugging slightly. “Todd, why are you asking me about him? And… We never got to talk the other day about this, but I need to know. Why did Rhodonite know who you were? And why did you know who she is?”​
 
A little, tiny bit of the sadness returned to Todd’s eyes as she lied, and said he wasn’t a monster. It softened his whole face for a moment, that small indication that perhaps not all was well just yet. A sign that there was a long road to reach forgiveness, even if she was freely giving it.

It was almost a relief, then, when she addressed Nahual. He could feel that it was at least a little difficult for her. But she understood. Nahual was a young predator, with no natural threats. She’d take a while to understand that anything could be a threat. She wasn’t a person – not human, anyway. Todd was unfortunately used to drawing the line between human and person, first when he didn’t put the first into the second category, and then when he stopped considering himself either. Because of Sam – because of Arlo, before her – Todd was feeling like a person again. He might never be fully human, but a person? Yes. And the same could be said for Nahual, maybe. Someday.

The mood took a downward swing with Obsidian. He’d been braced for that. It still ached, though. All the things he couldn’t say. One last thing he was hiding from her. At least this one wasn’t one of his secrets – and he hoped Ethan would be good for his word, and make sure she knew, eventually. But that wasn’t Todd’s responsibility, and that wasn’t today.

Today, he sighed, softly. He tilted his head so it rested on top of hers.

“I’m not really sure where to start with this,” he admitted, with a rueful smile. “A lot of what I’m about to say wasn’t hidden because I didn’t want you to know about them.” Pause. “It was… a little. But mostly, it was tied into what I am. I… I’ve known about them since October. Them in general, them being here. Right after I met you, Leo – you remember the Jackals? – decided he needed to outsource me as a problem. So he called Slate in, and Slate sent Malachite.”

He gave that a few seconds to settle, to gauge her mood, to see what she needed at that revelation; but he pressed on either way.

“Wish I could say I kicked his ass, but he roughed me up pretty good. I had to eat to refill my healing factor. I took him and one of Leo’s guys, but I needed information from him. Leo hires one merc, there’s a good chance whoever he’s outsourcing to sends more. I interrogated him. That’s how I found out about Obsidian, this… other predator who hates humans. Gunrunner, crime lord, monster, I had this whole picture put together in my head before I’d even talked to you. He’s… he’s dead now. Mal– Jasper. His name was Jasper Torres. He had a wife, Sam. A human wife.”

He took a deep breath. A shaky breath that stretched out his thin chest, then deflated. That was enough, for the first part. The news that part of Sam’s revenge was already taken care of. The rest could wait, a minute. They both could wait a minute. They had all the time in the world now.

“I had…no idea how to tell you, Sam. I’m sorry.”
 

Sam couldn’t help but stare, brow furrowed, as Todd talked. She was silent all the way through, unwavering even when he looked to her to see her reaction. Then, when the apology came, she simply nodded. There was a moment of quiet as she thought. As she thought long and hard. The truth was, she wasn’t mad at all about this admission. She was a little hurt that he hadn’t told her, but she wasn’t mad. Something wasn’t quite making sense yet, but she was sure that would make sense after he continued to explain.

So instead of blowing up at him, she simply told him the truth.

“I need to be honest– I never wanted to hurt any of his lieutenants. I would have let them live if I thought that they would let me have at him without a fight. Malachite, he was always the one who I knew was the most loyal. Everyone always said so. Him and Sulphur. They were obstacles, not the target. I feel bad saying that, but it's the truth.” She paused. "I'm sorry you had to kill him. I didn't know any of them were married, much less to normal people. I didn't think Obsidian would allow something like that."

She paused there. Her free hand, the one that wasn’t on his back, started to run up his chest, brushing lightly as she thought. She didn’t know if she wanted to know more. She didn’t want to be angry by whatever he admitted to. But he called Malachite Mal, and that denoted some level of familiarity That meant he knew him. Or–

“The way you called him Mal– Todd, have you been hanging around Slate? Have you been hanging around core Slate?” That was the question. That was the question she needed answered. Her voice stayed even as she asked, even and calm. There was no hint of anger in her, only weariness and concern. She didn’t like the idea of him hanging around the people she knew Obsidian kept around him. Psychopaths and monsters and cold bastards, Todd wasn’t like them. And she didn’t want him getting hurt being tied up in all of this. But it sounded as though he might be already. And she knew, from countless accounts, that there were ways out. But from core Slate? Sam was pretty sure only death could free you from that.​
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top