ᴛɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴍʙ

He shook his head left then right, “No you can’t.” When Levee touched his wrist, he made no sudden movements. Putting his knife down and keeping it at his side, he glared at her smirk. “Who said I liked you?” he asked bitterly. “I just said you weren’t an idiot.” Turning his back on her and checking his wound, he rolled his eyes. Truth was, he had a tiny ounce of fondness of her, but he would never admit to it. She was cold, hostile, and indirectly complimented his eerie ways. Realizing he was vulnerable, he started walking, circling around her.

Rather than putting her in a sour mood, his sudden hostility caused her to bite her lip in an attempt to hold back a grin. She still kept a firm hold on her knife, not letting her guard down. He was a wanderer; possibly even more unpredictable than she was, but that was probably unlikely. "Not an idiot." She repeated. Her eyes followed him curiously as he circled around her. For some reason, she didn't feel threatened -- but she normally didn't until it was too late. "But you haven't killed me yet. That stands for something around here. And I haven't killed you, but you're lingering around here awfully long. You'd think being in the presence of a suspected cannibal might scare you off a little quicker."

"Is that what you call a little fun and games? Sick?" he said under his breath. He pressed the knife against her neck, but not hard enough to penetrate her skin. Grinning and pretending to think about the answer to her question, he blatantly stated, "I’m still deciding." One side of his lip curled up. Gently holding her wrist, his hand ran down her hand and to the knife poking into his body. Dash pushed her hand back along with the weapon. Letting go of her hand, he smiled. His shirt had tiny blood stains on it. Rubbing his finger against the stain, he could smell the rustic aroma it gave off. "You’re not too bad," he told her. "You’re not stupid and you’re wildly intriguing. Congratulations." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but most of it was coated in truth. 

Levee shrugged casually despite the feel of cold metal against her skin. "If that's what you want to call it, I suppose I can't be opposed, can I?" She kept her eyes glued to him, observing the small upturn of his lips. His hand on hers sent a chill down her spine, and after a few seconds, she lowered the weapon back down to her side. Her small hand wrapped around his wrist, swapping their positions as it was her turn to push his weapon away from her skin. She had gone without bleeding, though. Her eyes followed his to the bloodstain on his shirt, and it brought a smirk to her face. "Wildly intriguing, yeah? If I knew that nearly stabbing people would get them to like me, I might have tried it a long time ago."

"Who I am isn’t nearly as important as you staying bloody still," Braddock says, out of her chair within moments of the other waking up. She doesn’t try to restrain her, necessarily, as any unknown is a potential danger, but she does put out a hand, voice authoritative. The girl is obviously shaken up and on edge, but the doctor is steady, trying to show that she’s not a threat; she keeps feeling around for something around her waist, probably a weapon, but Braddock isn’t stupid enough to keep something like that out in the open. “Just take a deep breath and relax. I’m not here to hurt you. When you’ve calmed down, I’ll tell you my name. Alright, poppet?,” she says, tone firm but gentle. “You’re safer here than most places.”

Levee's eyes narrowed. Her teeth were gritted from the resonating pain in her arm, but if her suspicions about where she was were correct, her anger wouldn't cease any time soon. Whoever this woman was, she had obviously saved Levee's life -- but that wasn't the Devil's first train of thought. She was used to running on animal instinct, always assuming the worst in people, and the soft side of her rarely ever showed. It was difficult to be gracious when the stranger in front of her was speaking to her in such a condescending way. As soon as she would be able to get her hands on Duke, she'd kill him for landing her in such a situation. "Where am I?" Another demanding question. Although she had relaxed her body ever so slightly, she couldn't bring herself to feel at easy in the presence of the woman. Her wild eyes studied every bit of the stranger, searching for some sort of threat or danger. She didn't seem threatening, but her intentions were still unclear.

the-winchester-babygirl:

Private | Braddock & Levee

Whether she fainted from pain or blood loss was a mystery, but it might have been fair to say it was a mixture of both. When she provoked Duke into stabbing her, she hadn't expected the consequences to be to such a magnitude -- actually, she hadn't expected anything of the consequences, considering she didn't even think of them. That was her issue; rushing headlong into things for the thrill of it without bothering to think of the outcome.

His smirk widened; she was begging to be slaughtered, to be gutted like some helpless animal all for the sake of tasting the blood. Duke, always the finest gentleman of them all, simply must answer nature’s call for survival of the fittest- and he did. Grabbing the knife by the hinge, he squeezed the girl’s throat harshly with his other hand as he shoved the weapon deep into her bicep, piercing through it entirely and with such force that the blade damn near broke. The boy twisted it with a sadistic gleam in his eye as he watched pool after pool of blood gushed from the wound now, staining his pale thigh with metallic smelling crimson. Marmaduke, with his heart pumping with adrenaline and his fingers shaking with excitement, yanked her closer by the back of the neck.

She didn't know what she had expected. Her mouth often got her into trouble, and this time was no exception. But that was the thing; she got so caught up in the heat of the argument, in her own temper and funnel cloud of emotions, that she never stopped to think of the consequences -- which happened to be quite dire while she was pinned against a tree.

willajhollanddaily:

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t a Devil just so he can kill whoever the fuck he damn well pleased. Now that Levee is under their protection (thanks a lot, Slightly),  the boy technically couldn’t kill her. Damn it. A part of him wanted the rest of his brain realize that intimidation doesn’t get to Levee, that waving a knife really wouldn’t scare her in any way, shape, or form. 

A stab wound would heal eventually -- that wasn't her main concern. Levee didn't care too much about physical pain. A wound like the one he was suggesting would certainly hinder her for a bit, but she was too caught up in her moment of fun to think that through. Her recklessness was a fatal flaw.

"That depends. Do you want to know who you killed or do you just want to kill and never know of all the great opportunities this little connection between us could have sparked?" he asked her, enlightened. Dash loved tossing "what ifs" and "buts" into his conversations, that way it would buy him enough time to make a move. When the blade touched his skin, he froze, not in fear or worriment, but surprise. He couldn’t resist smiling as the warmth of her body radiated off of his. His eyes grew small as he stared into her eyes, wondering what went on in that pretty little head of hers. When she revealed her name, his delighted smile melted into a side smirk. "Dash…," he replied, taking a step closer to the blade, barely puncturing his skin. As tiny droplets of blood seeped through his shirt, he swiftly took out a knife from his pocket, and held it against her neck. "Yeah I think I do." 

The knife at her throat took her by surprise, and by instinct, she applied a little more pressure to the knife in her own hand. Dash wasn't flinching at the pain, and that made her grin despite the blade being held to her skin. His weapon had made her a bit more guarded, slightly less carefree than she had been a moment ago. Her eyes had turned darker, her stature more rigid. Her mind was buzzing, piecing together ways that she could get out of the situation if necessary. But for some reason, she didn't feel as though this boy would actually kill her. "You're kind of sick, aren't you, Dash?" She questioned, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Do you want to kill me?"

"Why would I take your knife?"

"I don't know why, and I don't care. I asked if you did. Did you? What are you doing around here, anyway?"

"Considering it’s endless, yes," he said. Watching the knife in Levee’s hand, his heartbeat picked up. "Seems as though death threats are growing extremely popular these days…," Dash stated, calmly raising his hands to gesture that he meant no harm, but he sort of did. In all honesty he didn’t care if she tried to kill him. He liked the possibility that she wanted to. The thought of being close to death but not quite enough to actually die, made him exuberant. "Careful there, we haven’t even exchanged names yet," he uttered.

"I don't need to know your name to kill you, do I?" She countered with a smirk, gradually moving closer to him. There was a noticeable spark in his eye, but it didn't seem to be fear. Levee knew that look well by that point. She twirled the knife between her dainty fingers, lips pulled back in a smile. She stopped walking once the tip of her blade made contact with his torso, poking into the fabric of the shirt enough to make it uncomfortable, but not enough to draw blood. Her eyes flickered down to the knife between them; the length of the weapon was all that separated their bodies. She was never one to mind personal space. Once her gaze shifted back to his, she tilted her head. "Levee." She introduced shortly, mischievous smile unwavered. "Still prefer my hostility?"

It didn’t take long for him to come back, her knife in hand, with a dangerously dark look in his eyes. The walk took thirty minutes at best, but the anger currently harboring inside of him was still as powerful as ever; the more he walked, the more he thought, the more he worried over his twin- 

She followed him the rest of the way without a word, lingering a few feet back from him. It was easy to see just by his gait how angry he was. Rather than being scared, as she should have been, a giddy elation was flowing through her. She lived to get under people's skin, and sometimes, Duke made himself too easy of a target.