Humored epithets rolled off her tongue, imbued with any flippant sense at his less than savory sense of decor; said furbishing being near barren. The itinerary of his life the past few months â perhaps even years â was proven to be a perpetual backlash of cataclysmic fervor, unrelenting as the emphasis of such trouble permeated every region of his life. It provided no sense of time when it came to fulfilling the reverie of being a normal human for once, any fragments of such regularity only coming about when it was proven he was to provide for Lucas alone; the mother a showcase of abandonment, learned in her own youth. He never expected Lucinda to return much less dare step up to the plate in terms of assistance, a factor which he once vehemently refused as if in the sake of his own pride. Stalwart she was, however, in her own support; inexorable in spite of the looming threat of his familyâs prospective eradication at the hands of the Ouroboroâs.Â
          He could be petrified of such day, his own personal well being never much a factor in his worry; his loved ones coming first, no matter his own conditions. Julian had faced deaths slippery slope far more than he cared to keep track of, the dire will to protect his family and those in the very population of New York not something he could ever disregard â even if it meant putting his own happiness, and life, last.Â
          He detected such noise before it was ever thus enunciated from her lips, chalking it up to a hopeless phantasm that was keen on repugnant memories. Julian could spring up out of habit, a blade suffused with silver already produced between calloused fingertips, ââŚÂ âCin, pleaseâââ go; freckle-dusted male was near bilious at the thought of any harm coming to her, or Lucas; viscerally frantic at the impression that he could not possibly protect them both. To leave with his son in tow, theyâd have to face such monstrosity out in the hall, he would have to face Lucinda observing such part of his life that he vied to stow away from her, obsidian hues flitting back to her as if uttering a silent goodbye were things to go awry.Â
           âI need you to stay here, no matter what you hear, until I say itâs okay to come out. Promise me that,â dagger was absentmindedly shifted between nimble fingertips, heart plummeting in his chest as the sounds drew nearer and their borrowed time shortened immensely.Â
It sprung up against her spine like a chill sheâd never suffered through before, icy and sharp and altogether lacquered in uncertainty as Julian moved quicker than sheâd truly ever seen before. The blade in his hand drawing her attention alike a terrible accident waiting to happen. Light caught the sharp edge of it and despite knowing with a far greater amount of certainty than she was truly able to admit, the safe haven sheâd found with him clawed purchase against an uphill battle of thoughts she never thought sheâd find circling any aspect of feeling she held around him. No matter how many times she could silently tell herself that it was okay, heâs a cop -- this is..--- totally normal, the truth remained, sheâd have been far less unsteady had he pulled a gun instead. One which she knew now rested, tucked away within the safe locked drawer. âWhatâre you..--- Julian..â Azure hues widened and even with limbs instinctively pushing her away from him, or rather, the knife in hand, Lucinda having never really looked up from it, âA knife? What if theyâve...-- You canât go out there.â Only, surpassed thought of why died on her tongue for the newly found reminder that not everything that sought to cause harm was human as it once was, even in her own mind.Â
It turned over in her stomach and threatened to spill far more than fear into the air as the sound grew louder, glass of fallen photographs shattering in the hall. âOkay..-- Okay,â hands fumbled with the frayed edge of the sweatshirt of his she wore, following him to her feet. Perhaps, a year ago, she might have been the type to unwillingly accept the fact that she could do nothing to help. Truly, she might have fought him tooth and nail, even with the effervescent itch within the tip of her tongue to do exactly that, the world and everything in it was, now far too big for her to grapple a footing in something like this. Instead, such an itch grew to constrict her throat, stomach dropping right through the floor with every chaotic sound that filled the once near silent home; and every thought thereafter that drew her to the little boy now entirely out of reach for them and the man who would undoubtedly do anything to find a way past it. Lips pursed and she shook her head, stepping forward to draw digits across the inlet of his wrist. Theyâd already said goodbye to far too many people for her to be even close to okay with the glimmer of such in dark hues, the volatile jarring of organ against the skeletal inside of her chest far more painful than itâd been in months. âYou donât get to leave me ..--- us too.â It fell thickly, until the guttural sound of growling caught the heels of safety and echoed beneath the door, the very sound drawing fear to the marrow of her bones and a trembling panic to fingertips that gripped tighter around his wrist. âYou just be here to tell me itâs okay.âÂ
She knows --- knows that itâs damn near crippling to have to worry so vividly, but what he wants feels near impossible. To stay here --- no matter what she hears. It feels far too much like the long forgotten night sheâd watched as he caved, crumpled to the floor in agony. The swelling in her chest mirrors the fear and uncertainty, of not knowing what was happening, of not knowing what to do, to do little more than watch uselessly and itâs all she can manage to shift away from the door --- and him, in a sharp, jarring movement as collision rattles the hinges. Hands clamp over her mouth to stifle the scream that settles in her throat, the mottled sound of any possible objection dying out as the dire need to run twisted in her chest.