please stop, you're scaring me.

         “ What makes you think I was LOOKING ? ”

                      He could SENSE that she was on edge from a mile away.

           “Because I’m not BLIND.”

[ Brook quietly walked over to water dispenser      she has in her kitchen, before taking an empty glass,      and filling it up, and taking the filled glass back to Ashley. ]

        ❝… So..you okay?❞

                The cool water feels good on her dry throat, though she wishes it were WARMER.  The question prompts a shallow nod, though there’s no thought to it.

    The Being closed his eyes briefly and drew in another long breath. A foolish part of him ached to show himself and speak to her; he had, after all, never lost that old desperate need for companionship, and two centuries of loneliness had cut deep. He wanted someone near him, someone to speak with, someone to help pass the days – but as much as he wanted that, fear held him back from it on most occasions. He was too aware of mankind’s cruelty to willingly put himself in the path of it. 

     But she had said she would put away the gun. She could, of course, be lying, but something in her voice made him want to trust her. With a final inhale of breath, therefore, the Being tensed himself, opened his eyes, and crept out from behind the boulder, crouched low to the ground in an attempt to lesson the effect of his height. There was no denying that he was hideous, even more hideous than the wendigos: although he moved like a man, his face was, if possible, even less human than theirs, and he more resembled some mummified corpse than a living creature. 

  ‘ … Do not be afraid. ’

             She GASPS --- she would reach for the gun upon her back were she not FROZEN WITH FEAR.  A zombie --- that’s her first thought.  She has found so much in her hunting; wendigos are not the only MYTHS wandering this fucking earth.  Why not zombies?  It’s like a horror movie, and Ashley is nothing if not a COWARD.  { can’t you see?  you are so much stronger than you were. }  Her hands shake violently and it is not until he SPEAKS that she is knocked from her terrified stupor enough to move.

                                 The gun is instantly back in her hands --- though pointed at the ground and NOT at him --- as her mind rapidly spins through possibilities, gears WHIRRING.  She is smart as she is frightened --- SPEECH, intelligent speech, not like the imitation that the wendigos offered.  So this creature is intelligent.  Has not attacked --- either waiting for an opening or without intention to at this moment.  Had she not given him an opening when she’d FROZEN IN TERROR?  So without intention to hurt her { yet }.  Too large to be human, to have EVER been human.  Something else?  

                           She should kill it to be certain --- to be SAFE.  But she is suddenly unsure if a gun will be EFFECTIVE and she has no desire to enrage it, to prompt an attack.  Better to be --- safe ---...

                               { better to be kind. }

    His default coping mechanism after the evening up on the mountain is alcohol, a half-baked attempt of drinking his problems away ( though drinking would never bring Jessica back, it would never mend his hand, or erase his mind of the memory of Sam’s limp body being slammed against the wall and clawed through, impaled so fucking EFFORTLESSLY – ).

    He can’t let others know of this, though, his methods of coping, or forgetting, or both representing, in his mind, an embarrassing touch of weakness.

    “Nah, I’m good.” he turns it down, though offers for her to indulge in whatever she’d like, despite his lack of participation. “ – YOU CAN, though. I won’t mind.”

         She nods at his refusal, not surprised --- though she feels she SHOULD be.  Today is a bad day; she is too tired and out of it to feel much of anything.  Fingers tangle together and then separate, palms pressing together in some useless attempt to do something { anything } with her hands but pick at the scars on her wrists.

                     “No, I don’t --- really drink anymore.”  A misstep now and then --- no one is perfect, no one stays on the wagon forever --- but getting better.  That’s what she tells herself, anyway.  “It kinda --- fucks with my meds, y - you know?”

Send me one of the following: !

"Scoot over and share the blankets!"

"Do you want some cocoa?"

"Here, you can have my jacket. It's too cold out to be wearing short sleeves."

"I need a hug."

"Your feet are cold!"

"Can I play with your hair?"

"You make a good pillow."

"You know, you have really bad morning breath."

"Are you ticklish?"

"You don't mind sharing a bed, do you?"

"Hold still--! You've got something on your face."

"I really don't get why you're single."

"Can we hold hands? I forgot my gloves."

"Do you want to spend the night?"

"Here, get under my umbrella!"

     The Being ground his teeth together and hunkered down a little closer to the boulder, sucking in harsh breaths through the hole where his nose ought to have been. Oh, he had been here too many times before, and he knew just what would happen: the moment he showed his face, panic would take over in the girl’s mind, and she would fire at him without asking questions. That was the way it had always gone. People ran, or they shot.

     ‘ Will you not leave me in peace? ’ he asked, tilting his head up slightly so that the wind could properly carry his voice to her. ‘ Trust my word when I say that you do not wish to see my face; rest assured, it will repulse you. Let me go on my way, and I will do the same to you. I wish for no quarrel. ’

            It’s not that she doesn’t want to leave; to carry on and pretend she hasn’t realized that this could be a danger.  She isn’t one for confrontation, nor one prone to lies --- but she’s trying to mild herself into the kind of a hero she’d like to write a story about one day, and that means she can’t just run away and leave a stranger here to die at the hands of the creatures that nearly killed her.  nearly?  hah.

   ❝I was offering you water, not alcohol.  I don’t        drink either.  I never have.❞

          “Oh --- sorry.  I saw clear liquid and just assumed ---...”

                        Well, that’s her own fault.