#;human

Another sleepless night. Gemina sat in the common area of the wing that she shared with Antonio, red eyes staring down at the worn out remains of an old book. She vaguely heard something moving behind her and turned her head to check, seeing the familiar shadow of the man she’d been the charge of for all those years. Her mind wandered between the pages in front of her and of distant memories that kept her awake, straying only briefly into the present. His presence was nearly forgotten until she felt long fingers, cold and boney, brush along the side of her face -- pushing strands of flaxen hair behind her ear. 

@ericbrandonrp​

Two weeks.

Eric had been gone for two entire weeks.

How long ago had it been that she’d swore she’d never be a woman in waiting? Yet there she was prancing around the living room, bare feet bouncing on the tips of clumsy toes as she waited for the oven to heat. Gemina never could have guessed she’d miss someone so badly or that their arrival home would see her jittery with excitement. It was getting harder and harder to avoid the idea that she’d fallen madly in love with the thief. 

Loud tambourines and brassy base vibrated along the wall, Dean Martin serenading the home, Gemina found herself dancing around in a fantasy that was years away. Conversations away. Lifetimes away. Small children or maybe even pets! Pets would be enough, Gemina imagined, living in a little farm with a beautiful lake. She grinned at the idea, pretending to spin and twirl into the kitchen as she sang along to the vibrant sound that drowned her hearing aids and cut her off from reality.

Barely paying mind to mess or reason -- Eric wouldn’t be home for hours, after all -- she went to work baking. Spilled flour here, melted chocolate there, bits of egg shell scattered as she picked it from the batter, with a little cookbook propped up just out of the way of chaos. By the time Gemina was done she herself was reminisce of a child who’d found the cooking cupboard, her apron blooming with her skirt and absolutely covered in lord knows what ingredients -- she’d lost track after the third failed mixing attempt. It didn’t matter though, Eric would have fresh goodies to eat as he rested! 

The pans were finally placed into the oven and a timer was set. Was it 45 minutes or an hour? Oh, a little extra time couldn’t hurt, right? She continued to bounce around in her absolute mess, seemingly throwing flour further as she tried to clean it up. After finally managing to get most of the mess into the trash, Gemina spun once -- twice -- and then came to a spot with wide eyes. In the doorway was Eric, earlier than expected, and her heart jumped in her chest.

She’d not hurt him come in over the music. 

“A quick shopping trip” she’d called it. “No more than an hour” she’d promised. Of course, as had come to be expected Gemina was certainly not back within the hour. In fact, it had already been several, and had only offered the excuse of “but there’s a sale” as her reasoning for running so behind. “I’ll meet you at home.” By then Eric had long had a key to the house though and was fully immersed into the idea that the home was shared, happy to find him there more often than not. Of course, her feelings regarding the matter might have changed just a bit had she known just what -- or rather who -- Eric would be walking in on without her. 

The Scotsman sat lounging in the armchair, watching through the shadows as someone other than the expected company walked in. He’d simply let himself in using the key Gemina always left hidden on the guaranteed occasion she’d lock herself out. Chuckling softly, he made his presence known with his bitter amusement of the situation. “Y’er the new one.” He grunted through the dark with his hand slipping into his battered leather jacket. “Sh’sure does like variety.”

Sometimes its hard to imagine as people prior to what they become, what they will be, and what they will be remembered for. Sometimes it can be difficult to picture them leading entire lives, their existence not simply manifesting as it was into the universe as a completed project. No, everyone lives a childhood, and such childhoods come with memories both fond and not. If one is lucky they’ll leave an impression during those formative years that might carry forward for them later on for their betterment, which is exactly why his very presence in that bank had halted the entire operation. He was a fond memory of innocence, of stolen kisses, and sneaking away in the silence of the night, and his picture was given to her men to ensure he was never harmed. Never traumatized.

Skylie and Tucker were not expecting this. At all. In the living room they had found a very small... Person? At least 4 inches tall... A little girl from the looks. Bright blue eyes stared back at them from under the couch. Looking terrified. 

“Hey... Hey it’s okay... We won’t hurt you...” Tucker said softly. Gosh this girl didn’t look much older than himself... The piebald boy reached under and just as the tiny girl was about to bolt he got a hold of her. He gently pulled her out and held her up to eye level. “It’s okay. We’re n... Not g-g-gonna...” His heart started to pound in his chest. Why did he feel sacred? He knew the tiny child he held looked terrified but why was HE scared? With his free hand he rubbed at his teary eyes.