|Perspective and Loss; Another look into the relationship of Damian Malone & Catri Ryan|
|Topic Started: Nov 16 2011, 11:38 AM (68 Views)|
|Jax Malone||Nov 16 2011, 11:38 AM Post #1|
This tale is intended to be BDV canon. It will contain dark, mature themes - probably not what you're thinking.
Catri tried not to wince as Damian's fingers moved gently over her bare back, reading the hieroglyphics his whip had lashed into her skin. She felt the moment his index finger passed over the single bleeding cut. In the moment, it had seemed like the whip wouldn't stop, like it would flay her raw for her mistake. Damian didn't have many personal limits or hot buttons, but she had pressed one and turned their playful scene into a punishment.
Wet gauze turned slimy in his hand as he wiped the sticky trail away. The fact that he hadn't said a word to her since putting the whip down made her nervous. Was Damian castigating himself over a little cut or was he planning more for her? Which outcome would she fear more? By the time the wound had been cleaned and dressed, Catri had to remind herself of a key fact to the nature of Damian Malone: he always surprised her.
After helping her pull on a white top with thin straps that would put no pressure on the bandage, Damian led her through the silent ship to the galley. "Have a seat," he invited, his tone casual as he turned to the cabinets. Sitting across from her, he slid a protein drink into her hand. "Catri, you know you crossed a line tonight, but I don't think you understand why it's been such a problem, why I've been refusing to collar you." Another surprise, his bluntness. "I love you, bao-bei. You know that. I'm sorry I don't show it enough, even when we're in private. The truth is..."
He paused then, eyes closing as a remembered pain pulled his lips into a thin line, his brows low enough to cast shadows, muscles tensed to flee. Catri waited the five eternal seconds before Damian moved again. "I can't afford to love, bao-bei, and I don't mean that from a Companion's perspective at all. The people I love get hurt. I can't risk anything happening to you."
"Damian, you can't seriously be thinking of sending me back to Jinye. I don't want to leave you or Shanti. Neither one of you should be doing this alone." She worked to keep her voice calm, to argue logic because she knew it was one of the fastest ways of getting him to agree.
"I understand your perspective, bao-bei. May I explain mine?" She nodded cautiously as his gaze became distant, drawn into memories and ghosts she couldn't see, had never heard about. Whatever the story he planned to share, Catri knew this was another turning point for them. Where would they end up after this?
To be continued
Edited by Jax Malone, Nov 16 2011, 11:42 AM.
|Jax Malone||Feb 27 2012, 01:26 PM Post #2|
"In my life, I've had four true lovers, four people for whom I would've gladly given anything. I shared my whole self with each of them, with bonds that ran so much deeper than a mere physical relationship." Damian's voice was quiet and calm.
"The first was Grace. I had just turned thirteen and the ship that was my family's home had taken on passengers, Grace and her father among them. She and my brother constantly got on one another's nerves..."
Footsteps echoed off the metal catwalks that crisscrossed the cargo bay, wrapped in a thin girl's shrieking. "Daddy!!" Her blond hair flowed down her back, completely straight. Her blue dress was stained, oil and rust appearing to have bonded to the fabric. Behind her, oblivious to the mess of his own clothes, ran a boy just as thin and gangly. His smile vanished when a figure struck him from the shadows, sending him to the ground.
"Say you're sorry," Damian demand, knees resting on his twin brother's elbows, eyes promising violence.
"Jesus, D, I didn't do anything," Leo objected. Damian refused to use the idiotic nickname their father had given him. "Something just exploded back there." Grace had stopped running, tears drying on her cheeks as she watched the two boys.
"You were messing around where you weren't supposed to, you had Grace where she didn't belong, and you ruined her clothes. Now say you're sorry." Damian leaned forward, putting more pressure on Leo's elbows as Grace took a tentative step closer, all signs of her earlier upset gone.
"Leopold Sheridon Malone, if you set one more foot in that engine room -" Alira's threat went silent, though both her sons tensed at the combined force of a full name. Leo's gaze flashed to his brother's face, begging.
"D, please. Help me out here."
"Say you're sorry," Damian demanded for the third time.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry!"
"No, he's not," Grace said. "He'd do it again, I bet. And he ruined my shirt!"
"Damian, get off your brother." Alira was standing far below them, arms crossed, waiting. Damian rose and pulled Leo to his feet, before shoving him to the stairs. As Leo grumbled and dragged his feet, his brother was left in the catwalks with Grace.
"I'm sorry about your shirt."
"Me too. I wish your brother was more careful, more clean. Like you."
Two tentative smiles as the seeds of puppy love were planted. She took a step closer, leaned over, and let her lips touch his.
"Her family took her off the ship eventually. Leo was blamed for the entire thing." As Damian's body tensed, Catri waited, readying herself for the tale that was coming. "The second..." Damian was blinking back tears, arms wrapped around himself as the mask of the Companion fell.
On Shinon, flowers were blooming, petals smooth as the satin that draped so many bodies in House Forçaebondade. Everywhere, the acolytes were loyal to the art each of them hoped to master and each had their own style of devoted practice. Most didn't glance up as an older man, pushing late thirties and uncharacteristically looking every day of those many years, walked into the room in a way that could mean nothing but business. He passed each group of his students, his speed a rushing river over rocks, eyes on his target. If any of them had looked, even the most unobservant there would've seen the clouds gathering on their teacher's brow. Those who were more attuned to the emotions of others were turning instinctively, for reasons their conscious minds may not have realized even as their bodies acted.
There, in the dark brown eyes of the elder, a look of empathy, of shared sorrow, was clear to any who watched long enough to find it. The instructor was more cautious, his goal charge not noticing his approach, head still bent over a thick leather-bound volume, a small pad on one knee as he scribbled absently on the sheet. There was something cruel about this, calling the boy in out of nowhere. "Damian." At hearing his name, Damian Malone's green eyes found the speaker, recognized the look in his eyes, and swallowed. "You've received a wave from home." Though he'd heard nothing yet, been given no real information, Damian's knees felt as if they'd been turned to jelly as he tried to rise and follow. Somehow, he managed it.
Standing before the vid screen, Damian felt insignificant as he looked into unfriendly eyes that couldn't understand. The man there, some relative married into the family, had made some attempt at sympathy, but those emotions can not be faked, no matter how hard we try. "Let me talk to Elijah," Damian managed. As soon as the name was out of his mouth, a long fingered hand shot out from the side of the screen, Elijah Sheehan's many silver necklaces clinking together as he usurped his father's position and the wave. Damian's cousin was somber, the mood elevated by his characteristic style of all black clothing and hard fabrics made to stand up to physical labor. When he spoke, Elijah's voice was as soft as his look was rough.
"I'm sorry. I told them not to tell you this way." This, the sympathy that was so much more genuine, was too much. Damian choked on his tears, almost falling to his knees. "I'm sorry, D. God, I'm so sorry." Elijah had reached out, his fingers meeting nothing but the screen that separated them, the screen that represented more than miles. That Elijah heard his cousin's demand through the tears was a testament for the quality of one's microphone and the other's speakers. Swallowing back his chagrin, Elijah complied, telling the whole story as he knew it. By the end of it, Damian lay prone on the floor, abandoned to his grief by the rest of the temple.
"His name was Declan Rourke and he was killed by my family because we were lovers." Damian's voice was chilling in its calm, his eyes dead, no longer looking at Catri. "They couldn't get to me where I was, you see, so they punished him. The story was that he had committed a theft against the head of my family. When I got home, nobody bothered to say anything to me. They didn't apologize or..." He shook his head, swallowing hard, lost for words. "All I could get from them was that justice had been done. In that moment, I would have happily let them kill me too."
"How did you survive," Catri asked, goosebumps popping up on her skin.
"They wouldn't touch me. It was like I didn't exist. That was why I denied my third lover so strongly."
"Wait, wait, wait. Back up." Jax was still shaking his head as he considered his twin brother's latest crazy request. "You've made it through your training to be a Companion and now you want me to -"
"Please, Leo. I've got to get Declan out of my head."
"And this is the way to do that?" The two brothers stood on either side of the small shuttle as it drifted through space. "Look, D, you're already sending waves out looking for more clients, acting like he never even existed." Before Jax could wave his hand towards the shuttle's readouts, his back was to the wall.
"Just get me there, alright? It's not a complex request for you, pilot." Adrenaline pumped through Damian's system as the implications of Leo's words hit him again and again. Two sets of eyes narrowed.
"Fine. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this." Now, it was Jax's turn to spit venom. Shoving away from the wall and freeing himself from the other's grip, the pilot brought up a CorCast vid from Kerry. Everywhere, black clothed figures mourned across the screen, falling to their knees, covering their faces. Damian stared as the reporter spoke of the suicide victim, a first for the planet. As if the statistic really mattered.
"Did they -" The question fell from Catri's lips.
"No, it was a suicide. He didn't want to hide who he was anymore. He didn't want to be who he was."
"Damian," Catri slowly sat beside him, taking his hand before he could pull away. "You're not going to hurt me and I won't leave you. You understand that? I don't care how much loss you've had in your life and I don't care how many lovers you've said goodbye to. I'm not them and you're not the same man anymore."
"I don't care," she said again. "I love you and nothing's going to change that. Not even you." Before he could move away, she pulled him in for a kiss.
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