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[PT-PP-F04] To Spite the Chains


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Mari laughed softly. Shaking her head. "I can't be too mad. You saw the other day...I too get a little too swept up. I just...find it funny. I never really understood why someone would get upset or frustrated when I'd hurt myself that way. I'm experimenting. Why the fuck would I care if there are..." She shifted her gaze to the side, eying off the broken and bloody shards of glass scattered carelessly on the floor. She shifted, stomping on one of the larger shards. Listening to it snap and crackle beneath her boot.  She lifted her face to kiss the underside of her chin. "It's so easy to be swept up with you, Mi Amore." She wanted more moments like this, where they forgot their place - where sanity and sound decisions fell sway to intricate curiosity and desire. 

Not all of this I understand, but your inspiration and excitement are contagious. Cuore mia I would not dream of being here without you.

Funny that...It had been only a few weeks and the woman felt the same, she closed her eyes and breathed deep of everything that was Lancaster. Ash. Sweat. Gasoline. An intoxicating medley that spurred her forth. Made her want to do better, be better. To create more - just to see those ruby eyes light up in excitement. To see the hitch in his breath and the quirk of his lip as they would twist into a satisfied smile. Mari would step in as he pulled her close, her lips meeting the crook of his neck. Parting to taste the toxicity that was him. "My Tyrant..." she crooned in a whisper, as if to remind him she knew who he was. What he was apart of, and that she still wanted him. Claimed him as her own. She could stand here, frozen in time and be satiated. 

With a step backward Mari pulled away from him. "Tiramasu." She corrected. With a turn of her heel and a tug on his uninjured hand Mari pulled him away from the table, from the experiments. "Come, lest we sit for hours, days..dissecting and learning from more than just each other." She mused with a laugh. Knowing all too well if he was anything like her, he'd spend more time here - and forget to eat. Forget sleep. There was nothing but the sirens call of the unknown.

Mari lead him out of the little pocket of ingenuity, her cave - resetting the tripwires as they passed. Then out into the cold snow they trekked back to her home. Mari listened as Lancaster said he was in no hurry to return. "I'm in no hurry either." She admitted. Again, there was nothing out there for her - in here, she had him. 

"Where I am free to do what I wish...to who I wish."

An air of violence and malice hung heavy on those words. One Mari wanted to question, simply for curiosities sake. She knew his guild. The company he would keep, his so-called allies. She knew he wasn't a good person, by societies moral standards. Hell, by most peoples moral standards. Not many would watch a guy rip another guys arm off and swoon. Then again most people weren't Mari. Stepping out of the snow and back into her home - and Mari shimmered. Switching back to the simple oversized sweater. "Ah. That coat must stink huh?" She commented as she patted herself down. Running her hands smoothly across the woolen sweater. "I am so used to it. Its treated. You could throw acid at it, and I'd be fine. useful for when I'm working on the more volatile chemicals."

The woman padded with bare feet over to the counter where the coffee flavored desert sat and picked it up. Bringing it over to Lancaster. She'd place it on the small side table beside the chair he hadn't sat in earlier -  along with two forks. "Japan." She said. "Well, maybe not? I got caught up in one of those play test devices in the International Airport. I am...not normally one for games. I just wanted to kill some time but..." She gestured across the tiny room. "Here we are. As I said earlier. The whole thing is a mess. Here, out there - I don't particularly ....care. But you give me reason, Mi Amore."

 Now free from the thick binding of leathers Mari wrapped her arms around Lancasters shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Soft at first before she pressed further. Pausing after a moment she pulled away. Feeling something missing. "Mm?" She pushed him back, jamming her thumbs into the corners of his mouth to pry it open. "Hey...Where'd your tongue ring go?"

Edited by Mari
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The man tapped her nose gently, before tracing the lines of her jaw seeing out the space behind her neck. Weaving his fingers in her hair. "Preach mi cara, I share it." Adjusting his feet, the glass crunching and being grinding beneath his heel. A sound he was quite familiar and fond of, yet the context was drastically different this time. Her hair a gentle satin in its softness, the mix of something sweet and salted, the tinge of some bitter chemical. A faint reminder of everything he had taken, and everything that he wanted before. A decree in how worthless it had all been, for those scents elsewhere would have no value. But here, within the strands of that bright orange hair it paled gold in its perfection. Greater then the sum of its parts, easily lost in translation to those who where blind to it. Lancaster had been blind, asleep. Mari had woken him up, rekindling his passions and swaying him into the chains around his heart. A willing submission.

His shoulders relax, the intoxicating drug that she was being a powerful sedative. "Mi amore..." The mix of relaxation and bubbling tension a heated release in exhale. He'd look about as she'd break, offering a coy grin as he'd look down at the glass now cutting into the flats of his boots. "You are, right mi cara." Waving a finger forward in a point toward her and lighting up a smoke, to toss an aggressively hot wave of inspiration to the wayside. Lancaster takes point, as he returns his hands to his jacket pockets. The traps being set behind him, waiting every so often for her to catch up to him. Offering his elbow out for her to take it as they would return to her quant little abode, the little plume of heat escaping from its top.

"A little, I knew there was a reason. Knowing your genio, Mi fiamma was no question." The trail of smoke past his face, a toothed smile as he'd keep the cigarette from falling out of his head. They'd reach the threshold to her cabin, and the man would hesitate. Reaching up, he'd grab the half finished smoke and flick it out into the snow, disappearing into the sea of white. "Although this, sweater is a lot more invitante I will not lie." Taking to the seat from before, the man would pick up the little yellow drink from prior and stir it a bit with his finger. Little warm, little melted. And now it had a trace of acetone in it. But "Still good..." he'd admit, the chemical added a bit of a forbidden albeit slightly toxic aftertaste. The gentle clap of bare feet had his mind spring to attention, to which he'd inhale softly keeping his urges in check. "Mi reasoning, is not so complex. Stole an electronics truck. Was in the back, and we had to make sure it all worked before pawning it. I was, lucky. Mi amico likely left me in a parking lot, I was very cold the first month or so in here. Surprised I survived this long." The man chuckled, he half expected to just drop dead for a while there. Lancaster looks to Mari "Glad, I'm not. Bene, Tyeramasau." A clear struggle on the foreign word, the translator not aiding in his poor pronunciation in the slightest. The woman would offer him a much deeper kiss with a bite of cake rolling around in there, overwriting its taste with one much more sweet.

"Hey...Where'd your tongue ring go?"

He'd pause, as his mind returned. "RIGHT!" Lancaster lifts both hand with outstretched pointers, slightly shifting them forward at eye level near his face. "The stud is..." He'd turn toward the door, and point to the instrument he'd repaired. "Is fireproof now, don't worry mi anima gemella. It will not be gone for long. I feel a little... odd without it."

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There was a certain kind of warmth and satisfaction in the way he moved, annunciating his words with a wave of his hands, a quirk of his lips and brows. The way he’d constantly reach out to have some part of him gently touch or tap her, how he’d inhale when she wandered too close. A man so dangerous and volatile, and yet had so easily won her affections. Scarily weaving his way deep into her consciousness and steeping her heart in his intoxicating presence. She had shown him so much of herself today, small parts of her world that had been reserved for her and her alone - and he relished in it. Cherished each moment and even spurned forth creative notions and desires that still had the gears in her mind turning, that made her want to whisk herself back away to her little hidden gem and work into the wee hours of the morning and beyond.

It’s like you.” Mari said simply as a single finger danced across his jawbone, in reference to the scents of work. “You always smell like ash, charcoal. Gasoline - there are hints of cologne but it all becomes muddled. Its enticing.” Whenever she had a moment she couldn’t help but gush over everything that was him, Maybe it was because this was all so new for her, or maybe it was just who he was to her.

His eyes would light up and he’d stand - his hands outstretched. An exaggerated and almost corny move as he gave a couple of finger guns toward her violin. He…put his tongue ring into the violin? Mari stared at him - then the violin, then back to him. Flabbergasted. He was a lunatic. This was the man people feared? This absolute dork with a grin that met from ear to ear. He was practically a puppy, with a wagging tail. Mari laughed as she reached up and ruffled his hair. “Good Boy.” Then, her hand fell to his collar and she practically threw him back into the chair. The all consuming Tyrant. Lancaster…her ….her…

What was he to her? Partner? Lover? Boyfriend seemed so juvenile and plain for what they shared. Soulmates? That seemed far more apt. Mari stood over him, lost in thought at what to say. “Anima Gemella…” She finally rested on soul mate. 

You can smoke in here, if you like.” She said, noticing he had been avoiding it. Mari picked up the plate and then sat firmly in his lap, side-saddled. She sliced the tiramisu with the fork and held it out to him as if to feed him. His eyes sparkled with an unabashed glee as he leaned forward and took a bite.

He stole a truck, so he was just as much a deviant out there as he was in here. Somehow that was unsurprising to Mari. Most people who fell into the unsavoury crowds were the type of folk who were already involved in some sort of shady business in the real world. “I’d say they’re lucky…” She mused, cutting another slice of cake off and feeding him. Doting on him. “Cause I’d have made sure they survived what I’d do to them. So they’d live with that fear for the rest of their miserable lives…” An angered tone. Her hand clenched her fork so tight it shook. People who would abandon their comrade like that? No wonder the man had no desire to return. And now he found himself in a similar spot. Would the coffin care if he lived or died? Would they call to arms if he were injured? Mari wanted to question it, but she dare not. Not right now.

Mari reached out to gently run a hand through his hair, soft, silken. Covered in soot and ash. She couldn't help but laugh as she shook his hair and watched it fall like snow over his face.

“You know me, you know my real name - but I’d love to know yours.” One of the many things she wanted to ask him tonight. Mari sliced off another mouthful of cake and held it out to him. “After all, I need to know what to call later tonight.”

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He'd enjoy that rake of her finger against his chin, leaning into it just a bit and even making a space for it to ride. "This amuses me, glad to be of service." He'd lean forward and allow his hot breath to escape as he'd gently nibble on her neck, a treat for a good hound. Once Mari told him he could smoke he'd sigh in relief. "I will not lie mi amore, is was out of respect but I normally go so long... I appreciate your kindness." He wouldn't hesitate to poke one in, folding his thumb into his palm and flicking it out to see fire spring to life on its tip. The cigarette glows in a rushing red as he'd puff, the little bit of ash escapes him. A blow off to the side, he'd tap an index to his forehead. "Ah, uh." He'd take the cup and down the last of his drink, so he could use the cup as an ash tray. "Still best not be rude, eh?" Mari slid into his lap like a saddle, and he sought to wrap his left arm around her for support. "I feel like a king, so spoiled. I count mi fortuna in spades" An exhale up to allow the smoke to rise to the ceiling. The woman tensed as he'd listen to her words, running his hand down to her side. "Is common, to care to deeply for each other was asking to be taken advantage of. Is not an easy life to live, likely didn't want to get caught with their pants around their ankles and get fucked by la polizia." The man traced her shoulder with a gentle flick of his fingers, the softness of her skin that poked out through the sweater.

“You know me, you know my real name - but I’d love to know yours.”

“After all, I need to know what to call later tonight.”

The man would slightly choke on the cake, as Mari would feel a slight choke elsewhere. "Vincenzo Lionetti. Is very embarrassing. Abandoned it young." He'd offer trying to not poke her too much given that last statement had left him hot and bothered. "But you, mia fiamma. Can call me Vincent if you'd like. But if anyone else does I will kill them." A chuckle yet there was quite the negative connotation to it even though it was spoken as a joke. A truth there, that privilege was reserved for Mari alone.

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Mari waited, watched as he immediately lit a cigarette, with her permission. Chain smoking in such a way would leave him for dead in the real world - but here it left little effect beyond an unpleasant smell. He relaxed further into the chair, an arm coiling around her waist, a thumb gently running against the skin of her hip beneath her sweater. This felt…so warm. The woman closed her eyes. Her head rested against his chest, fingers absently tugging and tracing the clavicles that protruded from his loose fitting shirt. She could feel his heartbeat. Could feel the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. Every so often she could feel his arm shift as he tapped at his cigarette, the ash falling into the glass. He thought himself to be a king? Spoiled? Simply because she sat and feed him cake from within the confines of his lap. For all the tout of who he was, he had the simplest of desires.

Mari had cut another slice of the coffee scented dish, pausing in front of him as he coughed. “Mm?” Lancaster shifted his legs, spreading them out as he cleared his through, uncomfortable. Oh…Ohhh… Mari leaned into his neck with a smile, oh how easy it was to rile him up. Vincent. My Vincent. My preziosa anima gemella. I’ll cherish that gift.”

But if anyone else does, I will kill them."

She knew that to be truth. She’d never share his name with anyone. If not just to quell that fiery anger within. Mari didn’t want to change who he was. She didn’t want to stop that curiosity or drive. She simply wanted to protect him.

 There was still so much she wanted to ask him. “The Laughing Coffin.” she began quietly. A name that still felt like venom from her lips. Somehow Freyd had already figured out who she was seeing, simply from seeing the brunt flower field. No wonder he seemed so frustrated with her. She felt him shift, tightening his hold on her waist. He’d place his cigarette in his mouth and his other hand shifted to her lap, running up and down her thigh. His head dipped into the crook of her neck. Mari continued, allowing him to be as close as he desired. “I don’t get it…you said they were scouting me, but - if they were knowledgeable about my past…surely they’d know I wasn’t really wanting to do most the things I did.” She opened her eyes pausing to drink deep of his scent. “Did you…know someone named Opal?”

Then, in a small effort to break any tension that formed with her questions Mari added. “Yanno, she managed to kiss me before you did.”

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