Day before had been crawling up his spine.
He was uneasy. Not square with the week and the hours that sat uneven along the course of it.
Shaving in the mirror and he clipped himself. Steer gone nuts and out the fence. Payment declined on the last shipment of feed when there was no troubles with the green. Pipes yelling under the house. Spilled sugar all over the counter. A day crawling up his spine and sending him off axis. He could that there was a something off. Something there just outside his understanding. Prodding at his instincts. When he awoke that next day, it was screaming in his skull.
He closed his fists around either side of the basin and sucked in a hard breath as he focused his eyes. The feeling was growing, working along his sides, into his ribs, down into his hips. Like he was loaded up with gear off the truck. A palpable but no less implacable weight that had his head spinning like dice.
"God fuckin' damnit." He brought a slap across his face and shook his head once. Cream and the blade wiped with a towel followed by his jaw as he dropped his towel and walked out of the bathroom and into the lounge where his clothes for the day ahead sat folded and ready with his satchels and gun. "Git it together." He didn't like it that his hands shook. That he was feeling nervy in his shoulders. Little needles pressing. Snakejaw.
Beside a leg, an arm, a back, a profile he hadn't stopped seeing in his head when he laid it down at night. There. Flesh and blood and lazy cotton and sunshine. There.
Elijah stood right where he was buck naked and slack-jawed and that niggling feeling running circuit through his system. The face turned towards him, in full, a moment, and smiled. That gaze that was all dare and down the barrel. He thought her name but didn't say it, thinking to say a thing was to banish the sight.
The woman stood, ran her hands flat down her front to loop fingers into the front pockets of the dark wash denim. She tilted her head, just so, and he heard her take in a deep breath behind the fall of her hair, head bowed as it was, looking at him aslant. Motes of dust seemed to pause in the air between them, the room still, the morning brightness casting long strokes of some errant paint along her sides. Like she was half erased from reality.
"I'll explain. Go get your towel."
Her voice was quiet, but it was hers, and the mere register and cadence of it brought chills to his skin. He felt himself harden and stepped into the shadow of the wash room to retrieve his towel and pull it on about his waist, but kept his eyes trained on where she stood.
"Got any coffee?"
Eli walked back towards her, close enough that he could smell her, distinct as that scent was to him, and roved her features, her clothing, as impressed to his life as they were, palimpsest over all he'd done with his time, he roved her features, those features, without hunger but need for answers. That cut on his jaw stung, he could feel a small trail of blood run down from it.
"That sun has finally gone to my fuckin' head." He murmured, stunned, feeling like he might need himself a sit down.
A lilt of humour in the slightest turn of her mouth as she lifted her face towards the direction of the kitchen.
"I said, you got any coffee."
dust in the eyes
-
Madison Rye
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:32 am
-
Madison Rye
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:32 am
Re: dust in the eyes
Charlie's sat where it always had, and how it always had. A couple paces off of the corner with faded lines and faded paint and torn up bills of forgotten gigs and poetry nights. Its situating meaning only the curious, the whispered to, or the accidental found their way into the bar and usually also found that they liked to stay. Madison looked over every inch of the place from where she herself stood, back on the street, in between two boarded up shopfronts. Here and there someone would step around her, or she out of their way, but the lack of thoroughfare hadn't changed, hardly a soul. What had changed was that chains and locks and empty chairs behind rolled-down corrugated shutters looked back at her. No music, no laughter. But, it was here. It could be alive again.
"Don't Be No Stranger" and every small bulb busted except a few still in tact. Unlikely, unlikely, how do some things endure? A little like her, somehow holding on, with darkly comic flashes of light. She smiled dimly and shook her head. "Don't Be No Stranger" and yet here she was. Stranger than strange. The strangest she'd ever been.
The last four days it had been her ritual; walk from the hotel and force herself to think only of that key hole and nothing more. Get there, stare and stare and and she couldn't bring herself to walk inside. She'd instead turnheel to the Penny Moon and hole up in her room and go through the re-directed mail pile that she'd cut a few letters from each day, given the goddamn redirection was a sack each time. She figured this was as much as she ought to get, and that was being kind. A sack of shit. Mountains to climb of a life you left behind. And those sacks weren't even half of it. Not even a quarter.
But that afternoon, gripping tightly the keys, Madison did walk towards the door with the volition to open it. Knowing full well it would be spotless, given Eli's rigorous cleaning of the place, if not only to honour her but her love of the bar's name sake, Charlie Sage. Still, the sound of a shotgun and the smell of it, the sound of wood exploding, splinters and blood, filled her ears. Her mind's eye. She steeled herself. "It's gonna be clean and tidy and there's a bottle of High West sittin' under the counter, he said so. Get to the fuckin' bottle. It's gonna be..."
Inhaling like she was mustering every wind off of her prairie, intention a precarious balance. Madison found she could turn her damn key and flick the chain and put a boot toe inside. But go no further. Lost and stuck in a time that was past. Her body frozen in tides of it. Floating. Floating. Only difference between floating and drowning wasn't depth but breath. Breathe, Madi-girl.
The lights of her signage blinked like the eyes of a drunken man from behind her. Slow and out of sync. She closed hers and listened to the sicksad sound of their timer. As if baiting her entry or beckoning she leave.
Tickticktick tick tick tick tick ticktick tick tickticktick ---
CHARLIE'S
BAR
D--- -- A ---NGER
"Don't Be No Stranger" and every small bulb busted except a few still in tact. Unlikely, unlikely, how do some things endure? A little like her, somehow holding on, with darkly comic flashes of light. She smiled dimly and shook her head. "Don't Be No Stranger" and yet here she was. Stranger than strange. The strangest she'd ever been.
The last four days it had been her ritual; walk from the hotel and force herself to think only of that key hole and nothing more. Get there, stare and stare and and she couldn't bring herself to walk inside. She'd instead turnheel to the Penny Moon and hole up in her room and go through the re-directed mail pile that she'd cut a few letters from each day, given the goddamn redirection was a sack each time. She figured this was as much as she ought to get, and that was being kind. A sack of shit. Mountains to climb of a life you left behind. And those sacks weren't even half of it. Not even a quarter.
But that afternoon, gripping tightly the keys, Madison did walk towards the door with the volition to open it. Knowing full well it would be spotless, given Eli's rigorous cleaning of the place, if not only to honour her but her love of the bar's name sake, Charlie Sage. Still, the sound of a shotgun and the smell of it, the sound of wood exploding, splinters and blood, filled her ears. Her mind's eye. She steeled herself. "It's gonna be clean and tidy and there's a bottle of High West sittin' under the counter, he said so. Get to the fuckin' bottle. It's gonna be..."
Inhaling like she was mustering every wind off of her prairie, intention a precarious balance. Madison found she could turn her damn key and flick the chain and put a boot toe inside. But go no further. Lost and stuck in a time that was past. Her body frozen in tides of it. Floating. Floating. Only difference between floating and drowning wasn't depth but breath. Breathe, Madi-girl.
The lights of her signage blinked like the eyes of a drunken man from behind her. Slow and out of sync. She closed hers and listened to the sicksad sound of their timer. As if baiting her entry or beckoning she leave.
Tickticktick tick tick tick tick ticktick tick tickticktick ---
CHARLIE'S
BAR
D--- -- A ---NGER
-
Madison Rye
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:32 am
Re: dust in the eyes
Heil woke with a start. It took him gasping moments to realise where he was, and that where he was, was home.
His heart hammered away long after the sweat dried and he came to. He grunted as he pushed himself off his bed and walked into the kitchen for water and to sate himself under a single, yellow bulb. He wouldn't sleep again tonight. He knew that much.
Outside his door, he heard the rattle of the staircase.
"Obi?"
His cat came pawing from her place beside the fridge, where she lulled of a night into her old age sleep to the humming vibration of a very old motor. Right. She's here. He grimaced, it meant something else, someone else, was walking up to his.
He stood and stared at the door, expectant, and off-put. The murky feeling of his dreams still hovered around him like the after-effects of a warlocks spell, or a bad hangover, giving him a feeling of false-warmth, a little lightness in his feet, but a persistent unease all the same. Quietly, he went for the glock on the dresser and slid it from its case and held it his side as he neared the door. Habit, as much as the sudden alert that was creeping throughout him.
"Who is it?" He barked. The depth of his voice surprising even him. He peered through the keyhole. No one.
"Who is it?"
He could hear not footsteps but the shaking of the old metal stairs and the thick chain-link that wrapped around the very end pole that assisted in holding the stairs aloft. He pressed his ear into the surface of the door and waited. Nothing.
Slowly, he opened the door, gun ahead, and peered out into the low-light of the narrow hall that led into the small well that backed into the sliding metal entry that faced the street. No one.
"Hey, who the fuck is it?"
He stepped onto the landing and jumped as Obi wandered out between his legs and around his left foot. He nudged her away, gently, and back inside. She meowed. And that was all it took, for him to miss the instant it took for the other her to reveal herself. Hair back from her solemn face. Hands in her pockets. Lips pressed to the side as she chewed. Uncertain. And still completely owning the space.
"Madison?"
He had no idea why in **** he said it aloud. Of course it was her. But saying a name, a name you hadn't said in years, naming a ghost seemed a way to anchor it. He smiled, wide and happy and confused and tired, but above all, relief was what was pouring unrelenting through the detective.
"How in... how in hell are you here?" He went blank. He turned white. He felt his entire body tense.
And how was she the same. No different than last he'd seen her face. He became aware then at the slightest change in her expression, a flickering of silent laughter however bare it appeared. That sad kinda way.
Heil looked down to his checkered, over-sized sleep shorts and the fluffy, white cat walking figure eight's in and out of his stance there with a gun and had to give a breath of his own laughter. Though it was short lived, and he felt that sweat again from his nightmare.
"Are you really here?" His voice skeletal. Testing sanity. One. Two. One. Two. Sanity. Check. Check.
The woman he knew to be Madison Rye slowly nodded, the look in her eyes growing harder, if not brittle. She ticked her chin upwards. "I'm sorry to be comin' on you unannounced. At this time of the mornin'. I've got.. I've had to..." A look towards the roller that led back to the street before lifting her eyes to his and holding them there. From behind she pulled a small, bronze flask and shook it once. "I need to talk to you, Heil."
"Get in here." He wouldn't have anything else, and waved at the threshold to his apartment. As she took the stairs up and walked past him he caught her scent, and knew for himself it was her. That was one thing that didn't change and no demon, no djinn, no shifter can ever replicate someone's personal smell. It was particular to her, the stuff she burned back at that old house to ward off the bad spirits, or whatever oil she wore behind her ears. The smell anyone has that is unique to them, their skin, their clothes. There was no doubt for him then, and knowing that, he felt a little more awake, on the ball, and believing of what he was seeing and hearing.
"When.. " ignoring for now the fact she had been goddamn dead, or off, last he'd heard told by the blonde cowboy who himself seemed half-mad with the tale and, Heil thought privately, maybe the sun, or that she was buried now out someplace he never could get his head around back then and not now. There was talk she'd never been dead for a minute, but off with the men he understood less than her ex-husband, Douglas and Creeley, but he knew what they said, their West, putting an end to horrors he hadn't ever probed her about completely, "..did you get here? Does anyone know you're in town."
Giving a quick look back down the stairs, he ushered Obi back inside with a gentle prod of his toe, and then joined the woman and cat, closing the door behind them.
Madison only shook her head and slid onto the formica kitchen table and set a boot onto one of the chairs. He came to a pause to place the gun in its holster and then walk towards her. "What in ***?"
She bowed her head and swallowed. "I'll tell you all. Just... just gimme a minute, Heil. I ain't seen anybody yet. Not since I left."
The detective folded his arms and looked over to the tossed sheets of his bed. The blue light of the coming day breaking past the bars of his windows, past the thin curtain and the few branches outside fat with pigfruit. He definitely wasn't getting any more rest this side of Thursday.
"I'm here because I ain't ready yet for the rest of the world. But... I know you ain't gonna let me walk into nothin'..." she stopped herself as he gestured that she be quiet and held out a hand. Fingers curling in towards himself.
"Give me that flask."
His heart hammered away long after the sweat dried and he came to. He grunted as he pushed himself off his bed and walked into the kitchen for water and to sate himself under a single, yellow bulb. He wouldn't sleep again tonight. He knew that much.
Outside his door, he heard the rattle of the staircase.
"Obi?"
His cat came pawing from her place beside the fridge, where she lulled of a night into her old age sleep to the humming vibration of a very old motor. Right. She's here. He grimaced, it meant something else, someone else, was walking up to his.
He stood and stared at the door, expectant, and off-put. The murky feeling of his dreams still hovered around him like the after-effects of a warlocks spell, or a bad hangover, giving him a feeling of false-warmth, a little lightness in his feet, but a persistent unease all the same. Quietly, he went for the glock on the dresser and slid it from its case and held it his side as he neared the door. Habit, as much as the sudden alert that was creeping throughout him.
"Who is it?" He barked. The depth of his voice surprising even him. He peered through the keyhole. No one.
"Who is it?"
He could hear not footsteps but the shaking of the old metal stairs and the thick chain-link that wrapped around the very end pole that assisted in holding the stairs aloft. He pressed his ear into the surface of the door and waited. Nothing.
Slowly, he opened the door, gun ahead, and peered out into the low-light of the narrow hall that led into the small well that backed into the sliding metal entry that faced the street. No one.
"Hey, who the fuck is it?"
He stepped onto the landing and jumped as Obi wandered out between his legs and around his left foot. He nudged her away, gently, and back inside. She meowed. And that was all it took, for him to miss the instant it took for the other her to reveal herself. Hair back from her solemn face. Hands in her pockets. Lips pressed to the side as she chewed. Uncertain. And still completely owning the space.
"Madison?"
He had no idea why in **** he said it aloud. Of course it was her. But saying a name, a name you hadn't said in years, naming a ghost seemed a way to anchor it. He smiled, wide and happy and confused and tired, but above all, relief was what was pouring unrelenting through the detective.
"How in... how in hell are you here?" He went blank. He turned white. He felt his entire body tense.
And how was she the same. No different than last he'd seen her face. He became aware then at the slightest change in her expression, a flickering of silent laughter however bare it appeared. That sad kinda way.
Heil looked down to his checkered, over-sized sleep shorts and the fluffy, white cat walking figure eight's in and out of his stance there with a gun and had to give a breath of his own laughter. Though it was short lived, and he felt that sweat again from his nightmare.
"Are you really here?" His voice skeletal. Testing sanity. One. Two. One. Two. Sanity. Check. Check.
The woman he knew to be Madison Rye slowly nodded, the look in her eyes growing harder, if not brittle. She ticked her chin upwards. "I'm sorry to be comin' on you unannounced. At this time of the mornin'. I've got.. I've had to..." A look towards the roller that led back to the street before lifting her eyes to his and holding them there. From behind she pulled a small, bronze flask and shook it once. "I need to talk to you, Heil."
"Get in here." He wouldn't have anything else, and waved at the threshold to his apartment. As she took the stairs up and walked past him he caught her scent, and knew for himself it was her. That was one thing that didn't change and no demon, no djinn, no shifter can ever replicate someone's personal smell. It was particular to her, the stuff she burned back at that old house to ward off the bad spirits, or whatever oil she wore behind her ears. The smell anyone has that is unique to them, their skin, their clothes. There was no doubt for him then, and knowing that, he felt a little more awake, on the ball, and believing of what he was seeing and hearing.
"When.. " ignoring for now the fact she had been goddamn dead, or off, last he'd heard told by the blonde cowboy who himself seemed half-mad with the tale and, Heil thought privately, maybe the sun, or that she was buried now out someplace he never could get his head around back then and not now. There was talk she'd never been dead for a minute, but off with the men he understood less than her ex-husband, Douglas and Creeley, but he knew what they said, their West, putting an end to horrors he hadn't ever probed her about completely, "..did you get here? Does anyone know you're in town."
Giving a quick look back down the stairs, he ushered Obi back inside with a gentle prod of his toe, and then joined the woman and cat, closing the door behind them.
Madison only shook her head and slid onto the formica kitchen table and set a boot onto one of the chairs. He came to a pause to place the gun in its holster and then walk towards her. "What in ***?"
She bowed her head and swallowed. "I'll tell you all. Just... just gimme a minute, Heil. I ain't seen anybody yet. Not since I left."
The detective folded his arms and looked over to the tossed sheets of his bed. The blue light of the coming day breaking past the bars of his windows, past the thin curtain and the few branches outside fat with pigfruit. He definitely wasn't getting any more rest this side of Thursday.
"I'm here because I ain't ready yet for the rest of the world. But... I know you ain't gonna let me walk into nothin'..." she stopped herself as he gestured that she be quiet and held out a hand. Fingers curling in towards himself.
"Give me that flask."
-
Madison Rye
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:32 am
Re: dust in the eyes
By the end of the hour, the detective was slouched over the table, flask emptied, and his eyes wrinkled with disbelief, even more confusion, and concern. He felt like he'd just had another bad dream, all courtesy of her revelations, if you could call them that, being that what he felt was more apt was likening the experience to walking around in a cloud. Nothing had changed there, and that alone made him smile a little. Not happily, but with a knowing, and maybe finding the whole thing absurdly, darkly funny. As if reading his mind, across from him and straddling a chair at the opposite end of the table, Madison shared a small smile with him and continued working the pieces of seaglass she'd dredged up from one of her pockets to confound him further. Sliding them between her hands, turning them over, they made a ssshhhhh sound along the surface of the table that sounded like surf from afar. He listened to it, to her, sorting her thoughts, the tide of questions her being here brought, and then he straightened up.
"And why .. why did you come to me? I mean, if Eli knows, and he knows all about this cuckoo ass shit, which is now over, isn't he ... ah.. a greater help? I don't know anymore than you told me, which Madi, wasn't ever all that much. I... I'm happy to listen. I still.. don't understand. Not totally. But you're here, you're..." he floundered then, feeling the lump in his throat and that cottony feeling coming to his head when he wanted to cry. "Madison, all I care about is that you're fucking here. Not .... " he thought of the morgue, of seeing Elijah sitting there holding her hand. He thought of the Dark Man, standing there with their Ame. He thought of all the things done and said and nights sharing a flask on that stair well outside. Looking back, all these lives led by one person seemed exhausting. She didn't look it, but he knew better. That kind of chimerical lifestyle catches up, and until seeing her today, he thought with finite certainty it indeed had.
"I came here 'cause as I said, you don't... have anythin' for me to be walkin' into. We're straight."
"What in hell does that even mean? Walk into?" He was trying to keep it together. That cottonwool growing in size. "Just..just goddamnit." He didn't even know what to say, and realised, he couldn't say anything. He'd need to take a long walk later, get the whiskey out of his sytem, fresh air to clean out the gutters of his mind, all the detritus that were his questions and worries, and maybe get a foot massage, or maybe, maybe someone could just wipe his memory. That would be easier. They did that now, on Lyle and Firth; put it on a hard drive and off you went.
"I visited Eli as soon as I came back." She pushed a piece of aquamarine down the table, then drew it back. He wondered what paths she was on in her head.
"But, as you would know, we've got.. some complicated history. He's true, and I couldn't be askin' for more, especially with all we've gone through together, apart. But.. I know he wants me to go back home home and I'm guessin', get to startin' on a smaller livin'. Be with family. And maybe I ought to be doin' that, but, there's too much here .. there's... livin' here to be done, talks to be had I'm gonna be havin'. But .. not just yet. I wanted t--"
"No."
"What?" Her eyes widening, she tilted her head and flipped one of the polished stones into the air, caught it, and gave him a wink.
"No. No fucking way, Rye. No."
The woman lifted a dark brow, tapped a piece of the glass before herself a few times. "Come on."
He leant forward on the table and narrowed his stare. "No. Way."
And then he was up and going for his night robe.
"Heil, I need to occupy my time, my head. I can't open Charlie's just yet and I -- "
"No. You are not working with me, for me. Fucking no. That makes zero sense. Zero. You're actually.." he tapped the side of his head, "nuts. Nuts if you think getting into any kind of business, right now, is the way to handle your shit. The only thing that's made any kind of sense in the last .. what.. hour and a half, is what you told me Eli said. Go home. Go be with your folks, help them out on the land, relax with a fucking home made lemonade on the porch and count the fucking birds! That's what you need to be doing. Not... not filing. Not spying. Not lodging shit for me in town. I worked for you. Once. I'm not having work meddle our friendship, and -- "
She raised her hands into the air and palms out towards him to indicate he stop. "Fine. But I ain't goin' back home. No way. No how."
"You're actually a pain in the asss individual. Know that? I think you do this ass paining on purpose. Why? Why would you even... you were fucking... -- " he couldn't say it and stopped himself before he felt he might. She looked hurt, he could see she was going inside herself, her shoulders stiffening under her shirt.
"I'm sorry but I... I can't be responsible for bad things that might happen. I care about you way too much. And as your friend, of a long damn time, I would hope you'd listen to me, if not Eli, or maybe, listen to us both. Cos we're crying out loud the same thing Madi."
He tied a knot in the belt of his robe and looked out to the bluebird sky peeking in. "How about I go buy you breakfast. Put a pause on this for now. But... I really think you should consider no work for a while. Just.. breathe a while. Think about that country lemonade on a porch. Seek out those you got to make amends with. Find some peace."
Madison stood and swiveled the chair around to tuck it beneath the table. "Breakfast sounds good." Bacon. Eggs. Plain toast. Darkest brew they had.
"I'm payin'."
He was rifling through his drawers for a t shirt and trousers. Something a little more suited to the public eye than a robe.
"No girlfriend?"
She grinned a touch and wandered over to lean back against the door frame and cock a heel up behind her while she waited for him to fetch his things. Eyes wandering his apartment. For any signs of a feminine presence.
"Weren't you datin' ... Temple? Ain't that her name?"
Ready, he walked over to face her and shook his head. "That was a long time ago. And no. No girlfriend."
She gave him a warm look. "Why is that?"
Heil looked down and gave a short laugh. Shook his head. Then side stepped to open the door and gesture she go first.
Madison remained where she was, just watching him side-long from her lean against his door frame. Wondering. Questioning. Her eyes cool and removed. She was still off somewhere deep inside herself, or maybe she was thinking about someone to pair him with. She wasn't someone you played cards with. Whatever it was, she was done when she was done, a few long beats, and then she shrugged, dropped her foot and took herself out the door. He stared after her, and could only grin himself.
"And why .. why did you come to me? I mean, if Eli knows, and he knows all about this cuckoo ass shit, which is now over, isn't he ... ah.. a greater help? I don't know anymore than you told me, which Madi, wasn't ever all that much. I... I'm happy to listen. I still.. don't understand. Not totally. But you're here, you're..." he floundered then, feeling the lump in his throat and that cottony feeling coming to his head when he wanted to cry. "Madison, all I care about is that you're fucking here. Not .... " he thought of the morgue, of seeing Elijah sitting there holding her hand. He thought of the Dark Man, standing there with their Ame. He thought of all the things done and said and nights sharing a flask on that stair well outside. Looking back, all these lives led by one person seemed exhausting. She didn't look it, but he knew better. That kind of chimerical lifestyle catches up, and until seeing her today, he thought with finite certainty it indeed had.
"I came here 'cause as I said, you don't... have anythin' for me to be walkin' into. We're straight."
"What in hell does that even mean? Walk into?" He was trying to keep it together. That cottonwool growing in size. "Just..just goddamnit." He didn't even know what to say, and realised, he couldn't say anything. He'd need to take a long walk later, get the whiskey out of his sytem, fresh air to clean out the gutters of his mind, all the detritus that were his questions and worries, and maybe get a foot massage, or maybe, maybe someone could just wipe his memory. That would be easier. They did that now, on Lyle and Firth; put it on a hard drive and off you went.
"I visited Eli as soon as I came back." She pushed a piece of aquamarine down the table, then drew it back. He wondered what paths she was on in her head.
"But, as you would know, we've got.. some complicated history. He's true, and I couldn't be askin' for more, especially with all we've gone through together, apart. But.. I know he wants me to go back home home and I'm guessin', get to startin' on a smaller livin'. Be with family. And maybe I ought to be doin' that, but, there's too much here .. there's... livin' here to be done, talks to be had I'm gonna be havin'. But .. not just yet. I wanted t--"
"No."
"What?" Her eyes widening, she tilted her head and flipped one of the polished stones into the air, caught it, and gave him a wink.
"No. No fucking way, Rye. No."
The woman lifted a dark brow, tapped a piece of the glass before herself a few times. "Come on."
He leant forward on the table and narrowed his stare. "No. Way."
And then he was up and going for his night robe.
"Heil, I need to occupy my time, my head. I can't open Charlie's just yet and I -- "
"No. You are not working with me, for me. Fucking no. That makes zero sense. Zero. You're actually.." he tapped the side of his head, "nuts. Nuts if you think getting into any kind of business, right now, is the way to handle your shit. The only thing that's made any kind of sense in the last .. what.. hour and a half, is what you told me Eli said. Go home. Go be with your folks, help them out on the land, relax with a fucking home made lemonade on the porch and count the fucking birds! That's what you need to be doing. Not... not filing. Not spying. Not lodging shit for me in town. I worked for you. Once. I'm not having work meddle our friendship, and -- "
She raised her hands into the air and palms out towards him to indicate he stop. "Fine. But I ain't goin' back home. No way. No how."
"You're actually a pain in the asss individual. Know that? I think you do this ass paining on purpose. Why? Why would you even... you were fucking... -- " he couldn't say it and stopped himself before he felt he might. She looked hurt, he could see she was going inside herself, her shoulders stiffening under her shirt.
"I'm sorry but I... I can't be responsible for bad things that might happen. I care about you way too much. And as your friend, of a long damn time, I would hope you'd listen to me, if not Eli, or maybe, listen to us both. Cos we're crying out loud the same thing Madi."
He tied a knot in the belt of his robe and looked out to the bluebird sky peeking in. "How about I go buy you breakfast. Put a pause on this for now. But... I really think you should consider no work for a while. Just.. breathe a while. Think about that country lemonade on a porch. Seek out those you got to make amends with. Find some peace."
Madison stood and swiveled the chair around to tuck it beneath the table. "Breakfast sounds good." Bacon. Eggs. Plain toast. Darkest brew they had.
"I'm payin'."
He was rifling through his drawers for a t shirt and trousers. Something a little more suited to the public eye than a robe.
"No girlfriend?"
She grinned a touch and wandered over to lean back against the door frame and cock a heel up behind her while she waited for him to fetch his things. Eyes wandering his apartment. For any signs of a feminine presence.
"Weren't you datin' ... Temple? Ain't that her name?"
Ready, he walked over to face her and shook his head. "That was a long time ago. And no. No girlfriend."
She gave him a warm look. "Why is that?"
Heil looked down and gave a short laugh. Shook his head. Then side stepped to open the door and gesture she go first.
Madison remained where she was, just watching him side-long from her lean against his door frame. Wondering. Questioning. Her eyes cool and removed. She was still off somewhere deep inside herself, or maybe she was thinking about someone to pair him with. She wasn't someone you played cards with. Whatever it was, she was done when she was done, a few long beats, and then she shrugged, dropped her foot and took herself out the door. He stared after her, and could only grin himself.
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Madison Rye
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:32 am
Re: dust in the eyes
"Why are we here again?"
The Bronco pulled up in an arc of gravel and grit that fanned out before the grill and sent dust into Heil's eyes as it settled and he slipped out of the vehicle. His question got lost in the dirt and the broad light of day that flattened every last thing beneath its flat anvil of summer scorch. Madison wasn't going to answer him, or not directly anyway, as she was already out and slamming the door shut and pulling a satchel out of the back of the vehicle. He startled at the high pitched whistle that came in three sharp keens and the detective was sent looking around in all directions, the single oak in the yard off to the left of the forgotten land, and then the dark of the porch for its origin. The sign with REDEMPTION swung back and forward in the afternoon and a blonde cowboy came striding from underneath it looking like a fat cat with the canary in its mouth.
"Ho, Rye. Ho Dhorgood, yeah?"
The man tipped the brim of his hat back a touch with a knuckle and flashed a smile that got the detective thinking that that was what they must have meant by a diamond smile. He was not as tall as he imagined the fabled "Elijah" to be, but still taller than him by an inch or two, but had the simple, strong, good looks of other men he'd seen blow in from maybe not their west, but countryside. His jaw was angular with a strong neck, deep set eyes that were like those bits of seaglass Madison had; smooth, polished, striking with light like hammer blows, but beneath the congeniality he saw the man working him over. His manner was shrewd, but not mean, and looked like he would as happily agree to a card game as a shoot out. Even with a wide smile and amiability, like his friend, he saw the ex-husband as wary, watchful and a perceiving all things at all times to later mull over and arrive at some decision on. Their stance, and the sure way they carried themselves he realised, was so similar it surprised him, and Heil noted that it was only seeing them move to embrace each other and clap each others backs that he saw how very of their home they were. He wanted to smile, but something in the moment struck him as sad. Wondering of what a complex relationship they must have, with so much lived, and lives that despite a marriage failing, were so wrapped up together. He thought of what had torn them a part, a few times over. He didn't have intricacies in his life quite like that. He felt dull, small, out of his depth. What great depth and what it was that diminished him he couldn't say. But he felt emotion come over him seeing her jibe and laugh, but the closeness they still obviously shared.
"Heard a lot about you, over a decade. Can't believe..." he waved his hands, awkward, and then bowed his head, "it's uh... you. Hey. This is..something."
His eyes then arrived on Madison's profile as she moved her face out of the gust of the wind and to look at the sign that swung slowly. The elements had eroded the script embellished across the sign, and much of the outer of the build. But it was still standing, after its rebuild and unlike these two, that seemed to say it had won the battle with the wind. Even for the passage of time and its way with wearing things, it had remained. He knew the two before him had gone through a war of their own, and alighted at the other side, but he didn't think they were standing strong. Not like the house. It would take more time for them. He wondered if at least, for Madison, whether that stability would arrive and last this go around.
"No good things, I should think" the cowboy quipped with a look in his eyes that told the kind of stories to turn the most staunch of angels. "Say, don't answer that for me detective." Eli flashed another of those three thousand carat grins.
Heil could only laugh, as he pulled himself into the present and out of this curiosity, and then remembered his confusion at being here. Full with their greasy breakfast he had felt content to have an easy day, and her inviting him out here he knew was only an extension of their conversation over her flask that dawn. He gave them both a smile, for what it was worth, but pressed forward with a need to know more.
"Why am I here? Madi?"
She had bent down to rummage through the satchel while Eli took to rolling a cigarette from a tobacco pouch tucked under his arm. He waved a paper in offer to Heil but he declined. Heil watched as Madison stood again and handed him a point and click camera. Eli took his time licking the paper, rolling it, stuffing it, but his eyes were on him and Madison back and forth with great enjoyment like their interaction held a memory of a joke he'd heard.
"Are you kidding? We doing family photos?"
Madison looped an arm around Eli's and he her, cigarette popped into the corner of his mouth, and side by side they stared at Heil with brows raised and distant smiles. The detective looked from them to the camera in his hand in this windy, dusty yard under an unbearable sun that seemed to be lower and hotter than it was minutes earlier, like it was about to fall into that big tree, and back to them. They nodded he go, and that was all.
Smoke rose from the cowboy's vice and was quickly agitated by the breeze that was picking up as it came off the flat lands beyond them. The detective thought perhaps to be like them and still with great affection, your memories had to be the same. Some kept, most phantoms stolen by a gust.
"Family photos it is." And he raised the camera before his face, closed one eye, and fired away.
The Bronco pulled up in an arc of gravel and grit that fanned out before the grill and sent dust into Heil's eyes as it settled and he slipped out of the vehicle. His question got lost in the dirt and the broad light of day that flattened every last thing beneath its flat anvil of summer scorch. Madison wasn't going to answer him, or not directly anyway, as she was already out and slamming the door shut and pulling a satchel out of the back of the vehicle. He startled at the high pitched whistle that came in three sharp keens and the detective was sent looking around in all directions, the single oak in the yard off to the left of the forgotten land, and then the dark of the porch for its origin. The sign with REDEMPTION swung back and forward in the afternoon and a blonde cowboy came striding from underneath it looking like a fat cat with the canary in its mouth.
"Ho, Rye. Ho Dhorgood, yeah?"
The man tipped the brim of his hat back a touch with a knuckle and flashed a smile that got the detective thinking that that was what they must have meant by a diamond smile. He was not as tall as he imagined the fabled "Elijah" to be, but still taller than him by an inch or two, but had the simple, strong, good looks of other men he'd seen blow in from maybe not their west, but countryside. His jaw was angular with a strong neck, deep set eyes that were like those bits of seaglass Madison had; smooth, polished, striking with light like hammer blows, but beneath the congeniality he saw the man working him over. His manner was shrewd, but not mean, and looked like he would as happily agree to a card game as a shoot out. Even with a wide smile and amiability, like his friend, he saw the ex-husband as wary, watchful and a perceiving all things at all times to later mull over and arrive at some decision on. Their stance, and the sure way they carried themselves he realised, was so similar it surprised him, and Heil noted that it was only seeing them move to embrace each other and clap each others backs that he saw how very of their home they were. He wanted to smile, but something in the moment struck him as sad. Wondering of what a complex relationship they must have, with so much lived, and lives that despite a marriage failing, were so wrapped up together. He thought of what had torn them a part, a few times over. He didn't have intricacies in his life quite like that. He felt dull, small, out of his depth. What great depth and what it was that diminished him he couldn't say. But he felt emotion come over him seeing her jibe and laugh, but the closeness they still obviously shared.
"Heard a lot about you, over a decade. Can't believe..." he waved his hands, awkward, and then bowed his head, "it's uh... you. Hey. This is..something."
His eyes then arrived on Madison's profile as she moved her face out of the gust of the wind and to look at the sign that swung slowly. The elements had eroded the script embellished across the sign, and much of the outer of the build. But it was still standing, after its rebuild and unlike these two, that seemed to say it had won the battle with the wind. Even for the passage of time and its way with wearing things, it had remained. He knew the two before him had gone through a war of their own, and alighted at the other side, but he didn't think they were standing strong. Not like the house. It would take more time for them. He wondered if at least, for Madison, whether that stability would arrive and last this go around.
"No good things, I should think" the cowboy quipped with a look in his eyes that told the kind of stories to turn the most staunch of angels. "Say, don't answer that for me detective." Eli flashed another of those three thousand carat grins.
Heil could only laugh, as he pulled himself into the present and out of this curiosity, and then remembered his confusion at being here. Full with their greasy breakfast he had felt content to have an easy day, and her inviting him out here he knew was only an extension of their conversation over her flask that dawn. He gave them both a smile, for what it was worth, but pressed forward with a need to know more.
"Why am I here? Madi?"
She had bent down to rummage through the satchel while Eli took to rolling a cigarette from a tobacco pouch tucked under his arm. He waved a paper in offer to Heil but he declined. Heil watched as Madison stood again and handed him a point and click camera. Eli took his time licking the paper, rolling it, stuffing it, but his eyes were on him and Madison back and forth with great enjoyment like their interaction held a memory of a joke he'd heard.
"Are you kidding? We doing family photos?"
Madison looped an arm around Eli's and he her, cigarette popped into the corner of his mouth, and side by side they stared at Heil with brows raised and distant smiles. The detective looked from them to the camera in his hand in this windy, dusty yard under an unbearable sun that seemed to be lower and hotter than it was minutes earlier, like it was about to fall into that big tree, and back to them. They nodded he go, and that was all.
Smoke rose from the cowboy's vice and was quickly agitated by the breeze that was picking up as it came off the flat lands beyond them. The detective thought perhaps to be like them and still with great affection, your memories had to be the same. Some kept, most phantoms stolen by a gust.
"Family photos it is." And he raised the camera before his face, closed one eye, and fired away.
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