recolle | [Closed] Of Wind and Sand

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[Closed] Of Wind and Sand

WHO: Penelope and Freya
WHERE: Pen's Apartment
WHEN: June 19th
WHAT: An important conversation and some other things
WARNINGS: Language, alcohol, discussion of violence, and kissing

After the events of the previous night, staying up all night to watch and keep her teammates safe, a sound sleep was just what the doctor had ordered. She'd been quite serious about it when she said she was going to conk out for most of the day. It wasn't that all nighters were anything new, no, but the forest had been...unsettling...to say the least.

She hadn't forgotten her promise, either. Drinks with Freya that night, as much to help them celebrate surviving a horror movie as to make a difficult conversation about their troubles easier. Getting up in time to actually make it to the liquor store had been a challenge but she'd picked up some good stuff. Strong whiskey, a bottle of Fireball, a good bourbon her father had liked, and all the stuff to make a few of the classics like a Manhattan. Not all for tonight, mind, but what college student's room was complete without an enormous assortment of spirits?

Come nightfall, she's sitting around waiting for Freya to arrive, idly scraping a knife along the staff she'd been slowly whittling for a costume.

Just come right in. Door's open and I'm watching TV. the text had said, so whenever her friend arrived, she'd be waiting.

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The humor is what gets her. Pen laughs softly, and smiles much more brightly than she had before. It's easier, somehow, knowing that Freya feels that way, so she shifts a little closer, closes her eyes, and rests her head on the taller woman's shoulder.

"I'm glad to hear it. Means something, coming from you," she says simply, but one eye opens a crack. There's at least a little mischief back, now, but it's tinged around the edges with concern.

"And maybe I'll tell you sometime. But I...think it's your turn? Did something else happen?"

Edited 2017-06-24 03:38 (UTC)

Freya's smile turned into something more wry, though she didn't tense up like she had last time. "You are a sharp one. Alright, alright."

She turns her gaze to the ceiling for several seconds before answer. Glancing away to far corners tended to be how Freya expressed nerves.

And really, while the vision of the massacre had been jarring and raw and personal, and she was sure she'd see it in her nightmare for weeks—maybe even months—to come, this one almost disturbed her more. So many of Freya's friends had put significant stock in these "other selves," she hesitated to tell them, scared of what they might assume.

"It's just another vision. No literal earth-shattering or anything. Most of it doesn't even make sense; there's this guy driving some crazy motorcycle over crazier, looping roadways—I could swear they were made out of ice. I was—"

Freya stops abruptly for a deep breath. "She sitting on the back of this thing, and they're surrounded by all these guys in uniforms I've never seen before, bullets flying everywhere. She was a damn good shot, all considered. Mowed down a few of them." Somehow, Freya kept her voice steady, this time. No murmurs, to quiet hesitation. "She didn't seem concerned about the whole thing."

No, she lied. Here was a little bit of murmuring and quiet hesitation, the words slipping out of Freya's mouth before she could think. "...I don't think any of it was fake. It was exhilarating."

Penelope listens in silence, quiet and just taking that in, noting the shift in the demeanor. This is...definitely really, really heavy, undoubtedly bothering her far more than she would show just anyone. And it drew her up short when the image was described. The bike thing seemed kind of neat, but there was a look in her eyes of dawning comprehension and concern at the mention of...well...

Freya's other self? That was the only thing she could think, and by the end, it was obvious why it bothered her. Remembering...well hell...what sounded like a scene from a Trambo movie. Might seem cool on screen but when you really thought about it, all those soldiers had friends and lives and families.

She immediately set the drink back down and wrapped Freya up in a hug. "And it wasn't you. It was someone in another world. Not Freya. That...sounds really heavy, and I'm sorry you saw that. But like you said about Noah, that's not you."

Freya sets a hand on the shorter girl's arm in acknowledgement and gives it a grateful squeeze, leaning her head against the top of Pen's. It was a bit of an irrational fear—Freya liked to think she knew Penelope better than that—and not a very strong one, but it had stuck in the back of her mind like a small burr; it was relieving to know that "memories" about casual killing like that hadn't scared her away.

Hell, it didn't really even seem to phase her. That made the corner of Freya's mouth turn up.

"That's what I keep tellin' myself. It's... disorienting, you know? Working my ass off to get a job helpin' people, then to... watch her gun them down so easily and feel a rush of all things from it. I don't know what Retrospec's trying to do, but I'm sick of it."

Memories of casually killing people were a far cry from anything Pen could believe about Freya. Or herself. It wouldn't have been just for fun, ever. If it had happened, it was for a damn good reason, just like how she remembered fighting tooth and nail against Ghis and his men. It had seemed the logical conclusion that they would've died.

So, why should this phase her? Hell, it was crazy, but she was more sure of Freya than that.

"It is. Like...fighting monsters was one thing. But that fight with Ghis? I'm sure people died there. And I don't wanna think too hard about that other Penelope, and how she got mixed up in it. It's fucked up, but you know, that isn't you. You are helping people. I can't believe you'd do anything like that, not unless you had a reason. Them being good or bad doesn't change that it's hard to bear, I know, but that's not you."

"Mm. A little context for that whole circus show would've been nice." More than a little nice. There was a lot she'd do to understand how the hell these stupid visions were linked, and what they meant. What was with that stupid sci-fi motorcycle, anyway?

Freya pats Pen on the arm before she sits up, chuckling dryly to herself. "Listen to me. You've gotten me babbling about that before I'm even through my second glass." Which the taller woman immediately remedies, polishing off the remainder. The sweet, spiced burn was a welcome thing to focus on instead; she's been good about her introspective soul-searching today.

"Hey, I'm about ready for three, if you are," Pen says with a laugh after finishing the last dregs of her second.

It's nice, having this to take some of the edge off a lot of the heavy conversation. It makes it easier somehow, and not just because of the looser tongue.

"Or we can take a break?"

After setting her empty glass down Freya shoots her an amused look.

"A break? From drinking? Just what kind of college student are you?"

Though despite her ribbing, Freya really didn't mind. She knew she'd feel better tomorrow for the pacing.

"Hah! Pacing myself seems better than dying a slow, terrible death tomorrow morning."

Pen hopped back up and was gone only a moment or two, this time with refills and two bottles of water. The drink had less booze than before, stepping down a bit.

"Water and a drink for the lady," came the reply and down she went, right back into that comfortable hugging position.

"Ever the gracious host, aren't we, princess?"

The taller woman stubbornly takes a sip of the alcohol first, as if to prove some point she really didn't care about. She does set it down responsibly, taking up the water and leaning into Pen's hug.

"Appreciate it. Everything—not just the water."

"Of course. Any time."

Pen took a sip of her liquor first too, a little more slowly, and then definitely switched to the water. That seemed better, even if...well...she couldn't help but keep thinking about that one comment from earlier, now that the cloud over them seemed to have faded.

"Anything for a lovely lady," she added with a slightly nervous laugh.

Freya chuckles lazily. "Aww, that's so sweet of you. Gracious and chivalrous. It's my lucky day."

She pauses for water, then adds playfully, "You bring booze and water to all the lovely ladies, or am I special?"

Pen's about to say something flippant but that...draws her up sharply. She stops...looks away, looks back...

"...Maybe you are?" she replies with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Freya turns a curious look at the shorter girl's sudden pause. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise when she finally connects the dots. Hell, Freya had just been joking around.

She found she didn't particularly mind. A mischievous grin blooms across her face. "...that so? Why didn't you just come out and say it?"

Well. That grin was pretty par for the course, and she was about 99% sure that Freya wasn't the sort of person who got angry when someone said she was attractive. And they'd been kinda sitting there, hugging one another all night, so she smiles back and laughs to herself. Because, well hell, they were being honest. No reason to be embarrassed now, too late.

"Mostly fear of rejection. Don't really peg you for the type to get upset if someone likes you, so mostly that." And it's not like either of them is in middle school or anything.

To be fair, Freya would've still cuddled even if Pen's interest was platonic. She was of the mind that the things they've spoken about tonight aren't things you discuss from opposite sides of the couch.

She starts tracing idle patterns on the Pen's arm with the hand hanging loosely off her shoulder. Freya's grin softens a little, seeing the smaller woman smile like that, but the mischief is still there. "You're cute, honest. You've got an adventurous spirit and a good head on your shoulders. What's there to say no to?"

So would she. But that didn't change anything right now, because, well, her brain just record-scratched. The light in her eyes sparks and her eyebrows shoot up, making her already somewhat large eyes seem even bigger. Head tilting away to look up at Freya, she takes a breath.

"You...really aren't kidding." And that's not a question. "You feel the same way I do. Geez, now I feel dumb for not just saying it straight out."

"Yeah, guess I do." Freya takes a deep, satisfied breath before she's smirking again. Then, she tilts her head forward, before touching her forehead against Pen's.

"So, you gonna settle for just hearing it?" She murmured, now that she was so close.

Pen's eyes hover in that place just between open and closed, a surprised haze just sort of settling over her like a blanket. A warm, comfortable, weirdly familiar Australian blanket. This was...actually happening.

Well holy shit was about the last cogent thought she had before her mouth was moving again. Staying quiet came naturally at times, but that wasn't...them.

"...Not on your life."

And then she closes the gap, lips pressing quickly against Freya's, a gentle, probing kiss. Not hesitant in the slightest, just...curious, trying to get acquainted before pushing any further.

Edited 2017-06-24 23:06 (UTC)

It was happening. That fact felt less overwhelming than it would have otherwise, if no less enjoyable for it, like the universe meant it to happen—though that was probably the alcohol's influence.

The contact was soft and warm, and her arm moves to coil around Pen's waist. Hell, everything felt warm, and Freya could happily attribute that to her elation and speeding pulse, not the liquor.

And it was over, too quickly. Freya didn't even think to to pull back and gauge Pen's reaction; the alcohol urged her to pursue that addicting warmth, and she eagerly presses in again, a little more aggressively this time.

It was definitely at least some part the alcohol, dulling wits as it does. Pen doesn't mind though, not like this. She'd gone into the conversation knowing how she felt, as it'd clicked previously. She assumes it's much the same for the other woman now holding her.

Shifting without breaking the second kiss, she slides up and over, straddling Freya's lap to make it easier. They weren't that different in height, but it was awkward being half held and craning upward. She dances into the sensation, meeting Freya's aggression with her own ardor, the taste of cinnamon heavy on both their lips masking the bitter alcohol a bit. She holds out longer this time, breaking only when her lungs burn for air, pulling back long enough to breathe.

"...you're good at this..." she manages before flitting in for another round.

Freya makes a low sound in her throat as Pen slides over her lap, and only just stops herself from ditching the water bottle she's still holding on the ground.

"Good at other things, too," slips out before Freya can think about it; she's blunt and flirtatious, yes, but she's normally not that incredibly forward—not to mention how horribly corny it is. The third kiss spares Freya from dwelling on it, luckily, and she nips gently at Pen's bottom lip, her enthusiasm a little greater each time they come back together.

"Hah," Pen snickers against Freya's lips, matching her step for step. Her arms reach around her partner's neck, pulling her close. Kissing more deeply, she held the other woman's mouth more firmly, nipping right back.

This is not quite where she'd expected the night to go, but complaining is the furthest thing from her mind. All that's really important in the moment is the warmth in front of her, those whipcord muscles, soft lips, strong hands holding her in place. Yes, this was exactly what she'd hoped it might be, Freya's enthusiasm washing away any and all doubts that it might just have been the alcohol.

Well, this was definitely not where Freya expected the night to do. She fully expected to be dozing off, drunk off her ass, not drunk on sensation and affection and a steadily growing want. At the very least, she didn't expect this to escalate so quickly—not that she was complaining.

She reevaluates her previous decision and tosses the water bottle on the floor with a mental fuck it; there wasn't much water in it anyway, and it was only water, at that. Freya tilts her head into the kiss with a pleased hum, and with both her hands free to focus on more important things, starts slowly trailing them along Pen's outer thighs, from hip to knee and back again.

She'd need to stop for an extended breathing break soon, her racing heart devouring what little oxygen she's getting. Freya didn't want to stop; she's had her share of dates and hook ups, but she's never had anything this charged, that makes her stomach twist in that good kind of way, and she wanted more of it.

Penelope feels that same burn, that same...hunger...and she embraces it just as eagerly as Freya. There's a need there, and a grateful feeling too, knowing that she is wanted and not just pushing herself on this other person. She's had her fair share of dates and relations, but this is different. That knowledge strikes her like a bolt of lightning, driving her to be even more forward than normal. Her whole being buzzes with energy, head tilting to practically melt against the taller woman, fingernails scratching at her back through the fabric of her shirt.

Eventually though, her heartbeat still hammering in her chest, her head growing a little light, she has to break off. A gasp for air, her head shifting aside to rest against Freya's cheek, she takes a long and raspy breath.

"...good at that, too. Been ages since anyone took my breath away."

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