#interactions ── caston & eris .

[elpida]

@barkskins !

this was by far her favourite safe den, or house.. but then it wasn't really a house more than a place to recoup and recover. it was her favourite because of the huge window panes. on stormy nights when the rain pelted against them like tonight, she found the sound soothing. she'd never admit anything like that, enjoying the sound of rain, that was something far too soft for the most stubborn woman to walk the earth. she liked to act like she hated everything, almost everything.. she didn't exactly hate caston but that was another secret she'd keep.

she was practicing her aim, a pinned up and rather haphazard target the other end of the room but in one swift movement she threw a knife that whistled in the air and buried into that sign with precision and speed. then again, the same ferocious attack but slightly to the left of the first. the next whistled right by caston and into the door frame beside his arm. that's when she turned with her devilish grin. "oops, i slipped." she didn't slip. eris never missed. "don't tell me you've got yourself in some form of shit show and need my help getting out of it? i can wait, you know, for the grovelling." she twirled, hands clutching her chest in a pleading motion. "oh please eris, light of my life, lend me your aid i've been an idiot." she mocked in a deep tone that didn't suit her, but the quiet giggle did. "...you're not sulking with me over the knife are you? or was it the impression? i thought it was a quite a good impression." she didn't find him unbearable like most so, she didn't really mind him being around... and this teasing mockery was her idea of trying to get along with someone.

[barkskins]

those that thought criminals were beyond redemption had never met one. they had never held the soft skin of a woman in their arms, felt the shuddering of her breath, caught the aromas of jasmine and tea thickly as they danced through the air. giving up on eris, walking away and deciding that she was simply competition, was something that caston would have never been able to do. it showed in the softness, in the way that he treated her skin as though it had never known pain before. they were both accustomed to it, the discomfort and violence that marred every wrong turn in their lives, but for that night they could pretend that everything was okay, that the world didn’t exist beyond them. oh, what a blessing. “that should be okay now.” he leaned back once he was done, admiring his handiwork—for somebody who gripped rubber wheels and swerved as though his life depended on it, his touch had been like a delicate embroiderer. all that tarmac and grease and gasoline had been replaced by a man that simply cared about a woman; nothing more. “like i said, you need to keep as upright as possible. i know it’s going to feel natural to lay down and nurse your bruises but keeping straight will help you heal a little more quickly.” caston silently cursed himself and shook his head. “you probably know all this, but i don’t want you to hurt yourself any more. you’re safe here. if you can, stay here for a while—a few days—to rest and fuel so you don’t have to worry about anyone on the outside.” for that was where the real enemies were. that was where the true evil lingered. eris and caston weren’t inherently bad people; it was clear in the softness of their eyes, in the hesitation, in their gentle touches. he was ready to turn, clean up the supplies, and leave to find a room in the safe house for some well-deserved rest, when he heard the crack of eris’s voice and his own name from her lips. caston turned back, admiring her features—those round, dark eyes and her auburn tresses—before replying in a breath, “yes?”

"i'm a burden to everyone i've ever known, caston." in that moment, eris spoke softer and quieter than she ever had before. there was some truth behind the words she spoke, or at least a conviction in her belief of them. part of her knew it from being old enough to think, she was a bother, a presence in the room that wasn't wanted, a pain and who wanted to help the biggest pain in the room? nobody. that's why shew as so used to being harsh, to being cold and to remain alone. alone was safe to her, it is what she knew.

jasmine, that's was the scent that lingered on her skin, jasmine and tea leaves. it wasn't overly floral, she wasn't a floral person in the slightest but there was an underlying sweetness there and it was the type of subtle sweetness that could become so quickly addictive. she'd stayed as still as she could, she barely made a groan of discomfort, instead she breathed deeper, let the rise and fall of her chest quicken but wen it was done she was.. thankful. more than she would be to anyone else because he hadn't made a single move to cause her pain, he didn't punish her for showing weakness. he didn't do anything but show her that she could trust his hands on her skin, that the warmth she felt from his touch wasn't a heat she should fear or lash out at.

she was a goddess, burning and bright, a deity of destruction but gods above she made it desirable, she made her chaos a work of art and bathed in the glory of it, free of shame. that head of flaming auburn hair was her crown and eris had no idea the beauty that she possessed. she was the girl never lost for words but caston took her head in his hands and she stilled. she was so still, so different in this light. at first she held her breath, her eyes locked on to his. she looked torn between running a million miles and half like this was the first time she knew something so gentle. her lips were parted slightly, her breath hot. "caston?" her voice was barely a whisper and her own hands moved up, all though hesitant she rest them over the back of his palms, a light and uncertain hover but... she didn't drag his hands away, she didn't yank herself back.

[elpida]

"i'm a burden to everyone i've ever known, caston." in that moment, eris spoke softer and quieter than she ever had before. there was some truth behind the words she spoke, or at least a conviction in her belief of them. part of her knew it from being old enough to think, she was a bother, a presence in the room that wasn't wanted, a pain and who wanted to help the biggest pain in the room? nobody. that's why shew as so used to being harsh, to being cold and to remain alone. alone was safe to her, it is what she knew.

jasmine, that's was the scent that lingered on her skin, jasmine and tea leaves. it wasn't overly floral, she wasn't a floral person in the slightest but there was an underlying sweetness there and it was the type of subtle sweetness that could become so quickly addictive. she'd stayed as still as she could, she barely made a groan of discomfort, instead she breathed deeper, let the rise and fall of her chest quicken but wen it was done she was.. thankful. more than she would be to anyone else because he hadn't made a single move to cause her pain, he didn't punish her for showing weakness. he didn't do anything but show her that she could trust his hands on her skin, that the warmth she felt from his touch wasn't a heat she should fear or lash out at.

she was a goddess, burning and bright, a deity of destruction but gods above she made it desirable, she made her chaos a work of art and bathed in the glory of it, free of shame. that head of flaming auburn hair was her crown and eris had no idea the beauty that she possessed. she was the girl never lost for words but caston took her head in his hands and she stilled. she was so still, so different in this light. at first she held her breath, her eyes locked on to his. she looked torn between running a million miles and half like this was the first time she knew something so gentle. her lips were parted slightly, her breath hot. "caston?" her voice was barely a whisper and her own hands moved up, all though hesitant she rest them over the back of his palms, a light and uncertain hover but... she didn't drag his hands away, she didn't yank herself back.

the life of a criminal was one that didn’t answer to logic or reason. it was evident, from eris’s words, that her mind worked the same as his—that everything was an obligation, that they were both mice running up the walls of their cages in a desperate attempt to break free. “you’re not a burden,” caston responded indignantly, holding the tops of her shoulders and meeting his dark eyes with hers, “you could never be a burden to me. believe me,” his lips twisted into a smile, one that mustered all the reassurance he could, “i don’t do things i don’t want to do. now, please, let me look at you . . . if you want me to leave it, i’ll leave it, but i can’t sit here knowing you’re hurting.” he was no professional—certainly no doctor—but he knew enough. his movements were soft, as gentle as he could get away with whilst still cleaning the bruising, making sure that nothing would stick and cause infection, or heal over and be trapped within her skin forever. in that moment of vulnerability he could have easily twisted his hand deeply against her ribs, grabbed her head and harshly twisted it to the side. but caston didn’t. he remained soft, delicate, patient, without even the thinnest thread of a desire to hurt. “not at all,” the getaway driver mumbled, his concentration adding a heaviness to his voice; he was close enough to her skin to be able to smell her skin, her natural scent his own personal and perfect perfume. once the wound was cleaned the best that he could muster, he took the roll of gauze and harshly cut a length of the material. it just about covered the now clean wound, and he tore strips of medical tape to secure it against eris’s skin—to protect, to shield, to stop her clothes bumping and rubbing and causing even further discomfort. “don’t,” caston soothed, allowing his hands to drop, his gaze lifting as though he were paying his admiration to a saint. the sepia glow of the lights surrounded her head like a halo, casting an amber haze about her head that, if he hadn’t already been on his knees, would have sent them wobbling. he swallowed, hard, his eyes instead focusing on eris’s pearlescent sheen. “hey, no, no. you didn’t hurt me. you were just messing around,” unthinking, caston took her head in his hands. “its okay.”

[barkskins]

the life of a criminal was one that didn’t answer to logic or reason. it was evident, from eris’s words, that her mind worked the same as his—that everything was an obligation, that they were both mice running up the walls of their cages in a desperate attempt to break free. “you’re not a burden,” caston responded indignantly, holding the tops of her shoulders and meeting his dark eyes with hers, “you could never be a burden to me. believe me,” his lips twisted into a smile, one that mustered all the reassurance he could, “i don’t do things i don’t want to do. now, please, let me look at you . . . if you want me to leave it, i’ll leave it, but i can’t sit here knowing you’re hurting.” he was no professional—certainly no doctor—but he knew enough. his movements were soft, as gentle as he could get away with whilst still cleaning the bruising, making sure that nothing would stick and cause infection, or heal over and be trapped within her skin forever. in that moment of vulnerability he could have easily twisted his hand deeply against her ribs, grabbed her head and harshly twisted it to the side. but caston didn’t. he remained soft, delicate, patient, without even the thinnest thread of a desire to hurt. “not at all,” the getaway driver mumbled, his concentration adding a heaviness to his voice; he was close enough to her skin to be able to smell her skin, her natural scent his own personal and perfect perfume. once the wound was cleaned the best that he could muster, he took the roll of gauze and harshly cut a length of the material. it just about covered the now clean wound, and he tore strips of medical tape to secure it against eris’s skin—to protect, to shield, to stop her clothes bumping and rubbing and causing even further discomfort. “don’t,” caston soothed, allowing his hands to drop, his gaze lifting as though he were paying his admiration to a saint. the sepia glow of the lights surrounded her head like a halo, casting an amber haze about her head that, if he hadn’t already been on his knees, would have sent them wobbling. he swallowed, hard, his eyes instead focusing on eris’s pearlescent sheen. “hey, no, no. you didn’t hurt me. you were just messing around,” unthinking, caston took her head in his hands. “its okay.”

"saying that makes me a burden and... and burdens dont get the work done..." she wasn't saying it to be sarcastic and cruel, it was just how her brain worked. the more she could ignore and push through, the better she'd be. no room for letting her reputation slip, but the girl laid there, so timid when it came to being touched, was not the same eris that wielded her knives with expert flair and precision. this version of eris was the one so few got to see, the real her, the one hidden behind her walls and masks.

"don't i? deserve to suffer?" she asked, for a moment she sounded soft, the bite taken from her tone. she was watching every single movement, from retrieving the supplies he needed to help and settled back on the floor in front of her. "i know, i'll sit up soon.." she admitted and then her face scrunched and god, she knew he was trying to be gentle, he was being so damn gentle and all she could think was that gentle or not.. all other hands did was hurt her. that is all humans hands ended up doing and it rang alarm bells in her head.

eris was breathing through flared nostrils, trying to control every urge to tear away. "fine- peachy-" she managed two gritted out words. despite the way she tried to fight the urge she with one swift movement she had wrapped her fingers around caston's forearm to stop any motion of dabbing by twisting. at first the grip was tight, a clear sweat on her forehead but after a few seconds her fingers loosened their grip. "i'm sorry." she never apologised but she knew she had to let him help, it was clearly just hard for her to let someone do that. "sorry." she repeated. "i find this hard." well at least for once eris was being brutally honest and not hiding behind sarcasm. whilst she'd never let them fall down her cheeks, there was a glint of tears forming in her eyes. "i didn't mean to.. did i hurt you? i never meant to i just... i didn't think. i'm sorry caston."

[elpida]

"saying that makes me a burden and... and burdens dont get the work done..." she wasn't saying it to be sarcastic and cruel, it was just how her brain worked. the more she could ignore and push through, the better she'd be. no room for letting her reputation slip, but the girl laid there, so timid when it came to being touched, was not the same eris that wielded her knives with expert flair and precision. this version of eris was the one so few got to see, the real her, the one hidden behind her walls and masks.

"don't i? deserve to suffer?" she asked, for a moment she sounded soft, the bite taken from her tone. she was watching every single movement, from retrieving the supplies he needed to help and settled back on the floor in front of her. "i know, i'll sit up soon.." she admitted and then her face scrunched and god, she knew he was trying to be gentle, he was being so damn gentle and all she could think was that gentle or not.. all other hands did was hurt her. that is all humans hands ended up doing and it rang alarm bells in her head.

eris was breathing through flared nostrils, trying to control every urge to tear away. "fine- peachy-" she managed two gritted out words. despite the way she tried to fight the urge she with one swift movement she had wrapped her fingers around caston's forearm to stop any motion of dabbing by twisting. at first the grip was tight, a clear sweat on her forehead but after a few seconds her fingers loosened their grip. "i'm sorry." she never apologised but she knew she had to let him help, it was clearly just hard for her to let someone do that. "sorry." she repeated. "i find this hard." well at least for once eris was being brutally honest and not hiding behind sarcasm. whilst she'd never let them fall down her cheeks, there was a glint of tears forming in her eyes. "i didn't mean to.. did i hurt you? i never meant to i just... i didn't think. i'm sorry caston."

caston was more of a background man. plausible deniability. he could claim to the police, if apprehended, that he was merely speeding because his cat was unwell at the vet, or that his grandma was on her last legs in hospital. blood was rarely on his own hands, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been injured on the job. it wasn’t the usual workplace incident—he wouldn’t get a hefty payout, paid time off, or a simple dodgy hip with insurance-paid physical therapy. one mistake meant death, or at the very least a few weeks of no pay, slurping instant ramen, holding frozen peas to the offending areas. there had been moments where he had needed to patch himself up after a particularly nasty heist, if the car flipped and rolled down a bank or if a flying bullet grazed his flesh. alcohol and gauze filled his bathroom cabinets alongside a plethora of pain killers—some legal, some otherwise—to help with the lingering soreness. caston was best at driving, but he wasn’t too bad at being a nurse either. “you could have told me that you’re suffering, that you’re hurt. you could have told me anything, eris. i know it’s me . . . ” there was a thin veil of hatred that was as translucent as wet tissue paper. in the moment, it was difficult to believe it was there at all. “but we have to stick together.” caston lowered onto his knees to inspect the wound, the water colour of pigment—yellows and purples and sore, angry pinks. “all of this is our fault. it doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer for it.” he sighed and peeled away to find the first-aid kit clinging to the wall; he pulled painkillers, antiseptic and gauze from the box, leaving it hanging open in case he needed to return for more supplies. he returned to his position on the floor, twisting off the cap of the bottle as he inspected the wound for any debris. it looked clean, but caston didn’t want to take his chances. “it’s gonna suck. i know you already know, but don’t stay laying down for too long. you gotta be upright. you gotta feel the pain.” he dabbed with a softness that didn't seem to belong to him. “how's that feeling?”

[barkskins]

caston was more of a background man. plausible deniability. he could claim to the police, if apprehended, that he was merely speeding because his cat was unwell at the vet, or that his grandma was on her last legs in hospital. blood was rarely on his own hands, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been injured on the job. it wasn’t the usual workplace incident—he wouldn’t get a hefty payout, paid time off, or a simple dodgy hip with insurance-paid physical therapy. one mistake meant death, or at the very least a few weeks of no pay, slurping instant ramen, holding frozen peas to the offending areas. there had been moments where he had needed to patch himself up after a particularly nasty heist, if the car flipped and rolled down a bank or if a flying bullet grazed his flesh. alcohol and gauze filled his bathroom cabinets alongside a plethora of pain killers—some legal, some otherwise—to help with the lingering soreness. caston was best at driving, but he wasn’t too bad at being a nurse either. “you could have told me that you’re suffering, that you’re hurt. you could have told me anything, eris. i know it’s me . . . ” there was a thin veil of hatred that was as translucent as wet tissue paper. in the moment, it was difficult to believe it was there at all. “but we have to stick together.” caston lowered onto his knees to inspect the wound, the water colour of pigment—yellows and purples and sore, angry pinks. “all of this is our fault. it doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer for it.” he sighed and peeled away to find the first-aid kit clinging to the wall; he pulled painkillers, antiseptic and gauze from the box, leaving it hanging open in case he needed to return for more supplies. he returned to his position on the floor, twisting off the cap of the bottle as he inspected the wound for any debris. it looked clean, but caston didn’t want to take his chances. “it’s gonna suck. i know you already know, but don’t stay laying down for too long. you gotta be upright. you gotta feel the pain.” he dabbed with a softness that didn't seem to belong to him. “how's that feeling?”

she would never have let it slide, if only she hadn't winced. eris had felt pain time and time again but it was the way it kept catching her breath and making her lungs feel like fire that bothered her. little miss fire and flame was more of.. a dull ember right now and that just wasn't her. she always had comebacks and quips, never letting her guard down. "it's fine... i'm fine." no she wasn't, she stood still, as if moving was going to make it worse.

part of her felt like a scolded girl, tempted to storm away in a tantrum of being seen like this... but better caston than anyone else, and if he breathed word of it? she'd never let it go. "what was there to say?" eris moved slowly, holding her hand cautiously around her middle. "it's not that bad, that's why it's just... sore. it's sore." finally, the steel woman did have a weakness, she did make faults. she sat with a very noticeable clenching in her jaw until she was sprawled and trying to compose herself again.

eris hesitated. the thought of someone touching her, of letting hands be near her skin, that unnerved her, the way her brows pulled showed it. she stared at him, trying to decipher him, like she could decode his hands to determine their intent. eventually she nodded, her own hands moving to shimmy her shirt up slowly, ever so slowly. her skin was laden with purple bruises, yellowing on the edges but the worst of it surrounded her lower ribs, spreading around her side, blood lying under the surface in mottled specks. she was right to say it looked sore, tender even and in that moment, for the first time she looked small, fragile, her petite frame tensing like his fingers were going to do something cruel. it's why she hesitated with peoples hands, she'd never known hands that weren't intending to take something from you, they never just helped. "it was my own fault." she spoke softer than usual, but either way the scrapes, the drags clearly from being scraped across concrete, they needed cleaning.

[elpida]

she would never have let it slide, if only she hadn't winced. eris had felt pain time and time again but it was the way it kept catching her breath and making her lungs feel like fire that bothered her. little miss fire and flame was more of.. a dull ember right now and that just wasn't her. she always had comebacks and quips, never letting her guard down. "it's fine... i'm fine." no she wasn't, she stood still, as if moving was going to make it worse.

part of her felt like a scolded girl, tempted to storm away in a tantrum of being seen like this... but better caston than anyone else, and if he breathed word of it? she'd never let it go. "what was there to say?" eris moved slowly, holding her hand cautiously around her middle. "it's not that bad, that's why it's just... sore. it's sore." finally, the steel woman did have a weakness, she did make faults. she sat with a very noticeable clenching in her jaw until she was sprawled and trying to compose herself again.

eris hesitated. the thought of someone touching her, of letting hands be near her skin, that unnerved her, the way her brows pulled showed it. she stared at him, trying to decipher him, like she could decode his hands to determine their intent. eventually she nodded, her own hands moving to shimmy her shirt up slowly, ever so slowly. her skin was laden with purple bruises, yellowing on the edges but the worst of it surrounded her lower ribs, spreading around her side, blood lying under the surface in mottled specks. she was right to say it looked sore, tender even and in that moment, for the first time she looked small, fragile, her petite frame tensing like his fingers were going to do something cruel. it's why she hesitated with peoples hands, she'd never known hands that weren't intending to take something from you, they never just helped. "it was my own fault." she spoke softer than usual, but either way the scrapes, the drags clearly from being scraped across concrete, they needed cleaning.

caston would have never claimed he was very good at communicating with women. he could troubleshoot any sound in his car, wherever it was coming from, but when it came to the miniscule twitches of eris’ features, he was blind. “you never struck me as the peaceful type,” he replied, but perhaps that was where her magic came from—she was a firecracker, a cherry bomb into the flames. her hair matched the burning passion that seemed to walk with her in every stride. caston was about ready to lie back, close his eyes, and catch twenty minutes of rest, but eris’ wince brought him from his stupor. instantly, he stood up straight and shot across the safehouse. as though there had been no animosity between them whatsoever. “hey . . . ” mumbled the driver, a subtle air of concern weighting his words if she took a moment to identify it, “what's going on?” his hands were too rough for him to ever consider laying them upon eris. she could handle herself—caston knew that—but he had rough edges, a heavy heart. she was more of a woman than he ever thought he deserved. “come on, sit down. you're hurt. why didn't you say anything?” although the words seemed as though they were scolding, his speech kept a steady intonation. it was gruff and caught in his throat, but there was a softness beneath. a genuine concern. “can i . . . ” he thought his words were stupid before he even said them, swallowing his pride, meeting her gaze, “can i touch you? i want to make sure you're okay.”

[barkskins]

caston would have never claimed he was very good at communicating with women. he could troubleshoot any sound in his car, wherever it was coming from, but when it came to the miniscule twitches of eris’ features, he was blind. “you never struck me as the peaceful type,” he replied, but perhaps that was where her magic came from—she was a firecracker, a cherry bomb into the flames. her hair matched the burning passion that seemed to walk with her in every stride. caston was about ready to lie back, close his eyes, and catch twenty minutes of rest, but eris’ wince brought him from his stupor. instantly, he stood up straight and shot across the safehouse. as though there had been no animosity between them whatsoever. “hey . . . ” mumbled the driver, a subtle air of concern weighting his words if she took a moment to identify it, “what's going on?” his hands were too rough for him to ever consider laying them upon eris. she could handle herself—caston knew that—but he had rough edges, a heavy heart. she was more of a woman than he ever thought he deserved. “come on, sit down. you're hurt. why didn't you say anything?” although the words seemed as though they were scolding, his speech kept a steady intonation. it was gruff and caught in his throat, but there was a softness beneath. a genuine concern. “can i . . . ” he thought his words were stupid before he even said them, swallowing his pride, meeting her gaze, “can i touch you? i want to make sure you're okay.”

"well peace is never really on my agenda, bit quiet for my liking or at least it sounds it." and peace, quiet... solitude, it didn't sound easy to cope with. how many things would come to haunt her if she let the quiet draw in? she couldn't deal with that today, she couldn't deal with every ghost in this goddamn safe house out to get her. truthfully she didn't spend a lot of time here but she'd been hit pretty rough last night, the worse of her bruising lie out of sight, under her top and on her ribs and that was going to take a day or two to feel better when she breathed in. at present it felt like a sharp stab each time she moved a certain way. she couldn't risk wincing on a job so waiting would have to do and she just so happened to be the queen of impatience.

there was a moment she genuinely looked like she was in pain too, a moment she considered collapsing onto the sofa and leaving it at that. she was not good at taking care of herself, she'd not got herself ice or anything to help take the edge off, god some ice would've really helped. "right." she spoke sterner, dark eyebrows raising briefly. "you know i was just teasing but if you want to be like that be my guest, enjoy your peac-" she turned to leave, to walk away but christ she'd winced, that natural reaction to bring her hand up to the pain on her lower ribs kicked in and she didn't mean to give anything away, ever. eris always seemed invincible, seeing her experiencing something so simply human was almost as rare as a pig flying.

[barkskins]

“we’re not going because they’re genocidal maniacs.” but who was caston to say such things, when those he ran with were just as bad—bloodthirsty killers that took lives for spare change. he had come to the safe house for a getaway, for a haven away from the danger and constant bloodshed. the more eris spoke, the more he wanted to wring her neck simply for some peace and quiet. “it’s fine. i really doubt anything that doordash can offer is going to sweeten this deal. i just had a crazy chase and was almost run off the road, i just want to be able to kick back in peace, and you and peace never seem to walk hand in hand.” the woman might have been wielding a knife, but his heart rate never faltered or rose. she was beautiful, even with her purpled and bruised skin, those imperfections adding to her elegance. perhaps being a criminal for as long as he had been had skewed his opinion on what was attractive. he stood still as eris approached. dark eyes surveyed her, and identified every mark and blemish that their lifestyle had brought them. caston had his own scars, marks up his side from nasty crashes or licks to the guardrails. there were even a few pockmarks where bullets had grazed him; as much as he insisted that he was only the driver, there were moments where it had been impossible to shield himself from collateral. “i can handle a lot more than you give me credit for, eris.” she was using his name. two could play at that game. "just because i'm not one of these crazed murderous brutes doesn't mean i couldn't handle you if we went head to head. but my skills are driving. i'm not a fighter. you keep at what you're good at, and i'll stay in my lane." but together they would make a good team, he couldn't deny that.

"oh woe is me to disappoint you, caston." she did get a little bit of amusement from the starbucks comment though. "what, you not much of a mocha frappucino guy?" her smirk was usually one of two things, filled with deadly intent or sarcastic amusement and this was the later. the prior would never be a good nor welcome thing. "we can't go for a starbucks, mainly because they're over priced and fucking boring, but i can order us something if that'd help your mood." for her that was the extension of friendship, she wasn't the type to go over and offer a hug, she wasn't the type to show affection physically.. be it at all but she'd known caston long enough to consider him someone that she at least enjoyed talking to.

"caston, sweetheart, darling, i'm not sure you'd be able to handle my lust." she turned, knife in her hand, twirling the point in her fingertip and tilting her head in his direction. quietly observing. "i could walk across this room and throw myself at you and i think you'd be terrified." she pouted . "because i'm stupidly, wildly in love with you. obviously." slowly she started making her way over to him. she had a few new bruises, must have been someone big she went against because she was usually unmarked. "i think your hands would tremble." eris squinted, eyes flicking to his hands and then she wedges her knife into a table where she usually kept them upright, ready to take easily. "either that or you'd say please eris, so easily."

[elpida]

"oh woe is me to disappoint you, caston." she did get a little bit of amusement from the starbucks comment though. "what, you not much of a mocha frappucino guy?" her smirk was usually one of two things, filled with deadly intent or sarcastic amusement and this was the later. the prior would never be a good nor welcome thing. "we can't go for a starbucks, mainly because they're over priced and fucking boring, but i can order us something if that'd help your mood." for her that was the extension of friendship, she wasn't the type to go over and offer a hug, she wasn't the type to show affection physically.. be it at all but she'd known caston long enough to consider him someone that she at least enjoyed talking to.

"caston, sweetheart, darling, i'm not sure you'd be able to handle my lust." she turned, knife in her hand, twirling the point in her fingertip and tilting her head in his direction. quietly observing. "i could walk across this room and throw myself at you and i think you'd be terrified." she pouted . "because i'm stupidly, wildly in love with you. obviously." slowly she started making her way over to him. she had a few new bruises, must have been someone big she went against because she was usually unmarked. "i think your hands would tremble." eris squinted, eyes flicking to his hands and then she wedges her knife into a table where she usually kept them upright, ready to take easily. "either that or you'd say please eris, so easily."

caston’s palms were still sore against the callouses from clutching the steering wheel so damn tight. his straw-like blonde hair was thrust backwards, windswept. he had parked his car, licence plates scratched out and obscured, in the closed-off lot, showing his credentials and gaining access to the safe house for a moment of peace. there was a blot of blood on his right cheek; caston had never killed, he was just the driver—but how far could he go by just shrugging off the blame and claiming he was simply just doing his job? a knife, a bullet, a poison dart—what did it matter, when the threat of death was around every corner? there wasn’t even a flinch. instead, caston cocked a brow and ran his hand against his bicep to check that the cotton of his shirt hadn’t snagged. “i wasn’t coming to ask you to bail me out, amorello. i just wanted some peace and fucking quiet. you’re already threatening that.” his words came steady, as though they had been slowed down, wading through thick mud. it felt less of a scold and more of a sedated disappointment. “but you know we can’t just go for a starbucks or some shit. not that i would. murderous scumbags. as bad as disney.” he was one to talk, reviewing those he ran with on a nightly basis. spider, who crawled across rooftops on her hands and knees. gears, who could change a tyre in eight seconds. he had never been sure what peanuts did, or how she even evolved into such a nickname in the first place, but she existed as a spare part, a meatshield. "it's hardly a 'honey, i'm home', but i'll take it. i'll just pretend you're wildly in love with me and blinded by lust."

[barkskins]

caston’s palms were still sore against the callouses from clutching the steering wheel so damn tight. his straw-like blonde hair was thrust backwards, windswept. he had parked his car, licence plates scratched out and obscured, in the closed-off lot, showing his credentials and gaining access to the safe house for a moment of peace. there was a blot of blood on his right cheek; caston had never killed, he was just the driver—but how far could he go by just shrugging off the blame and claiming he was simply just doing his job? a knife, a bullet, a poison dart—what did it matter, when the threat of death was around every corner? there wasn’t even a flinch. instead, caston cocked a brow and ran his hand against his bicep to check that the cotton of his shirt hadn’t snagged. “i wasn’t coming to ask you to bail me out, amorello. i just wanted some peace and fucking quiet. you’re already threatening that.” his words came steady, as though they had been slowed down, wading through thick mud. it felt less of a scold and more of a sedated disappointment. “but you know we can’t just go for a starbucks or some shit. not that i would. murderous scumbags. as bad as disney.” he was one to talk, reviewing those he ran with on a nightly basis. spider, who crawled across rooftops on her hands and knees. gears, who could change a tyre in eight seconds. he had never been sure what peanuts did, or how she even evolved into such a nickname in the first place, but she existed as a spare part, a meatshield. "it's hardly a 'honey, i'm home', but i'll take it. i'll just pretend you're wildly in love with me and blinded by lust."

@barkskins !

this was by far her favourite safe den, or house.. but then it wasn't really a house more than a place to recoup and recover. it was her favourite because of the huge window panes. on stormy nights when the rain pelted against them like tonight, she found the sound soothing. she'd never admit anything like that, enjoying the sound of rain, that was something far too soft for the most stubborn woman to walk the earth. she liked to act like she hated everything, almost everything.. she didn't exactly hate caston but that was another secret she'd keep.

she was practicing her aim, a pinned up and rather haphazard target the other end of the room but in one swift movement she threw a knife that whistled in the air and buried into that sign with precision and speed. then again, the same ferocious attack but slightly to the left of the first. the next whistled right by caston and into the door frame beside his arm. that's when she turned with her devilish grin. "oops, i slipped." she didn't slip. eris never missed. "don't tell me you've got yourself in some form of shit show and need my help getting out of it? i can wait, you know, for the grovelling." she twirled, hands clutching her chest in a pleading motion. "oh please eris, light of my life, lend me your aid i've been an idiot." she mocked in a deep tone that didn't suit her, but the quiet giggle did. "...you're not sulking with me over the knife are you? or was it the impression? i thought it was a quite a good impression." she didn't find him unbearable like most so, she didn't really mind him being around... and this teasing mockery was her idea of trying to get along with someone.