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Post by Jacky on Jan 6, 2007 21:13:29 GMT
"Stop asking." I smirk and take the rumbottle back from her. Swigging.
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Post by Daz on Jan 6, 2007 23:29:55 GMT
I shrug "Fine. Ill just wait to find out myself."
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Post by Jacky on Jan 7, 2007 10:19:31 GMT
Sooner or later you will, I'm afraid. I glance at the rumbottle absent-mindedly. A frown on my features.
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Post by Daz on Jan 7, 2007 17:49:30 GMT
I watch him, with a smirk still upon my lips.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 7, 2007 17:52:07 GMT
"...Don't you dare be amused." I warn her, my eyes flashing aside to her.
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Post by Daz on Jan 7, 2007 17:55:47 GMT
"Why I am not allowed to laugh at your obvious display of emotion? You would at me.."
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Post by Nikki on Jan 7, 2007 22:20:01 GMT
Being able to suppress unpleasant thoughts has always been a rare talent of mine. . .but it only works for so long. Realizing that Jack has been away for awhile now, I still decide against finding him. But I ask Gibbs to take the helm, and he kindly does, even though I'm nowhere close to his captain. It's time for me to try my hand at doing some mysterious unknowns.
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Post by Daz on Jan 7, 2007 23:52:13 GMT
I know he probably wont answer. He's seriously fucked up right now.. which is weird.
Ive never really seen him so distant in a long.. long time..
I look down to his finger and notice.. it.
The ring. My ring.
The ring he once stole from me. As I had stolen one from him.
Its something weve always shared. Weve always had something between us. That silent connection.
So even in the bleakest and darkest of moment in our love/hate relationship.. theres always been that.
Bond.
My eyes peer down as I know that his ring is there. On my necklace. I can feel the cold metal pressing against my skin. And it reassures me. Whatever happens to me in this world. No matter what.. he'll always be there for me. No matter how much he resents me.
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Post by Nikki on Jan 8, 2007 1:43:11 GMT
Walking over to Jack's cabin, it's alright not to think, but once I'm inside and searching for an old, familiar book, it's hard for the thoughts not to kick back in gear.
Finding the nearly ancient copy of Shakespeare totally eats away at my barriers. Memories can be cruel things.
But I am suddenly too angry to cry anymore.
Of all the times I've asked why, sitting here on this dusty floor, forgotten and holding an equally misplaced book in my lap, this has to be the one time I have most needed to know the answer. And the worst of it is, all I hear in return is silence. There's really no one to talk to about anything here. For the most part, I'm surrounded by men and Cassandra.
And on the subject of her, I wouldn't so much mind getting to know her- if it didn't feel as though I had to hate her in return to survive.
But on the matter of the book, something points to one line of the play.
Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?
It leads me back to my thought earlier. Is this the end, or just a new beginning?
Dread is ever-present in the pit of my stomach. It feels horrible and clenching. .. it feels. . .like something I was used to a long time ago.
So anyone who says that you are never alone has obviously never been in this situation.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 8, 2007 8:03:10 GMT
I take the last swig of the bottle of rum, and whipe my lips with the back of my hand. I look at the wall ahead of me. My thoughts aren't numbed. My mind not in a state of drunken moroseness. A half bottle of rum is not enough to still my worries now.
I look aside to Cassandra.
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