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Post by IRINA ♥ MAYAKOVA on Mar 12, 2013 19:26:02 GMT -6
Silence was everywhere, devouring the room with its cold embrace. The only sound that fought against the raging silence was the quiet pulse of her beating heart. Wide-eyed and awake she stared at the dark ceiling waiting for sleep to wash over her, but the lids of her eyes experienced no heaviness. Sleepless nights were a staple of Irina’s identity. Why this was so, was unexplainable. Irina wasn’t a troubled woman with a checkered past or ghosts to haunt her. If that had been the case, she would have welcomed with nightmares with open arms rather than the silence and the blackness that plagued her every night. She was devoid of dreams, hopes, nightmares or bad memories. The strange phenomenon set her apart from the rest of the population. Not her wings or her powers made her different, but she was unlike any of the mortals or immortals on Earth as if she were made for a different type of life.
Sleep. Tonight she would sleep and dream and upon closing her eyes Irina summoned all her will to try and rest. Moments passed and turned to minutes which tread drearily upon the late night until they became an hour. When no sleep came and the beating of her heart became deafening Irina opened her eyes. Staring at the ceiling she watched and watched, curling her arms about her in a quiet, sad frustration. She envisioned figures and images dancing across the ceiling, but as she wrote the silent tale no sign of tiredness crept into her body. No amount of staring and no amount of counting sheep was going to put her to rest. She remained wholly unable to change her wakened state. Slowly rising, she sat listlessly in her bed feeling the smooth silk of her nightgown slink about her. One by one, with a motion mimicking that of a marionette doll Irina slid her legs off the bed and dropped her arms to her sides.
Jonathan had been kind enough to let her stay in his guest room until her house was ready. Her parents had jumped at the opportunity and idea of her settling down in a nice place that didn’t require her to roam like nomad troubled with the toils of war. To them it was a harsh existence, much too hard for their soft daughter. To Irina the experience was much different and it weighed on her no more than child’s play had on a child. For the blonde pale Angel, this was what she was born to do. Rolling her head from side to side she mused on the many things she could do to occupy the time lost to a sleepless night. Her feet dangled below her, naked toes barely kissing the cold wooden floor as the moonlight cast her shadow against the wall. Boredom was her greatest enemy and in that moment there was no sleep to fill the time.
Pushing with her hands, she slipped out of bed making no sound as her feet pressed lightly against the ground. Knowing John, he wasn’t home. The man had a taste for night patrols and running around in the shadows, scaring the shit out of casual night walkers and students who snuck out in the forest to make out. Irina laughed a scoff of a laugh as she thought of him. John was interesting and possibly the only other friend she had beside her family. He was the only bearable one, at least in her mind. Her fingers grazed the tip of the light switch before flicking it on, illuminating the room with the bright fluorescent daylight lighting. If she couldn’t sleep, she was going to take the opportunity to drag someone else down with her. “Text Henry Taylor.” The smartphone lit up in response and opened a blank text message. “Are you busy? Send.” After the message sent she went about the room looking for her boots. A few moments passed and she still hadn’t found the damned things, but once her eyes settled on them a ping went off signifying both the find and a new text. Her eyes passed over the text with a grin before she replied. “No reason, just stay awake. Send.”
It only took her a moment to assess her appearance in the mirror. She was still pleasant even after trying to fall asleep and the nightgown could have easily passed for casual daytime wear. There was no use in changing and she would rather primp and fix to ensure she still looked halfway decent for such a late night visit. Footie socks, then boots were her priority before she sat down in front of the full length mirror cross-legged. She dug around a metallic make up bag before finding the speckled illumination-foundation powder combo. Dusting it around her face she received another text which she read and replied quickly. “Because I said so. Send.” She added the finishing touches after she went through the routine, blackening her lashes with a soft mascara. As the last text message came in, she let it linger while she pulled on a jacket. One last look in the full mirror Irina dragged a few fingers through her tousled hair enjoying the soft strands before approving her look.
“Text Reinhardt… Going out, be back later. Send.” With a few clicks signifying the lock of John’s door, Irina was on her way. The dormitories weren’t too far from Sceptre City and the cool fall air was a nice welcome after a restless night. The lamps lit her way, illuminating the fiery tones of autumn. Even in the night everything glowed with an intense golden burn. Silence covered the campus and like moments ago the only sound pervading the air was the soft scuff of her boots and the beating of her heart. It was steady and didn’t quicken at the thought of visiting one of the more attractive men on campus. The gossip made it no secret that Henry was one of the coveted men, but Irina had never found herself attracted to anyone, not even her attractive partner in crime Reinhardt. Maybe it wasn’t in her repertoire of emotions to love, but Irina never found it hindering. With a blink she found herself in the dormitories staring at the door marked with silver numbers awakened from the daze of her knock. Softly she knocked, a quick tap, tap of her knuckles before crossing her arms and waiting. Why she was visiting him wasn’t a mystery. There was something hidden in her mind and he offered to help, what they would find she wasn’t sure, but she coveted the idea of knowing.
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Post by HENRY ♥ TAYLOR on Mar 13, 2013 4:49:35 GMT -6
  Sleep was a virtue at St. Gabriel. Haunted past, immense guilt and all of the above ran rampant through the air infecting everyone’s sleeping habits. From the outside the campus was already lit by the uniform lamplights, but looking past them St. Gabriel was a checkerboard of room lights which never seemed to turn fully off. Each light had a different story. The sickly pink light was some girl with a penchant for decoration, but the ghosts of her murdered family kept her wide awake swaddled, teary-eyed in her blankets. The dim orange glow next door was another girl who loved photography and found it as an escape from her abusive boyfriend, but only kept the light of her desk on so that she wouldn’t disturb her roommate. Several windows away was a brightly lit, blue tinged room that housed two boys who stayed up playing video games all night because neither wanted to think about their murdered mother or dead sister. Everyone had a different story.
Strangely enough, the one man who had heard nearly every one of those stories was sound asleep in his bed. Eyes closed and no movement beneath his lids, Henry seemed at peace. Within his mind nothing was going on. Only the soft blackness of rest covered him. It was an early night for Henry. Not too many students checked in on Fridays and he had no appointments scheduled. Rather than going out, he felt like a good night’s rest was well deserved. It was late, but he had already been in bed since eight that night. So, naturally, when the knock on the door came he wasn’t too frazzled or frustrated that someone had come knocking so late. Groggily he rolled up, yawning as he stretched the stiffness out of his limbs. Sleepy eyes squinted at the bright blue lighting of clock. It was almost midnight and Henry wondered who could possibly be knocking at his door this hour.
Rising out of bed he straightened out the sheets behind him. “Give me a second, I’ll be right there.” Another yawn ended the sentence as he pulled a pair of jeans from the back of the door. With a quick jump into them, he flattened his hair and popped in a breath mint. Hopefully his bed breath wasn’t too bad, but the location of his dorm ruled out any chance that his visitor would be a girl. He lived in the male only dorms and most girls were too scared to be caught down there that they avoided it like the plague and scheduled early morning appointments instead. He assumed that once he turned the lever arm of the doorknob he’d see some nightmare riddled boy, coming from whatever male dorm to have a late night comfort chat. It didn’t happen a lot, but Henry never minded it. His door was marked with a big white board in case he missed anybody. Without much more delay he opened the door, voice stopping in his throat in confusion at the sight.
“Irina? What are you… Is this is what you texted me for?” Henry eyed her curiously, eyebrows up in complete surprise. The blonde woman standing before him was a fellow staff member, but someone he had only recently acquainted himself with. Irina was a newbie at St. Gabriel, she had arrived shortly after the hard ass new head of security had shown up. From what he knew, she kept to herself and after a chance encounter and a brief scene of her in the church, Henry offered his helping hand. Something was off about her and Henry wanted to dissect, he never thought she’d talk let alone show up at his dorm in the middle of the night. Suddenly, he was vaguely aware of his indecency. It was a small one, but he was slightly embarrassed that she caught him shirtless and slightly disheveled. With a quick apologetic smile he gestured her in, shutting the door behind him. “Just make yourself comfortable, sorry for any of the mess and… you caught me off guard.”
Henry shuffled over to his closet digging around for a comfortable and plain black shirt. He slipped it over before directing his attention back to Irina. “So uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?” He shut the closet door and wondered how Luna would respond if she knew he was alone with another girl in his room. Not that it mattered really, because the two of them weren’t exclusive or anything… He shoved the thought aside. It wouldn’t matter because this was most likely business and even if she had come for other reasons he had imprinted. Although there was a part of Henry that couldn’t deny that Irina carried a beautiful glow around her. She had a great smile and a killer figure and even this late at night she still look dazzling. It was not a good combination for either of them, especially since they were behind closed doors.
 [/color] APRIL made this! » CREDIT[/right][/size][/font] |
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Post by IRINA ♥ MAYAKOVA on Mar 16, 2013 14:22:09 GMT -6
Decency wasn’t in the repertoire of skills that Irina carried. The girl was marked with grace, elegance and all the finer details that much of the new generation lacked, but she failed to see how some things weren’t socially acceptable. Her presence in the hallway, for instance, hadn’t registered to her as odd. Individual history of students present and students gone would tell a tale of the single sex dorms that was scandalous. Her little blip of an appearance was nothing compared to the girls that snuck around waiting for their boyfriends and sometimes their professors. All she wanted was advice and if others didn’t see it that way, Irina couldn’t care less. She was not a force to be reckoned with. Playing dirty and pushing others who came to shove were fair play to her. Defensive by nature and offensive by heart, she was always doing as she pleased. Why she was combative, instigative and void of any compassion was why she had chosen to knock on the door in the first place. She wanted to know why she was, who she was.
As quickly as she had knocked, she was ushered in the door. Rules and rumors seemed to sit deep with the counselor. Irina wasn’t surprised. Men like Henry had reputations to uphold and a pretty blonde sneaking around after dark at his door was definitely an avoidable splinter in that reputation. “Yes. You wanted to help, I’m here to talk.” A casual shrug lifted her small shoulders and landed them down as she took her seat on the bed. The soft comforter beneath the sheets and the foam mattress pad were delightfully comfortable and still warm from the heat of his body. Irina looked over him quietly as he put on a shirt. Her eyes traced over the smooth contours of his muscles and the fluid motions they produced. He was different from a lot of the cut and defined military men she had run into over the years. Henry had a softness that was appealing and a mercy that reminded her of someone she couldn’t put a finger on. “Sorry, I’ll come earlier next time.” She offered him a smile before leaning back on her hands.
“So tell me Dr. Taylor, how exactly do your shrink sessions work?” That was the sole reason she was here. The lack of memories dreams, aspirations and any other vital human signature seemed absent from Irina. John found her fascinating something he wished he could have been. The two despite their similarities had their opposites. Black versus White Winged; fair versus dark; lack of a past versus haunted past; lack of compassion versus hidden compassion; and lack of dreams versus riddled with nightmares, the comparison could have gone on and on. Irina didn’t know what she wanted. Even if Henry managed to find her past what would she do with it? The two of them tread on thin ice and in her mind she believed that there were questions you simply didn’t want to know the answer to and therefore asking was futile.
Ghosts in the closet, demons in the mind and angels to bring mercy when she needed them, those were the things that Irina wish were true. She lacked the capability to feel human fear and to feel the compassion that made them love and have mercy on others. For some people, like Reinhardt, her lack of those things was a gift. To Irina, it was a curse. She wanted more than this existence, but every time she achieved something significant it made her feel no greater nor closer to finding what she was meant for. “I want to remember my past, who I am.” Her voice was tense, filled with the distaste for sharing details of her life. “When I was a little girl a nun found me in the snow unconscious. My parents adopted me and raised me as their own. I was twelve and for those years as a child I remember nothing or from where I came from.” She looked up at him locking on to the soft pale of his eyes with the intensity of her gaze. This was a serious moment for her and if he took it lightly, her gaze warned him not to. Regardless of the fact that she had come here on her own, Irina was dangerous and she wouldn’t hesitate to numb him a bit if he messed with her.
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Post by HENRY ♥ TAYLOR on Mar 16, 2013 23:00:32 GMT -6
Henry wasn’t sure if it was the most appropriate thing to do, but in a situation where he was left alone with a coworker, a female coworker at that, there wasn’t much appropriateness left for him to grasp onto. So without much hesitation he stepped a bit from the closet over to his dresser. He needed a drink and he didn’t see what was wrong about two adults having a drink, if she wanted one. As he poured a bit of whiskey into a glass, he noticed the small quiver in his hand. Hopefully Irina didn’t notice, but if she did at least then she’d know this was a bit uncomfortable. With a gesture of his hand he offered it up to her. “I hope you don’t mind and you’re welcome to have a drink if you’d like. It might help loosen up too.” There was nothing wrong about a drink, right? It bothered him a bit, but Henry was never the type to drink to get drunk so it wasn’t a damper on his professional image if he had something to wake him up and relax him a bit.
It was in his experience that moments like these always turned out tense. Pasts, especially hidden ones, tended to turn up pretty nasty edges that cut deep and made counseling one of the hardest jobs a man didn’t want. For Henry hidden pasts were always one of the harder cases he had to work with. He never knew what was going to turn up and that’s what made it scary, because remembering sometimes hurt more than forgetting in the first place. However, Irina seemed insistent in finding out and that never made things easier. He listened quietly to her plea and what she could remember. With a grimace he suddenly realized the numerous possibilities of what could have happened. Girls, pretty as her with a childhood like that, if she hadn’t remembered it could have been anything from a murdered family to a rape unreported, who knew. Whatever it was, it was already causing his stomach to turn. With another swig he downed the rest of the whiskey knowing it might be a long night and filled his glass again.
“It’s okay, I just don’t expect a lot of visitors at this time and I’m not a shrink, I just like to help people.” A small, but genuine smile crossed his lips as he swished the drink around in his glass. Tired, but slightly waking up he walked over to take a seat next to Irina. “It all depends on how you want it to go. For the most part I listen, but in your case I just guide you to your memories and diagnose from there. Most importantly I’m just here to help you relax and keep you out of the darker places.” The way she looked at him was cold and unsettling. Her eyes almost didn’t seem human or filled with anything that resembled such. Henry took in her scent playing with the different pieces until he could place her species. It was hard not to focus on the sweeter scents and the alluring grasp of her perfume, but as he pulled those apart he found the source of her glow and the intensity of her gaze. She was an Angel, but unlike the one he had imprinted on there was something off about her scent, something he couldn’t understand or picture.
“I couldn’t help, but notice your accent. Are you from Russia?” She could have been from a number of places. Russia was just the big guess and hopefully the lucky one. With a name like Irina and an accent as fluid as hers she could have been from Ukraine, Latvia or Romania, but she could have easily been from anywhere else too. St. Gabriel’s was full of surprises and it always threw the counselor for a loop.
[/color] APRIL made this! » CREDIT[/right][/size][/font] |
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Post by IRINA ♥ MAYAKOVA on Mar 17, 2013 20:00:39 GMT -6
There were dreams that pierced the mind of the young Angel. These were dreams conjured up by the confines of her imagination rather than the ability to dream in itself. Imaginations of a life untold and memories past filled her mind with colors and caricatures of faces she had never seen, but felt familiar with. Irina was dreaming again. She was standing before herself, her blond tresses blowing in the ocean’s breeze which was trapped against the glass pane of the dorm window. Wings outspread and black with some darkness she didn’t understand, her hand was against the frosted glass. In her hand was a sword dripping with the blood of an oppose she had forgotten. Her mouth began to move, but no sound came from within her lips. Maybe a whisper, but Irina opened her ears and no sound resounded. She began to turn away pulling into the darkness and eyes cast up to God. Irina lusted for an answer and blinked at the sound of a voice that woke her from the haze, there past the pane was nothing, but a vapor of memory.
Woken with a start, but still calm and blank with confusion she drew her eyes back to man she had come to visit. It was the first moment she really took a moment to take him in. The sight of him was different from the daylight when he put on the façade of a put together counselor. His movements were groggy as he lifted his arms at the hinges to pour himself a drink. She nodded, standing quietly to pour herself a glass of the whiskey. Irina wasn’t much of a drinker, but she did enjoy a drink now and then. With a little sip she made her way back to the bed, placing her drink on the nightstand before scooting back to rest her back against the headboard. She felt taller than she was a year ago and subconsciously she bent her knees so that her legs wouldn’t slip over Henry’s lap. Instead the tips of her toes were mere centimeters away from him, dwelling in the heat that radiated from his skin. To Irina, Henry appeared to be comfortable in his own frame. Thick with muscle he filled in his height well without the awkward lankiness. He was a direct contrast from her war companion. While they were around the same height Henry bore a kind of deep ruggedness that Jonathan’s clean look lacked. Although the fierceness in John’s features were absent in Henry’s and a kind of softness seemed to flow from him. “Do you get all your patient’s drunk?” She laughed tossing her blonde locks over one shoulder to keep it out of her way. Irina loved her hair, but at times the mid-back cut seemed to feel suffocating and always in the way.
She lifted her glass in her fingers and took another sip before letting it rest in her hands. It would have been more relaxing if the glass of whiskey had been something radiating warmth like a cup of peppermint mocha chocolate. Luxuries like that weren’t always present on war trips and mercenary hunts. Now that St. Gabriel seemed to be their stop of interest, luxuries like that weren’t so far away. She could have had a warm hot chocolate, but to make that trek from here to wherever they would need to go to find it, probably wasn’t in Henry’s best interest. Therefore imagining its warmth and playing with the glass was the best that she could conjure up. She wasn’t complaining, whining about anything wasn’t a characteristic that defined Irina. She followed orders and did what she was commanded without complaint and therefore luxuries and the finer things were nice when available, but secondary to her need to complete her missions. What fascinated her so, about the whiskey glass, was that it was so definite. One could look at the glass and say it was glass and that it contained liquid that was alcohol. Everyone could tell the origins from the outside and could say what it was after a moment of contemplating. Irina didn’t have definition. Looking in the mirror, she saw a woman who was blonde, blue eyed, fair and with wings that softened the sharpness of her gaze. What she didn’t see were the things she wanted to know, who she was, where she was really from and what her purpose was.
“I assume so, but yes I lived in St. Petersburg and grew up there until I traveled the world with the military forces.” St. Petersburg was a large city which held a number of people who could have been her kin. “My Papa, the man who adopted me, was also a military man. He became a politician after his retirement and when they found me they searched missing person’s database for anyone that might be me and they submitted my DNA to another database to search for my family. To this day, no one has been found.” It caused the Mayakovs no grief to know that their adoptive daughter belonged to no one. For them it only meant that they wouldn’t have to return the beautiful girl they had raised as their own. Years of searching brought anxiety to them that maybe a name or a lead would turn up, but after years of finding nothing they had long given up the fear that she’d leave them. Instead they were only anxious that she’d abandon them and that her life with the military or as a mercenary would end with her dead or her cast on tides too far for them to follow, but as a daughter grateful for the things that her parents provided she wrote often and called when she could to ensure they knew she was okay.
Love was a far stretch for the girl. No matter how many years had been spent raising and rearing Irina, she felt no love towards the Mayakovs. She felt companionship and admiration for their ability to care for a child that didn’t belong to them, but only a mutual respect. Love was a feeling she did not know and doubted she’d ever experience. She only felt the rush of passion in the moment of execution or war. It was a rush incomparable to anything in the world. “I don’t know how you expect me to try and remember what I do not have.” Another sip from the glass and she placed it on the nightstand deciding again to change her position. She felt odd so far away from the person she was talking to. Whenever conversation had been a part of her life, she was closer in arms reach where they could hear one another even when speaking quietly. Personal space was never an issue for Irina. She liked to be close and to feel the vibrations of the voice when they spoke, to pick out there lies when they told them. She positioned herself next to him, leaving only a hand-sized width between them.
“Why do you do this job? When people suffer and they have nightmares which riddle their bones, doesn’t it bother you if you can’t help them?” Angling her body towards him, she lifted her hand gently brushing across a few tendrils of hair which tickled the top of his forehead. She was aware it was a very personal thing to do, but she had never been in the position where someone took her lack of respect for space to heart. With a gentle nudge of her fingers she turned his head, cupping the side of his cheek with her hand. Back and forth she brushed her thumb against the smooth of his cheek. Stress had worn in some tiny wrinkles and laughter and brought some creases to his eyes as well. She touched those and traced the line of his face, feeling the roughness of his growing beard. “You’re so young, doesn’t it damage you, your work. I can’t imagine someone like you carrying a weight like that on your shoulders. The pain and sadness must be so much.” Withdrawing her hand she sighed, resting her hands in her lap. “It’s none of my business, I’m sorry. You offered me help and now I say this to you, if this fails and we try our best to find out what my mind has locked away, I will still be grateful and if you find that you need help and that the weight has become too heavy to bear, I have the power to take away the pain and allow you to feel nothing at all for even just a moment.” The offer wasn’t one of compassion or kindness. It was simply a trade-off for the help he offered her. To others it would seem as though she was truly able to feel the sympathy and compassion coursing through a normal being’s veins, but to Irina it was another sign of gratitude in return for the gift he’d bestow on her.
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