Saltine Scene [Dorian]

[poss]

There were white beads, two on the end of each string that tied the suit together, on both the top and the bottoms. The only added touch, the only step aside from the pure simplicity of the black material. She liked to keep it simple, from her outfit to her daily living. A routine, you could say- even that she knew that keeping such a thing was dangerous. No, not dangerous because it became repetitive and boring, but because if you were to be pursued, they would know when, and where to get you. Perhaps that was why she found herself skipping streets and taking on new ones- reversing her run every morning and evening, and ensuring she never took the exact same route through the city whether on foot or while burning rubber. And now, the most out of the ordinary thing she had done: She was on a date. if that wasn't mixing things up- what was?

She never noticed that the towel dropped, her back to him, as that was her intention when she had turned away from him. If he peeked whether intentional or not, she didn't want to know. best leave it to mystery. When he agreed to help her tie up the top, she sighed silently, relaxing the tension in her shoulders. To admit that she feared he would be too uncomfortable.. would have only ruined the relaxed state they were moving in to. The tension was easing, both in the air around them, and throughout her body. No longer did she worry so much about the negative effects of the day. No, not on dating, but on having to leave her weapon in the car. But... Anastasia looked down as Dorian tied the strings, feeling the brush of his fingertips across her back and causing a wave of goosebumps to rise on her skin. She tried not to gasp- being touched was like an electric shock to her. Enjoyable, to be honest, but embarassing for the fact that she could not help it. Luckily, she did not blush, and managed to change the subject as quickly as possible.

She had already tossed the firearm in to the floorboards of the backseat- wrapped up in her clothing, but she had yet to remove the two ankle sheaths she wore. Leaning forward once Ian tugged the finishing double knot, she looked down at her bare legs- paler than she had hoped they would be- not that she sought after a tan. Skin cancer at a young age was never a good thing. She bent at the hip, followed by the knee and crouched to remove the weapons, the velcro straps, and two buckles. Very secure black pouches holding the serrated 6" blades on each ankle. Usually she wore one on either wrist, as well as a large blade in a sheath down her spine, but it only ever chaffed when jogging, and she didnt have enough practice with it to make herself comfortable totting it around in daylight.

Hesitation. She only removed on, leaning in to the backseat once she stood back up and set it on her clothing. The other one stood out, a heavy contrast on her ankle, and she turned to face Dorian, head tilted to the side and a look of being completely unsure across her face. "You wouldn't mind if.. I mean, it wouldn't bother you if I had a weapon, would it?" She was on a human being. Blood and bones held her together, no immortality or power beyond that of a mortal. Weapons were her chance at survival, and without them, she would have been long dead. "I can leave it if it bothers you, I just have to be honest. I sleep with my gun, so leaving it behind will be hard enough. Its not for you, it is simple a feeling of security. I am .. rather paranoid." She laughed, and it was obviously a laugh of nerves. She felt absolutly stupid when she explained that to him. What would he make her out to be? Some looney who belongs in a padded cell for fear of death itself? She knew she would one day die, and she did fear the thought of non existence, but survival of attack was different. ...Right? Keep telling yourself that, Ana.

Her grin widened, trying to lighten the mood yet again and move the subject on as she smoothed her palms down her bare sides, like ridding of sweat for a person who did so when nervous. She didn't, but the action alone made her feel a bit more at ease. And then her gaze caught sight of the beach. The lapping saltwater, the gentle spray as it crashed against rocks, and the slow, intermittent crawl of waves over the sandy escape. It was breathtaking, and it did exactly that. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. It was a brilliant sight to behold. She couldn't wait any longer. Without looking, she took the towel from the hood of the car that he had been holding up for her, pressed her hip against the car door to close it, and started in the direction of the water. "It is beautiful, lets go!" She said with a grin, excitement obvious in the very gleam of her eye.

[dorian]

The day could be likened, somewhat easily, to a first swim.

One approaches the water’s edge tentatively, at first. Tests the temperature with his toes. The swimmer gets an idea of how hot or cold the water is before shuffling their feet forward ever-so-slowly, so as not to shock the body too badly in one way or another. The feet become submerged. Then go the legs, the hips, the chest, arms, and shoulders, one by one, each slipping more easily than the last into the clear blue. Finally, when one stands up to the neck in water, comes the piece-de-resistance – complete submersion. A quick breath and down goes the head, eyes squeezed tight for a few frightening, yet blissfully exhilarating seconds – and then the swimmer reappears on the surface once more, now soaked to the core, but hopefully otherwise unharmed, by a new experience. It is at this point that many begin to move their arms or kick their legs in jerky, unpracticed motions, trying to reach a deeper understanding of the water around them. There are some, however – some fools – who jump in at the very beginning, often to find that they have jumped in too deep, and begin thrashing, choking, from their own hastiness. When exploring ‘the swimming pool of life’, Ian preferred a pleasant mixture of the two. He would test the waters, first, get in about waist-deep, before he clambered out of the pool to do a running jump back in.

Thus far, both Ian and Ana had done little more than test the waters in their own ways. That was changing quickly, however. They were taking baby steps through the shallow end, inching forward with not so much caution as it was a consistent pace. It was then, however, that Ian watched as Anastasia swam a little deeper. She openly revealed a hesitancy, verbally as well as in her face and manner, at the prospect of separating from a weapon. It was not on account of doubt of Ian’s character in particular, she claimed, but a general distrust in the ways of mankind as a whole. She seemed somewhat anxious of Ian’s reaction, and for as clever a man as Ian undoubtedly was, he wasn’t quite sure why until he heard her use a word he rather disliked: ‘paranoid’. With the sounding of Ana’s nervous laughter – before that, even – Dorian shook his head.

“Trust me – I’ve been around enough officers of the law, soldiers, and warriors to know that it’s never a bad thing to have a weapon nearby.” There was a sudden seriousness, as polite and honest as it was, to Ian’s expression, and a certain somber quality to his tone. “Crime doesn’t have office hours - that’s especially important for someone who does their job as well as you do. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be untrue to yourself on my account. I wouldn’t call you ‘paranoid’ – if you carried a weapon without significant reason, then, yes, that would be paranoid. But, from what I saw last night, you have a pretty dangerous job. It’s better that you’re prepared. I wouldn’t call it paranoid – I would call it an unhealthy lifestyle, however. But that’s in the fine print of what you do.” Ian didn’t realize how wordy he’d made his simple ‘no, I don’t mind’ until after the fact. It was his turn to laugh nervously. “Well, I’ll say this - even if you didn’t bring that blade…you still wouldn’t be entirely without a weapon.” He grinned insinuatingly, mock-flexing his arms as a show of the meaning behind his statement – of course, she didn’t know that he was invincible, just yet. The statement was a little cocky, but the playful way Ian said it made it almost more humble than proud.

This was, truly, a monumental day in the life of Dorian Knight. Even with his long, long, long, long history, moments exactly like this one were sparse, to say the least. There was a certain innocence in the meeting of two people like Ian and Ana, both admittedly alone and focused, really, on anything but love, or relationships. Whether their isolation from the rest of the world was intentional or not wasn’t really of any concern; the true innocence, the purity of it was in watching each one slowly climb out of their respective shells. Ian watched Anastasia’s eyes light up with a certain interest, before his eyes, too, turned to the beach. Another smile spread wide across his face, before he glanced over to Ana with, was it, a mischievous air to his expression? It must have been, because without another word –

He broke off in a run.

A light laugh escaped Ian as he reached the sand, turning to glance back to see how close or far behind Anastasia was. She was amazingly fit – he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d passed him on the way. He slowed down once they were decently near the water, dropping the towel in a half-spread mess, kicking off his shoes and leaving the sunglasses and the rest of his belongings wrapped in the crumpled half of the towel. Ian filled his lungs with a deep breath as the wind whipped in off the waves; the sand felt incredible beneath his feet, the glistening reflections of the sun and the sky on the water were more than a sight to behold. How long had it been since he’d stepped foot near a beach, let alone, on one? It had been decades, if not centuries. The reunion was glorious.

Squinting slightly against the sun, Ian extended a hand to Ana.

“Care to test the water?”
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[poss]

Ana nodded, with a genuine smile that reached her eyes when he explained that it wouldn't bother him. Ease washed over her, tension extinguished. At least he understood- she knew that the fallen could not be nearly as threatened by the injuries that would otherwise mean life or death for a mortal. Her past acquaintance, Alex, had been a black angel. Unfortunately, she had to squeeze off a few shots, wounding him on several occasions, and never did he even fall to his knees. She had only ever taken two shots at once before, and that was quite a while ago- and it had left her in the hospital for weeks.

For those that have never spent a few nights in a hospital- it isn't as relaxing as it sounds. For one- they take your clothes. And most importantly: they take your weapons. You are practically nude, with a sheet tied around your body, and placed in a random room in which nearly anyone off the street has access too. Luckily, she had not met her demise those days. It was early on in her life as a hunter, and the number of creatures that were out to see her life put to an end was minimal to none. That never lasted long.

Dorian flexed just then, snapping her back to reality as he described himself as a worthy weapon. Cocking a brow, a smirk twisting her lip line, she gave him a look that was of numerous judgment, as if to say "Yeah right, prove it" all the while with enough of a laugh to be known as a joke. She didn't enjoy emasculating men, so why not give them a chance to prove that muscles were a good thing to have. And Dorian did have nice muscles. Anastasia's smirk twisted in to a grin. The sociopath within fought to show its nasty face- telling her to reach for the blade, withdraw it from its sheath, and put it to his neck. Ask him then if he thought he was much of a weapon. But she didn't. She fought it. More difficult than it may sound, every muscle in her body reacted for a millisecond, a twitch of a tense that washed over her, yet her facial expression remained friendly. Her eyes remained deep, and warm.

When Ana moved in to a state of mind for killing.. she went rather empty. Emotionless. Even told that she was cold to the touch. But right now- right here, she had no desire to kill. Just the tiniest of desire to show him that she didn't need muscle around to protect herself. But it wasn't her that wanted to do this. It was the demon within. Ana enjoyed his good humor, while the bloody sociopath within fought to put him in his place. She wouldn't let it happen- not today. And hopefuly, not ever.

Her gaze had fallen to the beach, having picked up the towel and gently hip checked the drivers door to close. She saw from the corner of her eye as Dorian looked in the same direction- taking in the saltine scene before them as well. It was beautiful. And then, the tensing of his muscles, the slightest of movement to prove he was about to make a break for it, had her ready. Call it a hunch, or simply her paranoid mind that paid attention to everything in her surroundings, but she broke in to a run the instant he did. The towel flapped as she held it close to her body, bare feet on the hot sand propelling her short figure forth at an almost exact speed as he did. It wasn't a race, and thus she stayed beside him- he was fast even if he had not been trying his hardest, but she managed to keep a steady pace beside him. She perhaps took two steps for his every one, the difference in leg length being quite large, but she managed.

As he set down his towel and other belongings, she laid her towel out nicely beside it across the rippled sand, wiggling her toes in the warmth of it as her eyes never left the waves. It was not very busy today- the beach being so large surely there were more people than it seemed, but you still had enough privacy that you were not walking around and stepping over people. The sea breeze licked at her, catching at her long platinum blonde hair as her hands reached back to take it out of the hgh pony tail that she had tied it in to while she had put on her bikini. It spilled loosely in a board-straight wave across her shoulders, caught in a fury in resistance to the wind. Dorian's question brought her attention back to him, her hair tye now on her wrist and she nodded without hesitation, taking his offered hand and walking toward the water. It never took long, however, for her pace to quicken, and she tugged lightly for him to hurry. She knew it would be cold, so why not hurry in and get used to it rather than wade through it slowly, taking every inch like a mile.

[dorian]

Ian’s hand had gone out to take Ana’s before he even had time to think – talk about a surprising sub-conscious move. He didn’t regret it, mind you, but it must have been brought on by something in the air; salty and cool and caught in a constant breeze, it was the source of an almost constant high. The beach was open and mesmerizingly bright, rivaled in its beauty only by the woman whose hand happened to be laying in Dorian’s own as she tugged at him playfully to hurry their charge at full-speed towards the crashing, rippling waves coming to meet them against the sand. Ian couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so good – and the fun, he hoped, was only just beginning.

Unfortunately, Ana wasn’t the only one with a dark, even cruel side; as was well-known by now, Ian had an alter-ego of his own. His was, perhaps, a bit more prevalent in his open social life than Ana’s ‘sociopathic’ side – but who knew? Though Ian was completely oblivious to the other, more twisted side to Anastasia, one had to wonder what would happen if the two ‘alter-egos’, so to speak, were to meet head-on. Ian’s delusive, misanthropic, wrathful side, against Ana’s sociopathic one…Ian had more control over his anger, these days, but with as headstrong as Ana seemed capable of being, it was a toss-up as to whether danger lay in their path ahead.

…if they even had a path, of course. This was the first date. Only time would tell what – if anything – was in the future.

Ian couldn’t help but liken Ana to some sort of goddess as he watched her run before him, doing his best to catch up despite the blatant distraction she caused for likely any man – though particularly Ian, at that moment. She had a desirable figure and skin like porcelain, her hair a perfect, radiant gold in the sun, tossed by the wind around a pretty face that Dorian was relieved to find lit up with what he hoped was joy. He picked up the pace to run alongside Anastasia the remainder of the way, not realizing until a few feet too late that they had reached considerably wet sand. A wave came barreling towards them at a startling speed, and, laughing, Ian pulled Anastasia back to the edge of the damn sand with him, running backwards with her smaller hand tight within his. His feet sank a few inches into the sand with the gentle lapping of the remnants of the wave. Then, without any more warning than a sudden bold look Ana’s way, he took off towards a slowly forming, enormous wave at a speed about five times faster than what he’d made running to the sand, cutting through the water like a knife. Just as the giant wave had begun to crest, Ian put his hands forward and made a dive into it, disappearing in the murky depths as the wave broke and turned to white. For what seemed like an entire minute, he let the swirling sounds of the rigorous waters around him fill his ears, embracing the brisk temperature as the water soaked his hair – and everything else. He focused on the sensation of sand and salt and broken shells running across his face and chest, until feeling an all-too-human need for oxygen, he resurfaced to take a deep breath in.

He leaped up and stood in the ocean feeling like Poseidon himself, waves crashing across his back. He lifted his hands to wipe the water from his eyes, skin glistening as he was quickly and flippantly warmed and cooled by the sun and the wind, respectively. He flashed a quick grin at Ana, beckoning her to come and join him with a motion of his hand.
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[poss]

The day was looking up. From being just another day- taking her early afternoon jog through the streets with no plans other than to continue to explore her new home town- this was quite the change in pace. Edna better not be planning anything else, not that Ana was not pleased with what had happened so far, but that woman was starting to prove to be quite sneaky and Anastasia never was fond of surprises. Dorian seemed to be having a good time so far as well. Sure, he seemed a tad bit uncomfortable in her car on the way here, but he seemed to have loosened up rather quickly. From their last meeting, things sure had changed for the better. She had left his apartment after obviously asking the wrong question. Dorian didn't like to talk about himself much, and thus, Ana would remember not to ask many questions so as to not stir any arguements. She understood though- Ana had a past and a present that was far from ordinary, and it was hard to give out personal information to someone you had just met. Perhaps she was not the only one who was paranoid.

Anastasias other side was not so much twisted as it was.. emotionless. A piece of her that hid when the danger appeared to let the survival skills of a trained killer to do what it did best. Kill. Over the past four or so years she had brought death to the doorstep of more people than she could count. Most were vampires even some elders, however she did occasionally get a call on other supernatural beings, but the vampires were more her flavor. They had been the root cause of her parents death, and thus her hatred for their kind was one that would surely never die. Slowly she was beginning to realize that these thoughts.. followed by her own actions, were making her more of a monster than the vampires ever were. They were more human. The usual warmth to her eyes would vanish in a heartbeat, and everything around her would still when the moment came that she could deliver death to an opponent. It was a period of time that seemed to still, slow down, and everything around her moved in slow motion. A decision had to be made, and thus her body focused on the situation at hand, her senses heightened. Yes, lets hope that Dorian and Ana never had to experience such a situation, because once that decision was made.. she never went back on it.

Here, now, the two of them raced toward the crashing waves of the ocean, their feet imprinting the sand. No such thoughts of killing or blood spilling, it was all just enjoyment and excitement. Happiness. Something it would seem neither of the two had experienced in quite a while. Ana, for one, had been alone for so long now that she couldn't remember the last time she had had this much fun with another person. Glancing back over her shoulder, twisting her body with her line of sight, back to Dorian, she grinned as he tried to catch up to her. Then his eyes reflected something, and the next thing she knew she was being pulled in reverse. Her gaze fell to the water that came crashing toward them and she laughed, back pedaling quickly to try to escape it. Coming to a stop, another look crossed his face. A devious grin twisted her lip line as she watched him run toward the water, only to dive beneath the surface. The sound of the water enveloping him, then colliding with the beach was bliss. It was peaceful, no matter how loud it became. And then, silence. Dorian remained under the surface for a period of time and Ana began to wade out in to the water to dive in. She expected him to have swam out deeper- then he broke the surface.

His body glistened under the midday sun, the water streaming down. He raised a hand to wipe his face and Anastasia started moving further, deeper in to the water. She was just past knee height when he motioned for her to join him, and with that, she dove forward, slipping under the surface without so much as a splash. It was almost silent in comparison to above the waves as she moved fluidly deeper with a sway and curl of her body, and slight kick of her feet. Her hands were outstretched infront of her, fingers combing through the sand on the bottom. She reach Dorian and moved around beside him without touching or giving any hint that she was there, only to continue moving deeper. It wasn't long afterward that she surfaced, treading water for she could not touch, about 15 feet directly behind Dorian. She splashed the water with a wave of her hand across it, towards him, taking another breath and slipping beneath the surface.