onewhoisall | (no subject)

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Her fingertips press against her face, sliding and scraping over tired skin as she stares at too bright sun through the gap in her curtain. Rolling over her legs twist and tangle within the blankets, burrowing briefly for a moment before she shifts, irritated and hot and, onto her back. Her body was still sore, still aching, she should rest... staring at the ceiling, Cassandra remained still for another moment before moving suddenly.

She would rest later. Train now. Do... something.

Padding quietly across the floor, Cass grabbed the hem of an overly large shirt as she padded into the hall. Stretching up onto her toes as she shifted her bare arms over her head, Cass walked through the living area nose twitching slightly at the familiar sight. Dropping the shirt onto the counter, she bent down for a carton of juice before reaching up for a glass. Eyes glancing to the edge of her vision, she grabbed another glass before placing it on the counter.

"How love have you been here?" Cass murmured quietly, fingertips reaching behind her for his t-shirt before dragging it over her naked body. Raising an eyebrow, she pushed the glass across the counter. "Hn, what are you watching?"

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It took me way too long to find her. I was only searching for a few days before I figured out where she lived, but I should have found it in just a few hours. I finally remembered that I can communicate with spiders, and all I needed to do was concentrate on that like I did with the atomic bomb and I could find her easily.

I didn't even know why I wanted to find her, other than I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was intriguing, like a puzzle I couldn't solve. At least, I tell myself that's the only reason I want to find her.

Of course, after she wakes up and comes into the room, it's hard to deny the other reason since she's FUCKING NAKED. I'd complain, but I am the one that snuck into her place, it's not like she knew she had company.

I catch sight of her for just a moment before I avert my eyes. Smooth, rippled muscles and limbs that move with incredible grace. I notice the scars too, but I don't mind those. Hell, I still have a problem not seeing them when I look into the mirror.

I think about just leaving, but then she talks to me and I'm busted. For a moment, I almost just go invisible and sneak out anyway but something catches my eye.

"That's my shirt!"

"Is it?" Cassandra murmured, a hint of mocl innocence lingering in her voice as she raised her eyebrow at his statement. Lips tugging at the corner in amusement, she lifted her shoulders up into a gentle and casual shrug. "Not anymore. Did you want it back?"

Her fingertips went to the hem as if to pull it up before drifting away.

"Yes. I mean, yes it is! I don't want it back. Right now. Keep- keep it on."

As attractive as she is, I'm a little thrown by how casual she is with her own nudity. It just further confirms that this girl is not normal. Not that I'm judging, I doubt she can be as fucked up as me.

A chilling thought runs through my mind though. Just how old is this girl?

"Hn, okay." Cass murmured, tugging the shirt upwards as his mouth continued to speak. Her lips tugged, twitching in amusement as he babbled at her. She didn't need to follow the words to understand what his body was telling her. Dropping the hem, Cass reached for her glass before moving around the counter to press two fingers against his shoulder. Soft and gentle and teasing. "Have you finished? You talk too much, you know that?"

Cass lifted her hand, offering him the other glass before turning her head curiously to look at his uniform.

"Are you... staying in that?"

I'm having a hard time knowing exactly where to look. I can't tell if she's flirting with me or messing with my head or if she's just strange. The smart money is riding on the fact that she's just strange.

Also, I don't know what to think about her touching me. It's like she's trying to tell me something, but I don't speak the language. Feels nice though.

"Fine, I'll talk less," I growl. "And I didn't exactly bring anything else to wear."

I hadn't exactly planned this out very well, I didn't even know why I came over. Maybe I was lonely? Damn, I hope not.

Her lips tug even brighter at the growl, the familiar way his voice sounds beneath the mask. She understood that tone, she knew the way it shaped his mouth beneath the mask and the way it made her mouth light and softer. Her hands softened, placing the glass down on the counter before pressing her lips together in concentration.

"Hn, you could always just take the mask off." Cass suggested lightly lifting her shoulders into a light shrug. "I might have clothes I'll check."

Her footfall was light and careful as she padded across the room into the dark recesses of her room before returning with an armful of clothing that would fit. Cassandra had been careful to stockpile things that she or the others might need when or if they came here.

For some reason, despite how annoyed I am, she almost seems relaxed by that. At the very least, she's not put off by my gruffness. I should be thankful for that, right?

At the suggestion to take off the mask, I hesitate for a moment but then I figure since she knows where I live she knows what I look like, or could easily find out if she didn't already. Besides, I know what she looks like so it's only fair. Not that it has to be fair.

After pulling the mask off, I look over to see the armload of clothes she's bringing over. What the fuck? She has this huge pile of clothes and she goes to steal my shirt? What the fuck.

"You have all this, you don't need my shirt," I say. Even so, I'm picking through the clothes looking for something that would fit.

Her lips softened, gaze watching the reveal of bare flesh beneath the mask. She watched the way he held himself; the line of his jaw, the strength in his shoulders, the hidden warmth in his lips. Reaching her hand out to touch, she pulled her hand back a fraction looking at him curiously before holding a hand up in quiet new greeting.

"Hi," Cass murmured softly before raising an eyebrow at his statement. "You want me to take it off now? Hn, you should make up your mind."

I don't say anything about her almost touch because, well, if I was going to start commenting on every weird thing that she does I'm going to be talking nonstop and she already thinks I talk too much. Not that what she thinks matters.

"I didn't say I wanted you to take it off," I replied, keeping my eyes on the clothes I'm sorting through because if I look at her, well, the shirt covers a lot but not everything.

I finally find a pair of cargo shorts and a plain t-shirt that will fit. Just to prove a point, not that I'm sure what it is, I strip down out of the costume and pull the clothes on. She's not the only one that can be comfortable with nudity.

Her eyes move over his shoulders, down the line of muscle learning each breath of his body, each mark and imprint of who he is. His body was a book to read, a new song to learn and study even now as he simply removed his costume and exchanged them for clothes. Her breath sucked in, lips and eyes curious as she looked him over.

"Not with your lips," Cass replied simply, pressing her lips together as she finished looking him over as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. "You came to see me though... why?"

I can feel her looking at me and it's weird. There's nothing inherently sexual about it, but there is something intimate, like I'm suddenly telling her something ably myself that I hadn't intended. Almost reminds me of Aracely and how she cam read my mind.

"Bored," I tell her with a shrug, although what I meant was 'lonely.' No, not exactly lonely, just tired of being alone. I'm going to ignore her other comment though because I don't want to start thinking she can read minds AND there's the aforementioned age problem.

"Why'd you take my shirt?"

Her cheeks flushed a little, eyes dipping low before she turned her attention away from him. Her fingertips slid along her bare arms as she shrugged at the question. Stroking the faded and jagged edge of the old scar, Cass pressed her lips together before looking up at him.

"I don't know. I wanted... you?" Cass paused, brow furrowed before she corrected herself. "Hn, it. I wanted it. I liked it. I like... you."

Well, that was interesting. I would have thought that the flush to her cheeks would have seemed out of place, but it didn't. The thoughtful expression was just plain cute.

"You're not so bad yourself," I tell her, which I figure is essentially saying the same thing, right? "You're... different. In a good way."

Her fingertips pressed against his chest, nudging soft and light and teasing at his words. She parted her lips, allowing herself the gentle smile before she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Turning her back to him, she tossed him a look over her shoulder before smiling a little warmer.

"Hn, so they say." Cass murmured before pressing her hands against the sofa and leaping over the back of it. Folding her legs beneath her, she tapped the sofa beside her indicating he should sit with her. "But good is... a matter of opinion."

So apparently this girl was very tactile, which is going to be weird because I am not a touchy person. Weirdly enough, I don't mind her touches. Maybe because they're light and brief and don't feel all that intrusive. Sure, that's why. Also that smile didn't hurt.

I hopped over the couch and landed next to her, leaning back and just relaxing for a moment. It's a pretty comfy couch.

"Well, all I can speak for is my opinion," I say and since she hasn't annoyed me yet, I consider her different being good. "I'm Kaine, by the way."

She keeps her fingers light, swift and short. Movement, action, touch was how she spoke and how she learned from others but she knew that not everyone was like her. She knew some flinched away from her, she knew the lightest of touches could say as much as the tightest of embraces.

She watches him even now, relaxed and leaning back against the couch. She watches the muscles in his neck, his shoulder. Her hands wanting to touch and learn but she remains where she is, close but not touching.

"Cassandra. Cass... Cain." She replies at the name. Her head turning slightly as she watches him. She holds her hand out, spreading her fingertips upwards before motioning that he do the same. "Hands like this."

"You are so strange," I say, but there's no judgement in my voice as I hold my hand up next to hers. Her hand is small in comparison, the fingers strong but delicate, like they were equally suited to striking or playing the piano.

I wonder if the name means anything, but I doubt it. It's. Not like Kaine is a family name of anything like that for me.

She smiled, pressing the tips of her fingertips against his before sliding her hand against his. Palm to palm before she curls her fingers beneath, fingernails making crescent moons against her palms before she presses her hand against his. A gentle fist meeting an open palm. Her lips tugged into a warm smile at his words.

"I know," Cass murmured, leaning forward as her knees pressed against his thighs. "But then who is to say what is strange and what isn't?"

I keep feeling like there's more going on here than I realize. If this is some sort of bizarre courting ritual where she's from and I wake up tomorrow hungover and married there is going to be some explaining to do. I could think of worse people to wake up married to though.

"I climb on walls and talk to spiders, I think I'm fairly well qualified to decide," I say, curling my hand around hers. That's not to mention being grown in a lab.

Her lips softened at the way he curls his hand over hers, capturing hers. Her lips part, a soft breath in exhale as she leaned forward examining the way he closes his hands over hers. Learning the way his hand feels against her skin.

"Hn, no. I do not think that qualifies as strange," Cass murmured, looking up at him over his hand. "I speak in movement, I think that makes me more qualified than you."

I'm content to just sit there for a moment and keep her hand in mine if she's not going to take it away. When she talks about speaking in movement, more things start to make sense. It also makes me much, much more aware of all the places she's touching and what my body must be saying to her.

"My body makes and secretes its own webbing. I win."

He doesn't pull his hand away, his skin warm and rough still touching her own. Her lips part gently, looking at him with a curious expression as she turns his hand over before sliding free hand over his exposed wrist. Her fingertips slide down his wrist and arm as she learns his body. The pulse strong beneath her fingertips.

"I was created to become the greatest weapon in the world, I win." Cass replied softly.

Her touch feels good, surprisingly soft and gentle for someone that's supposed to be the world's greatest weapon. The thing is, I've seen her fight and that claim might not be too far off. I'd put odds on her against just about anyone but Wolverine.

"I was grown in a lab to be the clone of someone else, only I was a failure so I was thrown out with the trash and left for dead," I say. I'm sorry, but you can't get more screwed up than that. "Also, I died once and came back."

He doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch when she slides the pads of her fingers against his skin. Her hand brushing across and up to his elbow before curling around his arm. She slides her hand back down to his fingertips before tugging her hand gently out of her grasp. She holds his hand leaning forward and shifting so that his hand is closer to her chest before she tugs his hand to the t-shirt and the scar on her shoulder.

Ragged edges, circular, gunshot wound. For flinching, for reacting, she got the one in her thigh for reacting to the first one. She soon learned not to react to pain.

"My father gave me this to teach me when I was six... it wasn't the only one." Cass murmured softly. "Haven't we all died and been brought back?"

"And I'm sorry, but until you've been ritually tortured and sacrificed... no. We all haven't."

I run my finger along the scar, feeling the smoothness of it and it brings back so many memories of my own scars. You can't see them anymore, but I know they're there, metaphorical as they are each one is a memory carved into my flesh of the monster I am. Somehow, I don't see her scars quite the same way. They don't make her monstrous, just that she's been hurt.

"Then he's monstrous, not you," I say. I could match that story with one of my own. My own "father" shot me as I fled, but I am fucked up and I don't want to make that parallel between us. I know monsters and she isn't one.

"Besides. They look good on you. Suit you."