the hardest of {hearts} [blitz; dars]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

Falling. Maybe not so much literally, but Sephera could practically feel the wind darting through her fingers, parting her hair. It was so delightful, so unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was strange, to think she, the cold, worthless, girl without a heart that spent her days pushing herself away from everybody, and closer to isolation. She was almost invisible until Jamarion came along. Something about both the worst and the best in her, and she couldn't keep them inside like she preferred. Why would she wear her emotions on her sleeve? Nobody was ever close enough to see them. She stared down at the half empty bowl of food in her lap. Her mother had always complained when she or her father tried to sneak a meal in the living room, saying it was tacky, and, she really didn't want her furniture ruined. No, now wasn't the time to be weak. Now wasn't the time to show him this side of her. He'd already seen too much of her, it was a miracle that he was still even around at all. "Um, sure," She said, never taking her eyes off of the food in her hand as she carelessly flicked the remote.

She couldn't stop herself from realizing that nothing was the same without her there. That even though everybody else had moved on, and she was still stuck in the same ruts, trying to climb out of a chasm so deep and dark she couldn't see her hand in front of her face, or see sunlight on the hottest days. Maybe somebody to help her was what she needed. Of course, she wasn't going to ask somebody to help her move on, because she still wasn't ready. Shrugging off the attempt to change the subject, she looked at him as he stared blankly at the television. She moved herself closer to him so that she could whisper her secret. So that nobody else could hear her. So that she could be vulnerable, and nobody else could know. She leaned in even closer, just as a second reassurance. "You know, my mom always said it was bad manners to eat in the living room, but I think she was just worried somebody would make a mess on her couch." She closed her eyes, remembering all of the times she'd felt the warm underside of her mother's hand in her own, the soft voice that sang her to sleep so many times. "I miss her....so much."

[Python]

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The station switched, and on came an interview with commentators that were discussing subjects completely irrelevant to anything Jamarion was interested in. It was better than watching another Games rerun, however, and with a shrug he continued to shove forkfuls of pasta into his mouth and zone out as the droning voices on the television bored him to death. He was faintly aware of Sepher’s form shifting beside him, sliding ever so closer to him across the sofa and leaning toward him as if preparing to whisper a secret to him. Pausing mid-bite, he set his fork back down into the bowl and listened to what she was muttering to him, silently wondering why she was talking so quietly when nobody else was around to hear them. Unless, of course, her parents were in the vicinity, in which case the visit would become awkward quickly if they decided to drop in on them. Did they even know Jamarion existed?

He returned her statement with a blank stare. Why was she mentioning this now, when they were already sitting on the couch defying her mothers wishes? The answer didn’t arrive quickly; he first noticed that her demeanor had suddenly changed, leaving her lips creased into a frown and her eyes leaking sorrow into the atmosphere. Something about mentioning her mother was upsetting her, he could deduce that much. But what? ”I miss her…” So, she was gone. Was she gone permanently, like Jamarion’s own mother that perished soon after birthing a set of quintuplets, or was she away on a trip? Perhaps in the Detention Center for a crime? He couldn’t make a decent enough guess, and as each second passed she seemed to grow more and more melancholy by the thought of her. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he cleared his throat and glanced over at her, unsure of how to handle the situation.

”What happened to her?”[/justify][/blockquote]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

Her hand slid across the smooth fabric of the couch until it found Jamarion's, and she clenched it softly as she tried to pull the tears back inside, to keep them from splashing down her face. Crying wasn't going to change anything. Her mother was gone, and she wasn't coming back. Still, Jamarion would understand. More than anybody else, he could know what she meant. Or did he? He hadn't really gotten the time to meet his mother, to become attached to her. Maybe his kind of pain was different than her's. Maybe he didn't have any pain over the subject at all. No, that wasn't true, anybody would be upset about not having a mother, even the most heartless person. Jamar was not heartless, despite what others, or even he liked to believe. She could see the good in him, and she was determined to bring it out. Why? She had never needed, or even wanted somebody to be along side her until she met him, so it was strange that she was trying so hard to be with somebody now.

"She-" Sephera had to clear her throat in order to rid her voice of the vile pitch in which she was speaking, and tried again. "She got stabbed, and it was my fault." That was it. The truth. Now he knew how much of a monster she was. Now he could run and hide like everybody else did, and she deserved it. She knew who was to blame for her mother's death, and she wished it would've been her instead of her mother. It seemed like things would've been so much better that way. With her mom here, and Sephera gone. She looked at Jamarion, awaiting his reaction. What was he going to do? Storm out with saying a word? Tell her how worthless she was? Hit her? She didn't know, and even though she was prepared to hear it, she didn't want to know.

[Python]

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He felt a warm, delicate hand wrap around his own, prompting him to glance down at their connected fingers before forcing his gaze to return to the ones that seemed to glisten with welling tears. The two of them were, in fact, different in their relationships with their mothers. Jamarion’s did not exist, because the woman had died shortly after his birth. The only things he knew about her were her name and what she looked like the day she married their father. Sephera, on the other hand, had become acquainted with her mother well enough to miss her when she suddenly disappeared - when the blade wielded by whomever the culprit was plunged into her skin. It was a gruesome way to die considering it happened in a district rather than in an arena on live television, but there was violence lurking in the streets as well as on television, and he knew that. Hell, he had even caused some of it, though he’d never once picked up a knife. There was really no need to stab people; beating them into the dirt normally took care of the job.

Her fault - he had trouble believing that. How could her mother’s death be her fault? Unless she was the one who physically drew the blade across her skin, it was not her fault. She was just guilt-tripping herself, that was all (or so he convinced himself). Jamarion stared awkwardly at the floor, unable to muster a decent response on the spot. What was he supposed to say, that he was sorry? He wasn’t one for pitying people, though he did feel a twinge of sadness for Sephera and her mother. He decided against it at the last moment, and instead asked a curious question that was nagging the back of his brain like an annoying, buzzing fly.

”How is it your fault?" He wasn’t holding back. He lacked the filter required to keep personal questions within the curious mind and allowing only appropriate ones to wander outward. What he was asking was a bit too personal, especially considering it was causing her obvious distress, but being Jamarion Goravich, he was too dull to realize it.[/color][/justify][/blockquote]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

Exhaling every bit of breath from her lungs, only to take in more air within the few seconds that her body could handle no air. It was sad, really, how her entire existence depended on so many things that could, one day, just disappear. Air, water, food, the choices were endless, and she'd be dead within a week without any of them. She might've been wrong, though, because she thought she needed her mother, and she'd made it out okay. Or had she? Was this what was considered 'okay'? Going through life just to get to the next day, never hoping it will bring something new? Hoping that she can go by as unnoticed as possible? No, Sephera Greene was far from okay, and it wasn't difficult for her to figure out.

She felt her grip on Jamarion's hand tighten, then loosen. Almost o the point that she was no longer holding it. She was scared to have these feeling. She didn't want to be, but she still was. What if she lost him? What if she lost anybody? Her dad, who was currently napping in his room, or even her kitten, also known as the only reason Jamarion Goravich was sitting on her couch. Now he wants to know how. How? Because she was stupid. She wasn't brave. She glared at him as though it should've been clearer than an July sky. "It just is. She couldn't find her wallet, and it was because I had it." She shook her head. Why was she doing this? Why was she telling him all of the things that would push him away from her? It might've been because she'd spent the last several years of her life doing that to anybody that came near her, but she actually wanted him to stay. Jamarion was different, and she knew nobody would ever understand that. As she repositioned herself to look down at the floor she hoped that he'd take the hint she was giving him."I don't really want to talk about it right now."

[Python]

-----------------------

Apparently he’d made a mistake. The instant the word drifted from between his lips he noticed a reaction; the wrinkling of her forehead and the narrowing of her eyes into a glare that struck him like a bolt of lighting. He had merely asked a simple question, and now she was angry with him. How many emotions was she going to experience in just ten minutes? First, fear. Second, despair - this one leaving its mark upon her face, her eyes damp from salty tears and the areas around them flushed from the distress. Now, it was anger. She was angry with him for asking what he did, and he failed to understand why. He always did, though, didn‘t he? He always failed to comprehend complex aspects of life such as the emotions others felt while he remained in the cold darkness like a forgotten snowflake. Even Hopper told him he would never actually get it. Maybe he was right after all.

She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Well, thank goodness, he didn’t want to either. It was obviously a touchy subject judging by the way she reacted so unpleasantly, and he didn’t like dealing with people’s personal issues. Curiosity still poked and prodded him to press forward and squeeze the answers out of her, but for once in his life he made the intelligent decision to shut up and drop the subject.

”Okay,” he said evenly, sliding his hand out of her gentle grasp to comfort her some other way. Jamarion wasn’t much experienced with physical comfort, and merely stared at her for a moment before taking any action. Didn’t people usually pat each other’s backs when they were upset? No, she probably didn’t want to be touched like that now. He silently patted her gingerly upon the leg, a tiny reassurance that he was somewhat apologetic, and still listening, surprisingly enough.[/color][/blockquote][/justify]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

Her hand quickly found his again as it slid off of her leg. She didn't know why, but somehow, his touch was making things easier for her. She pulled back onto her leg and looked at him desperately. She hadn't meant to hut his feelings, she just didn't know how to explain the guilt. As a tear spilled down her face, she felt herself get angry at everything. At him, at her mom, at Hopper, at her Dad- because none of them understood, and none of them could understand. It was as if she were the only person in the world who did understood, actually. She glanced at the hand on her leg that wasn't her own. If she was mad at him, why was she begging for his touch? It wasn't fair! He should've been the one begging, and Sephera was going to make it happen. Pulling herself in close to him, she laid her head on his shoulder, nudging his neck with her nose. "I'm sorry." She said, but was she sorry for what she'd done, or what she was about to do?

Heavy breath after heavy breath found it's way out of her mouth, and they only kept coming. Things were so unexplainable with Sephera. It wasn't just one thing words couldn't describe, it was everything. Her past, her present, her future, even her actions. It was all just there, with no explanation. They held no motive. Now, she was going to change that. She was going to make sense of something, like what her intentions were as she kissed the vein that stood out furthest on the boy's neck. She wanted somebody to want her. She was tired of wishing she could have things. It was somebody else's turn. Jamarion's turn. Bring her hand up to find the shoulder opposite of the one she had her head on, she closed her eyes, satisfied with the fact that she'd managed to change the subject without starting a fight. She pulled him in close to her, wanting everything outside the two of them to disappear so that his attention was fully on her, and it was going to work. One way or another.

[Python]

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Tears were something Jamarion experienced difficulty handling. He had hoped dropping the subject would help return her to her earlier mood, but instead she tugged on his retracting hand and placed it back upon her leg as he spotted a single tear slipping down her cheek. He didn’t protest against keeping his hand on her leg as a small form of comfort, but other than that he did absolutely nothing. He wasn’t sure how to deal with people when they cried; he never cried himself, so how could he expect to understand it when others did? He instead squirmed in the lingering silence until she moved to rest her head upon his shoulder, apologizing for something she really hadn’t done. Of course, he hadn’t done anything wrong either besides ask a simple question - something completely justified in his opinion. So, there was really no reason for either of them to apologize, especially Sephera. Unless she was apologizing for acting so moody; then, in that case, the apology was accepted and understood.

A warm tingling like the heat radiating from a tiny, kindling flame crept its way across his neck, no doubt from Sephera’s breathing as he rested her head upon his shoulder. His lean frame sat stiffly against the cushions, frozen in place by his command and inability to make a decision regarding how the hell he was supposed to “comfort” her. He felt the gentle touch - soft as a feather - of her lips against the sensitive skin on his neck, and for a moment be pondered just what exactly she was looking for in this little comforting session on the sofa. As if to answer his question, she reached for his other shoulder and attempted to pull him closer, and with no complaints whatsoever he allowed it. Cuddling, maybe that’s what she wanted. Couples cuddled all the time, right? That was perfectly natural though not to this big brute. Deciding to give it a try, he wrapped the arm closest to her form around her and flicked is gaze down to her, faintly wondering what exactly was shifting around in that pretty head of hers.

[/color][/justify][/blockquote]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

A memory of her mother flooded into her head. Walking down the very same sidewalk that she was killed on. That they were both killed on. With her arms outstretched by her side, Sephera ran along the concrete pathway, making sure she had her mother's full attention. "Look, Mommy!" She pleaded, "This is how an angel flies!" She'd then jump as far as she could into the air. The memory seemed to be of different people that happened to look like old friends. Like people that she was once very close to, but has lost touch with since. She shuddered, both from the cold memory that brought reality's harsh hand across her face, and because of the boy pulling her in close. She couldn't let her mind play tricks on her anymore! She couldn't let it win! If using Jamarion was the only way to do it, then she was going to do it. Bringing her lips to meet his neck once more, she felt her heart begin to pound against the inside of her chest, her pulse rising already. "So beautiful!" Her mother said. Another kiss. "Maybe dying isn't all that bad!" Biting his neck was the only option, or so it seemed. She needed to bring things to the next level.

She dug her nails into the boy's shirt, and pulled it into an uneven, untidy ball of cloth. Everything about this boy had always been so fascinating to her. His looks, his refusal to bow, even his smell was pulling Sephera deeper and deeper into a hole, and she already knew she didn't want to try and climb out. Terrified? Yes. Willing to try? Yes. Willing to say goodbye? Never. She tried to only think of Jamarion, of the fact that he was actually allowing her to be this close to him, and even more so that he was puling her in as well. "Show Daddy, Sephera, how angels fly." Her mother laughed. Once more, Sephera lifted her arms and danced across the floor like a ballerina, like a swan. This is how an angel flies? She scoffed in her mind as yet another, stronger kiss found itself on his warm skin. She was far from an angel, far from anything pure and good. Well, this is the story of how one died.

[Python]

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It wasn’t until he was sucked into the addiction that he realized he had longed for the feel of her lips against his skin ever since their last departure. He figured he would never discover what was happening beneath that head of blonde hair, but what she was doing at the moment was a bit more interesting than what she was thinking. What had started out as a small, flickering candle flame emitting the gentlest ribbons of warmth was now spreading like a virus across his tingling neck, except this virus was not one he wanted to avoid; it was one he’d rather embrace like a long lost friend not that he‘s had many of those. He felt a small set of teeth nipping at one of his veins, earning a small gasp and a flinch from the boy who hadn’t expected her to bite him of all things. Nonetheless, it was absolute bliss crawling across his skin and stirring up his blood. Whatever her intentions were - and he had a feeling he knew - he would comply without uttering even a whisper of a complaint.

The next level was always an available option. She seized a bundle of fabric from his shirt, bunching it up into a little wad in her hand with no evident intentions to stop ambushing his neck like a wonderful leech. Deciding he would rather change the course of action himself he turned his head and angled it toward where her own gently rested, making practical use of his free hand by nudging her beneath her chin while the other remained wrapped around her form like an impenetrable strand of spider’s web. His mind was completely wiped clean of everything that happened in the past ten minutes, other than Seph regarding him as her “boyfriend”, a label that would take time adjusting to not that he minded the relationship they were currently sharing. It was nice to have some peace and quiet without his siblings poisoning the atmosphere with their whining and shouting and irksome habits. Taking advantage of the freedom, he leapt in for a kiss of his own, savoring the moment before either a) something obnoxious interrupted them or b) she decided to do something strange again. Was a little tranquility too much to ask?

[/color][/justify][/blockquote]

[dars]

Sephera Greene .

You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?
What's the point in playing a game your gonna lose?
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go, oh

-----------------------------

Main, Emphasis, Speaking

Deep blue velvet rubbed across the surface of Sephera's warm and soft cheek and her mother squeezed her in closer to her, lifting her from the ground in a tight embrace. She could practically still feel it, sliding so effortlessly around her. Pushing the thought under her, burying it beneath her feet, she pulled herself onto the boy's lap, refusing to let her mind over power her. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she smiled eloquently into Jamarion's eyes. She knew what she was doing, and he didn't. She hungered for Jamarion, but her hunger for power was stronger now. She wanted to know she had him right where she wanted him. She did have him right where she wanted him, and she pulled her lips closer and closer to his, slowly, making him await a prize she knew he wasn't going to get. So close that all that was left to do was let her lips find his, and she pulled herself back, smiling.

Being classy had always been something Sephera had on her side. She had always been the girl that, if nothing else, was considered a lady. Look at me now. She thought. Her lips pushed themselves into the boy's strong jaw line whenever she made herself come close to him again. Her nails latched onto him as if he were her prey. As if she were playing with her food. A heavy breath found itself leaving her lungs slowly, as if her body were trying to drag out the process of breathing, until there was no air left. When her nose finally began to pull air back in, she smelled him. Strong, herbal, she assumed because of the pasta, and over all, rather nice. No, not nice, too nice. It made things more difficult on her end, harder to focus, harder to remember what her intentions were. If it were a game, Jamar would almost be winning without even realizing it.