Blood, Gore, and Butterflies


ash_icon.gif isis_icon.gif

Scene Title Blood, Gore, and Butterflies
Synopsis Ash comes home dressed in blood and gets bandages and questions from Isis.
Date 07/24

Isis's Apartment

A generic, small apartment of lacquered wooden flooring and a bland white paint stretched across the high-reaching walls. One enters into the small sitting area which is braced by a kitchenette near the entry door. The sitting area lacks a television, instead serving as a computer room for a small, stacked black desk and two large bookcases staked high and alphabetically with a variety of texts. This room does boast a few many windows. The glass is meticulously shined and lets in a fresh wash of sunlight at day, and gossamer moonlight at night, though it grants only the shabby view of the crowded streets of the Bronx below. A set of billowing silver curtains are fastened up at either side of the windows, offering their usefulness for privacy when one desires it.

The room is set with two doors, excluding the entry, into other areas of the tiny apartment. To the north is a little room, crowded with an oversized bed done up in sheets of emerald green and silver. The plush mattress makes it nearly impossible to fit aught else inside, but for the small bookshelf hung over the head of the bedding. The southern down leads one to a small privy with the necessary toiletries and a simple, standing shower. The boring spans of egg-shell white are kept compulsively clean by the look of it.

The only exit from the apartment is a simple, heavy wood door to the west, a deadbolt lock supported by a thin chain lock dangling above it. The air of this home smells faintly of cologne and candles.

Ash has a well, a cloak, like an old school cloak on, like back from the medieval ages. He moves into the apartment and then takes it off, scuffing the bottoms of his boots on it, a red residue coming off on the cloak. He looks around the room for Isis before spotting her, and with the cloak dropped she'll be able to see that the man is… utterly soaked in blood. It coats his clothing, his skin, his hair, the gun at his belt, the combat knife at his belt. It's dried and thick now, mostly dried anyway, but the reason for the cloak is pretty obvious. He looks up with a grin, and a very predatory look still in his eyes. "Hey there Isis."

The little redhead pops up from the sofa at the sound of the door, her dark gaze turning to the sight of her entering lover - her blood-soaked lover, at that. Instantly the book from her hands slides away, falling to the floor with a hollow thud where it hits the cheap wood floor. "Ash?" Curiosity and worry tickle at her alto tones as she slowly unfolds from herself, taking her gloves from the coffee table out of mere habit even as she steps forward, closing some but not all of the distance between her and the bloodied man. "Ash, what happened?"

Ash looks down at his very gory form, and he actually reaches down and plucks a bit of bone from his tanktop. He's dressed in jeans and a tanktop, nothing else, though there's some relatively clean spots on his chest in the exact shape of a bulletproof vest. "Had a job…" He rolls his shoulders backwards a bit, grimacing in pain, but not the kind of pain that would signify injury, just tiredness. "Sorry, didn't mean to worry you with my appearance and shit, but well… kinda needed to get myself a shower and shit." He flashes her a grin, and it's then that she might notice that Ash didn't escape whatever happened unscathed. There's a set of clawmarks on his left cheek, fairly deep marks too that split his cheek open in four neat lines, running from by his ear, all the way to his chin and lips before they dissapear, though they're hard to make out beneath all of the stuff covering the man.

Whatever distance Isis had claimed falters, her shaken balance stealing her backward a few steps from the macabre image presented before her. "This is your new job with Adam, then…" she states quietly as her dark gaze continues to roam the details of the blood and gore. Somehow she was always the one getting into a mess of trouble, though? Her stomach twist and churns in a few nauseating coils. "Who?" she asks, clarifying her statement only by making a vague gesture towards the spattering of blood and gore clinging to Ash's clothes and flesh.

Ash looks down at himself, then back up to Isis and shakes his head to her statement about it being his new job. "Nope, not at all. Shit went down wrong and something ended up happening that wasn't supposed to. I'm working for him as fuckin muscle, but not normally in this regard." He reaches down and peels the blood matted tank top off, dropping it into the cloak and turning his eyes on his lover. "Uhhh… that's a rather complicated explenation? And I'm not sure how much Adam would kick my ass for telling you all about it? Suffice to say it was a mercy, and there was no choice." Ash sighs a bit, obviously not liking having to keep some of what happened from Isis.

Isis lifts a small hand, pointing vaguely towards the bathroom. "Go wash up," she demands despite the small quiver tickling up the back of her slender throat. She does not approach, but nor does she retreat. Her gaze simply follows the lift and fall of the bloody and discarded shirt, watching long after it is nothing but a blob of white and red upon her apartment floor. "I'll get rid of all that," she says in a smoother tone. Work, it was something to keep her mind from faultering.

Ash strips the rest of the way, putting all the cloathing in the cloak before wrapping it up and dumping it into a trash bag and setting it near the door, then he heads into the bathroom. He takes a little while to wash all that nasty off of his body, but he does come back out awhile later, dressed in a pair of jeans and another tank top, his hair touseled and wet. The gashes on his cheek are much more prevalent now, and with the fresh washing they're bleeding, more leaking than bleeding, but still bleeding. He dabs at the blood with a wad of toilet paper as he comes into the living room.

As promised the bag of evidence is gone when Ash returns from the shower, though one cannot be sure how or where the mess has gone. Isis is seated rigidly on the sofa, leaning forward with her elbows braced to her parted knees and her hands clasped loosely before her. She looks up at the sound of door, focusing once more upon the large man even while for all appearances it was as if she were looking through him.

Ash looks down to Isis and his lips curve into a frown at her posture. He sighs a little bit and moves forwards some so sink down onto the other end of the couch and look at the woman he calls his significant other. "Lets have it Isis, so we can put it behind us." He sighs a bit, his shoulders rolling before he winces and lifts the toilet paper to his cheek, dabbing at the wounds again to soak up the errant blood. He reaches down into his pocket and pulls out a box of butterfly clips and bandages before looking to the woman. "Think yah can help me while we talk?" He asks, pointing to the gashes on his cheek.

Isis lofts a brow as Ash takes on a defeatist attitude. "I'm not going to argue with you. I've know what you're capable of. You're a big boy and I'm not your mommy, Ash." She sighs as she reaches out, taking the first aid tools in her little hands. She shuffles nearer on the plush sofa and tucks her legs beneath her, kneeling as she leans forward to begins pinching closed the wounds and laying the bandages over them. "Just… I expect the same courtesy, yeah?"

Ash winces as pain lances through his face when the wounds are pinched closed like that. His jaw clenches during the work and his eyes close, bearing through the pain. "Fuck me… hurts worse getting them fixed than it did getting them." he lets out a sigh and nods his head a touch. "Yeah, big fucking boy and all. But I still don't like that look in your eyes Isis. I really don't…" he looks over towards the door, where his belt and the gun and knife still sit, those were cleaned somewhat before coming inside so they wouldn't need to go in the trash bag, and sitting with them is a pair of brass knuckles as well. "I'll ask Adam if I'm free to talk to you about this shit or not, I don't like keeping it from you."

Isis cringes and pulls back a moment as Ash fusses beneath her band aids. She didn't have the gentlest touch, that was certain. She sighs and tips back forward to tend to the cuts. "I'd like that. I have… questions. I'm afraid you've traded your morals for money, you know?" She grunts. Morals - as if she had any worth mentioning. Really, such things only depended on her mood. She bites her tongue as her own penance and finishes tending the last wound before slumping back and allowing her gaze to meet Ash's own.

Ash blinks a few times when she mentions him trading his morals for money. "That's usually what you do when you take on work that's under the table Isis, specially when you have my kinda fuckin past. He sighs in relief as the wounds are clipped closed and he leans back. "Fuck… they're gonna scar pretty good I think, unless I can find a healer somewhere, and the only one I knew I haven't seen around lately." He runs his fingers through his wet hair and sighs a little bit. "It's this or nothing is the problem Isis. And…" His broad shoulders shrug a little bit. "I enjoyed myself. That's the first time I've ever truly ripped loose with my abilities… and god did it feel good." He leans back, relaxing and watching her, a soft smile touching his lips.

Blink blink. Isis looks blankly at her companion for a long moment. For one that knows her well, he could see the flare in her temper boiling beneath the surface. "I - I don't even know what to say to you…" She begins, frustrations slowly churning into something more. She pops up from the sofa and begins to pace back and forth like a caged animal within the lines of the tiny living room.
Ash looks to Isis as he sees that temper flaring and his head cocks to the side, in both confusion and curiosity. "It was life or death Isis. I chose to live. The fact that I enjoyed letting loose with my abilities is besides the point. If I hadn't killed I'd be dead right now." He isn't apologizing at all for it. He leans back and just watches her. "What's wrong? Me? the work? The fact that I enjoyed it? Talk to me here Isis."

"I don't know. I just don't know. I'm not one to talk about morals and shit," At least she's wise enough to admit it. "But… Are you out there killing children? Mothers? Fathers? Have you even thought about that?" She shudders and shakes her head. She suddenly dips towards the sofa and pulls a pack of cigarettes from her back, pulling one from the pack and sighing as she lights it at her lips. "I'm just… out of it. I don't know."

Ash sighs softly at this and he closes his eyes. "I really need to talk to Adam. No I'm not, and yes I am. It's complicated." He rubs at his forhead a bit. "Trust me okay Isis? I'm going to talk to Adam about talking to you about this shit, but please trust me for the time being?" He blinks at the cigarette, his head tilting to the side, as smoking is not something he's ever seen her do before.
You say, "When the fuck did you start smoking?"

Isis nods slowly as she pinches the cigarette and pulls it from the bow of her pale lips, a few tendrils of smoke trickling from the bud of her button nose. "Bad habit from childhood," she murmurs as she looks down at the cancer stick. She sighs and pulls the cigarette back to her lips before looking to Ash and giving another nod. "I'll try, but I'd like to know what's going on," she promises quietly.

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