If It Wasn’t For Hate, We’d Be Dead By Now || Alexander & Landon
If Alexander’s bared teeth could be called a smile, so could Landon’s curled lip. The expression didn’t reach their eyes, either of them, and the whole meeting already had a sense of measurement about it. Two wildcats, two wolves, sizing each other up, circling, gauging each other for something: a contest of domination, a battle to first blood, a fight to the death… it was impossible to tell, not with the little the one knew of the other. “Mmh.” The hum was a low noise in the back of the mutant’s throat, a rumble that was almost a growl but held none of the challenge the noise might have contained. Too passive for that.
“Alexander.” Equally as cordial, equally as cool. No need to smile and crack some kind of inane joke; he very much doubted the other man would have laughed, even out of politeness. No need for a facade like that. No need for those games. The Hello went unreturned, assuming that the noise and the name combined to match it, even if the latter was an echo rather than an undertaking of his own. Social niceties were things to be forgotten now, discarded and left behind because they weren’t important. They were words, shields for true feelings, and these two, out of all the recently-met in the boardinghouse, had no need for that.
The dark man - dark in hair, dark in complexion, dark in words and tone and look - was something of interest to Landon. He’d hardly seemed human in the short conversation they’d shared, speaking of the scent of darkness and the hunt and the game as though he was a hound preparing to bay as the prey fled. But wasn’t that something that every person, mutant or not, wanted to indulge in? To drop their humanity, as an act, and to let loose whatever it was that was underneath? Wild and sanguine and vicious and hard to resist on the best of days.
Landon shook his head slightly, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind. No. No time for that, not now. Now was a time for control, for retention of humanity and of the little tics that kept him sane and controlled. Hence the walk, the escape. “Deciding if sticks’re more comfortable than your bed?” There was a note of sarcasm in the question, of cold distance and sharp prodding. “‘Cause they probably aren’t. Might be able to get you a dog’s bed, set it up on the floor in the hall, though, if that’d suit you better.” Now he was just mocking the other man, and hardly subtly. Perhaps he was looking for a reaction, or maybe just a conversation.
Warily letting his gaze creep across Landons face, Alexanders lips curled up in something of a more genuine smile, although it was still tinged with a touch of insanity. This man could be his equal, he considered thoughtfully but with a touch of manic glee, flaring his nostrils in a vain attempt to scent him even with a cold. Prowling forward a couple of steps, just enough to bring them within a decent conversation distance, he tilted his head slowly, dark eyes wide and unblinking. Making a small noise at the sound of his name, his smile grew broaded and a chuckle threatened to rumble its way out of his chest- instead coming forth as a rather violent, albeit quick, coughing fit. Sniffling angrily, Alexander wiped his nose with the back of his hand and frowned, irritation returning full-force as he was reminded of his sickness.
With another small, barely contained hacking cough, Alexander rolled his shoulders. “The sunlight is nice.” He defended, lips pursing together in what could almost be considered a pout. Already, as his mind was wont to do, Alexander was drifting off into theories. Facts. Observations he’d made. Landon didn’t inspire the same fire to destroy as everyone else seemed to do. No, instead he felt a small pleasant hum that almost inspired Alexander to be… well, not gentle. He could never be gentle. Perhaps… extend a sort of kinship. A silent pact that he wouldn’t go sneaking around the man, plotting the best ways to make him scream(-although, in an entirely different context…). Jerking himself back to the present, Alexander narrowed his eyes at the rest of the words, but grinned all the same. It was more amusing than annoying, anyways.
“Beds are too soft.” Idly, Alexander thought that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say. Didn’t matter. ”Set it up in front of your door, bet you’d like that.” His voice dropped to a low rumble, roughened by his scratchy throat. And this was an entirely different sort of play, one he’d never really had before. It was…nice. Flicking his eyes away for a moment, he paused. It was also strange, to be attempting to make some sort of conversation. If he had to talk, usually it was an act. But that was useless, and, well, unwanted around Landon.
“You run?” Alexander questioned, finally, voice still low, uncertain of what to say. His word-play skills were woefully thin, and without the adrenaline of the hunt, mocking conversation was harder to grasp with someone he half didn’t want to tear apart. (Although, to see Landon bleed, to see him cry, that would be beautiful, and now his eyes glinted with that desire and Alexander took a small breath to control himself. It wouldn’t do to go attacking the man, after all.) “In the daylight?” The smell of shadows, pervasive even to his currently stilted nose, followed Landon. Landon was something he’d expect to see looming in the darkness. Then again, he himself was napping out in the sun like a cat.
If It Wasn’t For Hate, We’d Be Dead By Now || Alexander & Landon
Landon needed to get out. Get out. Get out of the house, as much as he was afraid to do so. Not fear for himself; that would have been far too simple. Fear for Kaspar, fear of another round of retaliation from Riley, but also fear of himself, of what he was likely to do to the people he lived with if he stayed inside. Tear them apart, just for the sport of it. verbally, physically, it wouldn’t matter. He would be angry enough to not care, to not give a damn. He needed to get out.
Boulder wasn’t entirely a city; there were rural areas within walking distance, and they’d seemed safer than trying to wend his way through teeming masses that crowded slim sidewalks. So with the sun already risen but Kaspar not yet awake, the tall man had slipped out of the bed not his own to walk instead of run. It was rare for him, a creature of habit, to change his routine, but the situation required it, without a doubt. Just this once, he promised himself, and then he’d go back to running. He pushing himself harder, farther, faster, anything to work the kinks in his mind out through his legs, to lose his problems in pumping blood and harsh breathing that hurt his throat with every inhale.
The day was starting off warm, although not uncomfortably so, and was already providing quite a change from the frigid temperatures of weeks past. A slight breeze stirred Landon’s shirt, his hair, brushed against his skin almost timidly; the faint caress of an old friend. While he didn’t relax, he… unwound, at least somewhat. Sun, trees, and air came together and conspired to push thoughts of electricity and burned skin and revenge out of his mind, at least for the moment. They were hardly replaced with ideas more serene, but he managed a sort of emptiness that was peaceful all on its own.
The legs sticking out from behind the tree were what startled him out of that.
“Holy-” The start of the exclamation, probably meant to be followed by a sharp fuck, was cut off abruptly and one or two long strides forward rewarded narrowed blue eyes with a familiar face. Well. Familiar in that it was a face he’d conversed with briefly back at the boardinghouse, and one he’d seen after that, greeted with a cordial nod, mostly ignored. Seemed like he couldn’t escape the folks he lived with, even in his attempts to divest himself entirely of company. “Fanfuckingtastic,” Landon muttered, one foot scuffing at the dead leaves under his shoes.
Alexander tended not to spend much time in the house. He hated it. It confined him, and smells overlapped so much he could hardly tell one person from another anymore. With the added bonus of being stricken with a cold that took away nearly all of his specialized sense, it should have made being in the house bearable. Instead, it only made him more irritable and every time someone so much as glanced his way he wanted to bare his teeth at them and rip their heads off. So he took to the more rural areas of the place he’d landed in, curling up against a particularly sturdy tree and letting himself be lulled to sleep by the warm sunlight.
It wasn’t a true sleep, though, more of a doze where drifted pleasantly through macrabe dreams of blood and gore, dreaming of the days when he could return to his hunts instead of remaining so dormant and lazy. Maybe it was a testament to how safe and unnoticiable he felt with these people that he fell asleep, but it was more likely Alexander was merely arrogant enough to think no one could surprise him. He reacted more violently at being woken then he might usually, unable to control his insticts kicking in with someone happening upon him and not catching their scent to warn him of their approach.
Alexander was halfway to the knife in his backpocket before his eyes finally focused on the face, and Alexander had to shake his head violently to clear the sleep haze from his mind, and he forced his shoulders to relax, letting his hand drop back to his side without ever touching the long blade with its dried blood stains he’d never bothered to clean off. Wrinkling his nose in irritation from the stuffy feeling, he bared his teeth in something that might resemble a smile in some alternate universe. Frankly, his fingers itched to draw blood and Alexander was not in the mood to pretend to be much else than what he really was.
One finger twitching violently and uncontrollably, he brought the offending hand up to run through his hair instead. “Landon.” Alexander snapped wearily and with a touch of hostility. Not so much at the man himself, because if he’d had to pick one person of all the people he found himself living with, this was the one he’d probably end up leaving alive. For a while, at the very least. No, the hostility was more of being woken when he’d had such little chance to sleep lately. He never did sleep well when he was sick. “…Hello.” He tacked on, grudgingly. Pleasantries were something usually required.
(Why thank you! I spend hours on playlists for my characters, so that means quite a lot.)
Bored. And sick.
Don’t know. But I hate it. Can’t smell.
Allergies..perhaps? A cold..maybe. Sleep might help…
Don’t care. Can’t sleep, either. Don’t want to.
Bored. And sick.
Green tea then…just give me a moment..—…um..you.
…Thank you. —What?
I just..didn’t know your name. Don’t. Don’t know..your name..
…Oh. Alexander. Caverly. And— you?
Stella Token…here’s your tea, Alexander Caverly…
Stella. Thank you. It’s…appreciated.
Not a problem…how did you get sick..?
Don’t know. But I hate it. Can’t smell.
Bored. And sick.
Green tea then…just give me a moment..—…um..you.
…Thank you. —What?
I just..didn’t know your name. Don’t. Don’t know..your name..
…Oh. Alexander. Caverly. And— you?
Stella Token…here’s your tea, Alexander Caverly…
Stella. Thank you. It’s…appreciated.
Bored. And sick.
Green tea then…just give me a moment..—…um..you.
…Thank you. —What?
I just..didn’t know your name. Don’t. Don’t know..your name..
…Oh. Alexander. Caverly. And— you?
Bored. And sick.
..Care for some tea..?
…
What kind?
Green tea…there’s also something else..has ginger in it.
Fine, yes, good. …Please.
Which..one?
Either. Doesn’t matter. Maybe the Green tea.
Green tea then…just give me a moment..—…um..you.
…Thank you. —What?
Bored. And sick.
..Care for some tea..?
…
What kind?
Green tea…there’s also something else..has ginger in it.
Fine, yes, good. …Please.
Which..one?
Either. Doesn’t matter. Maybe the Green tea.
