***
The characters belong to Top cow and TNT as do all their toys, accessories and appliances, including the Witchblade. The Sufult, Tome, Key, towel and a toothbrush are mine.
*warnings, apologies and excuses*
***
Swearing
******************** denotes change of scenery
Tenebrous
chapter 12
*****************************************
After bitching out the hapless drunk, Sara turned back to Ian. He was, for some reason, suppressing a smirk. Not sure if he was amused at her being blamed for his stone tossing, losing her temper or still gloating over his 'Mrs. Robinson' jab, she turned her anger back on him.
She was tired of all his little insinuations that she was behaving lasciviously towards Gabriel, especially since Ian's own intentions seemed questionable. "Y'know, Nottingham, I'm not sure which definition of cosset you were going for but I sure as hell am NOT a 'Mrs. Robinson'! Even if I was interested in Gabriel that way, he's not that much younger than I am. And I haven't been hitting on him, so drop the taunts."
Ian eyed Sara in disbelief. "Oh, how could I have come to such a conclusion when your antics this evening have been so chaste." He sneered.
"My antics! God Nottingham, I've only been trying to take care of him and give him some rest despite your unpredictable high jinks," she barked irritably before muttering; "That thing in the bathroom was an innocent mistake."
"Innocent," Nottingham snorted derisively. He wanted to point out that her recent endeavors weren't exactly rest inducing, but somehow thought she wouldn't like the idea of him peeking in her bedroom window. "You have very unusual methods of 'taking care' of the injured. I noticed you didn't give the boy anything to eat. Starvation is not the usual remedy for blood loss and shock."
Sara, about to retort fiercely, paled. God, what was she thinking? It was embarrassing that Nottingham was more aware of Gabriel's needs than her. "I... I'll give him something when he wakes up," she muttered guiltily. All the chaos of the evening had not really allowed her a clear head. First Nottingham's attack on Gabriel, then this new threat of the sect, Gabe nearly falling off her bike then almost drowning, Nottingham breaking in and taunting her...
The Wielder's indignation returned as if it had never left. "Wait a minute, You're the one who caused this in the first place! I can't believe you Nottingham! All the shit you pull and then you have the nerve to criticize me for inadequate remedy of YOUR damage?"
"I'm sure he will be delighted with your stale pizza." Ian commented, not even bothering to address her accusation. In his opinion, it was mostly Gabriel's own fault for his injuries. The assassin would have left him unharmed if he hadn't been so difficult. "I doubt you have even seen the interior of a food store," he muttered for no other reason than to throw her off the subject. It worked like a charm.
"I HAVE bought groceries before, Nottingham, not everyone has the time to wander around grocery stores and spend hours preparing food." Even as she spoke she realized he'd baited her into a ridiculous argument that had nothing to do with anything. "You know what, Nottingham? If your so concerned about what I feed him, why don't you go to the market and get him something yourself?" Ian eyed her as if she'd just shoved poop in his face.
"I cannot leave my post until Mr. Irons deems fit. I suggest you open your self to the possibility of grocery shopping, It might do you some good to see what an apple looks like." Ian retorted, wondering how to get out of the pointless argument he'd started. He wished the Sufult would show up to distract either he or Sara. She'd latched onto the silly diversion like a Rottweiler and still hadn't admitted to her lustful endeavors towards the annoying boy.
"You're just trying to get alone with Gabriel, aren't you? What was the deal with him being on your lap like that anyway?" Sara demanded.
"I was TRYING to break his legs!" Ian exclaimed irritably, running out of patience.
Sara's expression went from irritated to shocked and settled on furious. The assassin had never seen her actually shake with anger before. He noticed her clenched fists and wondered if he shouldn't have just gone along with Sara's kinky pervert theory.
********************
The dilapidated Pinto wound it's way through the city streets. It's driver and his cohort scanned their surroundings as the vehicle cruised along.
"Do you think the Prime Consul is angry with us?" Brother Nolan asked. He was a bit apprehensive about their current assignment. He'd heard the sect had lost a decent share of its members this evening and the heretics had lost none.
"Why would he be angry with us?" queried Brother Wickel. Unbeknownst to his passenger, the assignment had been given by the Consul's Aide, Magistrate Banol.
"Well, our orders are to scout the very area that our brothers were slain for scouting. Judging by what's been happening, I'd say we would be next," Brother Nolan explained.
"It is a privilege to die for the Sufult," Brother Wickel retorted fervently.
Brother Nolan did not comment. He was aware that as a disciple of the Sufult, zealous devotion was expected. But sometimes he wished he had been raised in a religion that did not regularly demand risking one's life. Perhaps Protestant, they seemed to have it fairly easy. The downside being that Protestants were supposed to respect society in general, rather than undermine it. They were also usually unarmed; he shuddered at the thought. Fingering one of his daggers to soothe himself, he scanned the area. He wouldn't describe it as desolate but it was fairly quiet, save a few cabs driving by and an inebriated man singing loudly.
tbc
The characters belong to Top cow and TNT as do all their toys, accessories and appliances, including the Witchblade. The Sufult, Tome, Key, towel and a toothbrush are mine.
*warnings, apologies and excuses*
***
Swearing
******************** denotes change of scenery
Tenebrous
chapter 12
*****************************************
After bitching out the hapless drunk, Sara turned back to Ian. He was, for some reason, suppressing a smirk. Not sure if he was amused at her being blamed for his stone tossing, losing her temper or still gloating over his 'Mrs. Robinson' jab, she turned her anger back on him.
She was tired of all his little insinuations that she was behaving lasciviously towards Gabriel, especially since Ian's own intentions seemed questionable. "Y'know, Nottingham, I'm not sure which definition of cosset you were going for but I sure as hell am NOT a 'Mrs. Robinson'! Even if I was interested in Gabriel that way, he's not that much younger than I am. And I haven't been hitting on him, so drop the taunts."
Ian eyed Sara in disbelief. "Oh, how could I have come to such a conclusion when your antics this evening have been so chaste." He sneered.
"My antics! God Nottingham, I've only been trying to take care of him and give him some rest despite your unpredictable high jinks," she barked irritably before muttering; "That thing in the bathroom was an innocent mistake."
"Innocent," Nottingham snorted derisively. He wanted to point out that her recent endeavors weren't exactly rest inducing, but somehow thought she wouldn't like the idea of him peeking in her bedroom window. "You have very unusual methods of 'taking care' of the injured. I noticed you didn't give the boy anything to eat. Starvation is not the usual remedy for blood loss and shock."
Sara, about to retort fiercely, paled. God, what was she thinking? It was embarrassing that Nottingham was more aware of Gabriel's needs than her. "I... I'll give him something when he wakes up," she muttered guiltily. All the chaos of the evening had not really allowed her a clear head. First Nottingham's attack on Gabriel, then this new threat of the sect, Gabe nearly falling off her bike then almost drowning, Nottingham breaking in and taunting her...
The Wielder's indignation returned as if it had never left. "Wait a minute, You're the one who caused this in the first place! I can't believe you Nottingham! All the shit you pull and then you have the nerve to criticize me for inadequate remedy of YOUR damage?"
"I'm sure he will be delighted with your stale pizza." Ian commented, not even bothering to address her accusation. In his opinion, it was mostly Gabriel's own fault for his injuries. The assassin would have left him unharmed if he hadn't been so difficult. "I doubt you have even seen the interior of a food store," he muttered for no other reason than to throw her off the subject. It worked like a charm.
"I HAVE bought groceries before, Nottingham, not everyone has the time to wander around grocery stores and spend hours preparing food." Even as she spoke she realized he'd baited her into a ridiculous argument that had nothing to do with anything. "You know what, Nottingham? If your so concerned about what I feed him, why don't you go to the market and get him something yourself?" Ian eyed her as if she'd just shoved poop in his face.
"I cannot leave my post until Mr. Irons deems fit. I suggest you open your self to the possibility of grocery shopping, It might do you some good to see what an apple looks like." Ian retorted, wondering how to get out of the pointless argument he'd started. He wished the Sufult would show up to distract either he or Sara. She'd latched onto the silly diversion like a Rottweiler and still hadn't admitted to her lustful endeavors towards the annoying boy.
"You're just trying to get alone with Gabriel, aren't you? What was the deal with him being on your lap like that anyway?" Sara demanded.
"I was TRYING to break his legs!" Ian exclaimed irritably, running out of patience.
Sara's expression went from irritated to shocked and settled on furious. The assassin had never seen her actually shake with anger before. He noticed her clenched fists and wondered if he shouldn't have just gone along with Sara's kinky pervert theory.
********************
The dilapidated Pinto wound it's way through the city streets. It's driver and his cohort scanned their surroundings as the vehicle cruised along.
"Do you think the Prime Consul is angry with us?" Brother Nolan asked. He was a bit apprehensive about their current assignment. He'd heard the sect had lost a decent share of its members this evening and the heretics had lost none.
"Why would he be angry with us?" queried Brother Wickel. Unbeknownst to his passenger, the assignment had been given by the Consul's Aide, Magistrate Banol.
"Well, our orders are to scout the very area that our brothers were slain for scouting. Judging by what's been happening, I'd say we would be next," Brother Nolan explained.
"It is a privilege to die for the Sufult," Brother Wickel retorted fervently.
Brother Nolan did not comment. He was aware that as a disciple of the Sufult, zealous devotion was expected. But sometimes he wished he had been raised in a religion that did not regularly demand risking one's life. Perhaps Protestant, they seemed to have it fairly easy. The downside being that Protestants were supposed to respect society in general, rather than undermine it. They were also usually unarmed; he shuddered at the thought. Fingering one of his daggers to soothe himself, he scanned the area. He wouldn't describe it as desolate but it was fairly quiet, save a few cabs driving by and an inebriated man singing loudly.
tbc