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Logic/Lo... i'm sorry, your DEF in the next one. I already wrote you in.
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Wild Flower Eyes

"You!" She stepped backwards again, as a warm fire in his eyes bloomed, a fire she could not touch without being burned, without being broken. She felt her heart hammering in her chest but she dare not let it show.

He had gotten taller, she realized. His hair was no longer slicked back the way he had worn it for so long, and it was a tad bit longer. His face had not lost its youth, though it was drawn, and he was a bit tanner than when she had last seen him. He wore some nice fitting jeans and a jacket against the heat. There was a jagged scar under his left eyebrow and it took every ounce of her resolve not to lift her hand and touch it soothingly. He still wore his red bandana, though he wore it wrapped around one of his belt loops instead. Were the days of cowboys truly over? She thought of that Dixie Chicks song… 'cowboy take me away...' indeed.

"Me? Francis Sullivan, known to all otherwise as Jack Kelly, the infamous? Could it truly be?" He chuckled, and stepped towards her, looking a little confused and not a little hurt when she took two steps back. Through the hurt clouding his vision, the hurt he would not let show on his handsome face, he could see that she was studying him, and how he had changed. Not that she would ever really know the extent of his change. Ever. Lost in his thoughts he hardly noticed her moving backwards towards the exit until the sighing creak of an old floorboard had him looking up, into her mortified face. What was there to escape from? Him?

Spell was trying quite desperately to be quiet; which, she assured herself, could just be mistaken for discreet or polite to a person who before her eyes became lost in his own thoughts. She, of all people, knew the look, the way his deep brown eyes grew hazy, and thick. Too hard to get out from the thick caramel colored eyes, to hard to go further and actually realize what he was thinking. Oh, sure, he put on this cocky little bull-shit attitude. She knew better than to accept that. There was something lying there, beneath the surface, ready to erupt if only given half a chance… she wasn't in the mood to provide such an opening. As she snuck further away, she knew the floorboard was going to creak, loud and long, as she daintily laid her open-toed sandals on them. Shit, shit, shit! He regained awareness, coming to and seeing her there, a lovely girl with the stricken look of a cornered doe, her large eyes betraying the extent of her fear. When he stepped towards her this time, in long strides she could no longer easily out do with her legs-for-days, she stayed in place with an elegant dignity, though she was quaking like thunder on the inside.

He was surprised she didn't move. They stood in the large auditorium, with paneled walls and scratched wooden floors. The chairs were red and velvet. Were they comfortable? He wondered fleetingly. The place was filled with light, and he observed lazily the dust motes that floated by, unaware of the turbulence between this boy and this girl. If dust motes had thoughts, Jack thought, would they wonder about his history with the lovely girl before him? Oftentimes, he found himself doing just that; remembering, and wondering. Noticing her stillness, he observed that she was apparently lost in her own thoughts, and so he made a study of her, figuring he was in the exact right position to do so.

She was tall, as she had always been, but he was still a head taller than she was. Her hair was to the middle of her back, and had gotten quite wavy; she had cut herself some edgy bangs that suited her soft features. Her small, pointed chin was tilted upright, in a hurt dignity sort of gesture, and her aristocratic nose was sprinkled with extremely light freckles that one could only see if they were right next to her. But he didn't have to be that close to know they were there. Green eyes looked up, as if hearing his thoughts, and he noticed their peculiar glimmer, like innocence and seduction, and he felt a blow much like a hammer hit him in the chest. Jesus, what this girl did to his body, his emotions… she gasped softly, noticing the gleam in his eyes, and his gaze rested finally on her mouth. Her lips, always full, were rosy, and she had apparently used some chap stick, for they looked invitingly soft to him. He looked at her hands and noticed they were just barely shaking. He wished he could stop those nervous jitters... then again, that would only work if he wasn't the one who was causing them. Her eyelashes were dark, and thick, and he remembered the times he had studied the way they lay against her cheek, in a striking contrast. He remembered dreaming of kissing those cheeks... that neck... those eyelids...

"Jack," She said it breathlessly, pleadingly, as she began to step away again... A constant contradiction to herself.

That's when he did it. He looked into her eyes and saw the swarm of emotions there and knew that she knew what it was he was thinking. He would have taken a moment to gather himself, to rethink, to remove the lust from his eyes, but she was escaping, and he couldn't let her do that. Instead, he took her hand firmly in his own, drew her against him, and was extremely pleased to note that they still molded together like perfection. He took a minute to catch his breath, and only sank deeper as the scent of sun, wild flowers, and femininity climbed into him. She raised her eyes to look at him.

"Spell." He murmured...he was moving in closer, dear god why was she as well, when the sound of footsteps had her sailing through reality and stepping away from him quickly.

"Well, if it ain't my two friends Spell, and Jack. How ya been?" Blink smiled into their eyes, and Spell was eternally grateful for the interruption. She suspected Ray had somehow known to send him, either that or The Goddess was looking down on her lovingly. She thanked both, just in case. As Blink chatted animatedly away she looked past him to Jack, and found that he was looking at her. She gulped, and closed her eyes, knowing then that this time he wouldn't give up. He wouldn't! But she just couldn't love him… like him... be with him... or anyone ever again.

Wild flowers
Live forever
In your
eyes, of surrender

Kiss me once more
An innocent seduction;
with stealth you may
climb my heart

Drinking this cup of
life
I am locked
by your hands

Only your wildflower
eyes
provide the lock and key
releasing.

Release me...

Reunions and Lemon Sighs

Blink was leading them along, keeping a firm grip on the two, as if he were afraid what they might do if he set them free. He chatted along happily, as if there were no awkwardness between the two, as if he hadn't witnessed a 'moment'.

The bastard.

Spell was mentally suffering from his endless droning and she was squeezing her eyes shut hoping against all hope that telepathy would work and bring some dear, old friend. Damn! If she had just studied that book about Telepathy a little more seriously. Well, she was certainly living with the consequences now.

Dear Mother, if I were to ever ask you something, it would be now. Remember Jack? Yes, well he is unexpectedly walking by my side and causing extreme turmoil within me, and oh dear Goddess oops sorry, well. What I want to know is if you could perhaps just help me out of this little awkward situation I seemed to have gotten myself into-

Silence.

Something was wrong.

Blink wasn't twittering away incessantly in her ear and his tightened grip on her frail arm had loosened. With an odd rush of optimism, Spell opened her eyes and was met by the gazes of two fair pairs of eyes; she knew them well. The first pair of eyes, wide and beautiful in their unique color of blue, were eyeing the whole situation with amusement. The second pair of eyes, the deep green of a forest shadow swirled with the light green of delicate leaves, were giving Blink a cold, hard stare.

"Lucks, Sketch!" Spell rushed forward, wrenching her arm from Blink's grip and throwing her arms around her two lovely friends.

"Heya Spell, we heard you might need some help?" Lucks, or the blue eyed fiend, was giving Jack a meaningful look. He took the hint and backed up, though he scowled at her openly. Lucks shrugged and turned once again to Spell, ignoring the boys and giving her friend a genuinely warm smile. Spell squealed and jumped on her friend, hugging her tightly, greatful for the reunion with her old friends.

"Lucks, what the hell are you doing here, you bitch! I had no idea you were coming!" Spell hugged her friend again, letting her friend know she didn't really think she was a bitch… most of the time. Lucks rolled her eyes and hugged her back, smiling as she did so.

"Always the drama queen. But look at you! God, you look different." Lucks flipped back her short hair to better observe her friend, whom she hadn't seen in over 2 years, since her move.

"Pshaw, I look just the same, but look at YOU!" Spell stepped back and held her friend at arm's length to take it all in. Her once dorky friend had most definitely… evolved. Her honey blonde hair was cut short, framing her pretty face and adoring smile. Her eyes, always large, now fit her face, and still sparkled as if they were laughing at everyone silently. Apparently the move to where was it again? had done good to her, for she had not gotten quite tan she had certainly gotten toned, and she had adopted some pleasant curves, a fact she seemed happy about. Always the drama nerd, she still wore the typical dramatic artist outfit, though it was somewhat downplayed: Black leggings with a hole in the thigh, a Chinese print halter, a black skirt, and chunky earrings. Spell smiled, extremely happy to have her friend back home. She then turned to one of her oldest remaining friends, ready to reunite, when she discovered her friend was a bit buisy having a stand-off with Blink.

They stood in the typical stance, legs spread slightly apart, a deep furrow in their brow, and their hands on their hips or in Blink's case, his pockets; he was afraid of being called a 'metro sexual':shiver:.

Sketchy's usually wild, laughing eyes were now frigid; icy to the touch, and searing whoever dare upset her. At the moment that person seemed to be Blink. It was odd to see them so cold to each other, considering they had been quite a known couple throughout Manhattan for many years. That is, until Blink found himself the true meaning of a drink, and Sketchy found herself Donald. 'Donald, like the duck?' Blink liked to say over a drink at the bar, while his friends pretended to laugh at the joke they'd heard about 1,000 times. As if sensing what she was thinking he cocked his head, his blonde hair tousled and streaked from the sun, and his summer sky eyes seemed to freeze as if just daring to look at her could freeze her insides to ice. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a steady, impassive gaze to let him know he could no longer affect her.

FUCK! She was just as beautiful. He had hoped that he would see her as the truly ugly witch she was or who he had thought she was when she had broken up with him, daring to cry over it when it was him who was hurting. No, she had been the one to just so nonchalantly rip his heart brutally out of his chest, and mail it off to some other corner of the world, so he would no longer be able to heal its scars. Because the memory of the actual event left him feeling vulnerable, he puffed out his chest and snarled at her.

Lucks and Spell stepped forward, but Sketchy saw their movements and silently shook her head no. They stepped back and watched helplessly, knowing their friend must face this alone.

"So... how's Donald," He growled, making it obvious that he was mocking her. She felt a little splinter of ice crawl into her heart and squirm around. Choosing to ignore it, as was the best possible solution, she answered his question with a cool and collected voice.

"Donald," She emphasized his name with a sigh, and watched his eyes go hard. At least, she had thought so for a small instant. "Is… wonderful. Great,we're both AMAZING." It was true, damn it, she just always seemed to doubt it when she was in Blink's overpowering presence, in the gaze of those sharp blue eyes. She remembered the first time she had looked into those eternally summer blue eyes of his, and she had thought, with a quiver in her belly, what is he capable of exactly? And, when she found out, would she like it? Well, she had found out, and for a time, she had liked it. Until now, when he stood looking at her, his animated lively face cold and devoid of kind thoughts. She took in a shaky breath and noticed, for the first time, how awkward this all was. Blink, his face cold, and his grip hard, as he held back his old pal who wouldn't resist anyway because of the lack of pride that would show. Trying to avoid the memories that those eyes of his conjured, she turned to look at Jack and found that he was gazing at Spell, who was carefully avoiding his gaze as she talked with animation to Lucks, who was giving Jack and Blink hard stares that went unnoticed by both of them

"Blink?" Hearing her say his name startled him, and for the briefest of seconds she saw a flood of emotions pass over his face, quickly masked by a hard control that she wanted to kiss- RIP, off his face. Right… not kiss… she had none of those feelings left, absolutely none. He waited for her. He had lived with her, had studied her, learned her both inside and out, enough to know when her thoughts were and weren't finished. The way he was looking at her shook her, and she struggled for the chilled ease she was seeking. "If you would kindly let step out of our path, I belive we'll be on our way," Spell wasn't the only one who could act, she thought to herself, smiling a demeaning smile as he stepped aside abruptly. "Thank you. Lucks? Spell?" She crooked both arms which Spell and Lucks linked to and all three women were off, leaving two pissed off guys behind them.

"...Gah!Women."Blink rubbed a hand over his face, irritated still at his reaction to her. His longing. He had once told her that with her tumbling dark hair, haunting voice, and enchanting eyes, she could be a siren. Little had he known that that was exactly what she was, and his passion for her had ultimately led to his downfall, like all the others before him.

"C'mon, let's go have us a drink," Jack dug out a cigar and lit it casually as he led his friend to the nearest bar.

"Sketch?" Spell asked tentatively, as her friend stormed ahead, leaving her and Lucks behind in her dust. Sketch whirled around, her recently cropped dark hair slapping her cheeks.

"What, Spell! What is it?" Sketch didn't realize she was crying until Spell came gently forward and wiped the tears off of her cheeks. Lucks took one of Sketchy's hands and tried out a smile for her friend. Lucks found them all a bench and sat Sketchy in the middle, trashing men while Sketchy sat there and sniffled.

"I mean, who the fuck do they fucking think they ARE? Jesus, I mean, he's not even that cute okay-"

Sketchy whipped her head up. "Yes. He. Is." She snapped, her eyes blazing with fury. Lucks retreated and Spell pursed her lips.

Sketch sat up and wiped the tears away with the backs of her hands. She could taste the salt on her lips.

"I must look like shit,"Sketchy remarked, smiling a little, apologizing in her own little way for snapping at her friends. Spell smiled back, awkwardly patting her on the back.

"Pretty much," Lucks smiled at her friend, letting her know she accepted, and Sketchy laughed, pleased with herself that she could do so through all those unhappy memories and the shame that they still haunted her.

"God, I mean, this is just great. He goes off, has a couple beers, and smokes a pack of Marlboros, while I sit here, crying on your shoulders, like some..."She gestured wildly and sighed in frustration at the lack of intelligible words in her head. "Like some pathetic nuiscnace still clinging to the past. AH! I always promised myself I wouldn't be that girl..." She itched for a ciggarette, just something to do with her hands, not to mention the fog of smoke that would shut her off from the pitying glances of passersby. They'd still be there, she just wouldn't have to see it. Have to deal with it. She looked over at her friends, who were both smiling in that rarely patient way only shown when the need was called for. "Awe, Spell, look at you. You've grown up so much," She bit her lip, her eyes swimming in tears as she remembered the two little girls who had jumped through the sprinklers together and let the sun touch their faces with such care-free innocence. "GODDAMNIT! I never cry this much, you know that, guys" Indeed, they did know.

"Nope, that's always been my job," Spell piped up, and they all three laughed. Then, as the moment began to fade, they sat there knowing that the need for words didn't touch them in this quiet state of observation and rememberance. Spell lifted her face to the sun so it would drench her face in light. Lucks sighed breathlessly and tasted the sting on her tongue. Lemons, if she had been asked the taste, she would have said with a slight smile that it tasted like lemons.

"Gotta light?" Sketchy asked, fiddling with her lighter.

"You hate smoke," Spell knit her brows together, cocking her head.

"I still do," Sketchy rubbed her temples, the sun too bright all the sudden.

Too fucking cheerful.

"Sketch, how bout somethin' to eat, and a place to eat it?" Lucks stood up, suddenly the caring friend, and she offered a small hand.

Sketchy felt somewhat relieved she didn't have to take care of what to do at the moment. She felt grateful just to lean on her two friends and nod, letting herself be led to that heinous contraption that her friend considered a 'real goddamn beauty'. She chuckled, and then she closed her eyes. In the semi-retreat behind her eyelids she relished in their secrets, and in the questions that all three girls couldn't bear to ask just yet…

Ah, hope you guys liked it; More Characters in the next chappie; I'm on a roll!