[Maija] It’s almost 3am, and she can’t sleep. Thus, the too thin streetrat is curled up on the couch, a blanket over her legs, pale and small and easily missable in the flickering light of the near silent television set. She’s only halfway paying attention, letting her attention wander, doing her best to relax, to calm, to be able to go to sleep sometime soon.
She sighs, and there’s movement – that of a bottle brought to her lips, the falling to rest again on the arm of the couch.
[Wahya] A crash erupts from the bathroom, like the loud wet slap of a body hitting the unpolished tiles, it shakes the floor of the apartment, would have disturbed the neighbors if they had any… but she can feel the small rupture.
The door to the bathroom swings open part way, followed by the sound of running water. The faucets creak with a rusty shriek as they are forced to turn on. It isn’t long before mists of steam float up into the air through the open door.
[Maija] There’s a crash, and she jumps – her head whipping to the side as her body is already in movement, standing with the blanket clutched to her chest, her eyes already searching for a way out… There’s the sound of running water, mists of steam, and her breathing is still shaky, her heart thudding against her chest, her eyes wide…
“…Wahya?”
Hoping. Even as she inches toward the baseball bat leaning in the corner.
[Wahya] All she can hear is the loud gargled grunts sound out of his throat, echoing through out the bathroom. Clothes are shuck off as quickly as possibly, Wahya climbing into the tub of hot water with a loud groan.
She can hear the splashing of water as he moves around, leaning down so his head near between bent knees, the matted mane of braids falling across his face.
“In here,” he calls out.
[Maija] She closes her eyes, briefly. And takes a deep breath. “Why ain’t ya use the door like everyone else?”
She wraps her blanket around her, and pushes the door open a bit to see what kind of mess he’s making this time. She leans a skinny shoulder on the edge of the doorframe, and watches him a long moment. “Ya alright?”
[Wahya] His clothes lay in scattered heaps all over the bathroom; water had sloshed over the edge of the tub, forming a puddle at the base and ran across the floor to soak up into his shirt and jeans. One boot was tossed at the door, another hangs precariously on the edge of the toilet seat, threatening to fall in.
The mirror to the medicine cabinet hangs halfway open, exposing the cheap plastic shelving that housed her personal things. His head lifts up briefly, peering up over his arm to look at her through sopping wet braids.
His back is to her, she’ll take note of the red and white discoloration of his skin that had begun to pucker up like insect bites and started to form rash like hives.
“Fine,” he grunts, leaning back until his head hits the porcelain edge of the tub and sinks under the water, wincing as the hot water presses against the raised skin. Bubbles churn up where his head had gone down, he comes up sputtering. “Caught by spiders coming in.” a hand flops out to point at the mirror
[Maija] She looks at the mess, and a muscle twitches in her jaw, teeth clench lightly, and then she unwraps the blanket from around her, and tosses it behind her, then moves in to rescue the shoe from it’s pending death, and gather his clothing to put it in the basket in the corner. She grabs a handful of towels – making sure that there is still one for him to dry off with, and goes about sopping up the water, flicking closed the cabinet as she moves by.
“Again – why ain’t ya use a door like everyone else? I gave ya a key…”
She looks at the welts, and the rash, and glances up at him. “Ya gonna need some lotion or somethin for that?”
[Wahya] “Door?” he questions her, sinking back down into the water until it covers his mouth and part of his nose. He watches her over the rim of the tub, lifting an eyebrow at her.
“Soaking should work… get rid of sting,” he blinks at her, “Maija mad?”
[Maija] “yeah, th’door! Like a…”
She almost said human being. She stops, crouched by the tub and looks up at him, taking a long slow breath. “Nah, I ain’t mad. S’just if it hurts ya t’come in through th’mirror, then come in from th’door, on this side, instead of…” gestures vaguely, having no idea what it is, what its like, anything of it. “ya know. Save m’floor from gettin a soaking everytime you pop in.”
A pause, and she reaches over and pulls a braid from in front of his eyes, and smooths it back, absently, not giving herself time to think about it before she does it.
[Wahya] “Floor not get soak when pop in from other side. Floor get wet when flop into tub,” he corrects her. His eyes begin to grow wide, their normal hooded expression disappearing. He blows tiny bubbles with his mouth and nose as he watched her pull a wet braid out of his eyes.
He tilts his head to the side, “Could have left for Wahya to clean up. Look tired.” He slowly rises up out of the hot water, steam rising off his skin in tiny tendrils of smoke. One of his hands stretches out to touch her arm, long brown fingers lacing around her upper bicep to playfully tug her closer.
[Maija] She lets a little smile – the slightest lift at the corner of her lips, linger at the first. “I stand corrected.”
He reaches to touch her and she falls still, completely still as his fingers find his arm. He tugs at her, playfully, and she resists, just a brief moment, just slightly, but then lets him pull her closer. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe something else. She doesn’t stop to define it, she just lets him pull her in.
She looks tired. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”
[Wahya] He is met with a slight resistance at first, gently coaxing until Maija gives in and just goes with it. The water churns and sloshes about in the tub as he sits up straight. The moment she is at the edge of the tub, he leans up and over, wrapping his other arm around her thin waist and drags Maija down into the warm water with him, settling back down.
[Maija] Her eyes widen and she yelps lightly as he wraps his arm around her waist and drags her into the water with him. She wouldn’t be able to resist anyway at that point, off balance and captured, the water sliding over her skin, soaking her boxers and the thin material of her tank top, her thin form settling against him even as she protests. “WAHYA! Wha….”
And then she does something she so rarely does, even here, even in the apartment away from prying eyes, away from the Nation and those that have hurt her so badly…
..she laughs.
Briefly, short and sweet, but it’s definitely a laugh. “I already done took a damn shower today…”
[Wahya] This close in the tub she’ll notice his evident lack of clothing, especially when he holds her in his lap. The one arm still coiled around her stomach to keep her against his chest. He was nothing but wiry lean muscle and bone under that bronzed skin of his, legs and arms seemed long for his short torso, making up much of his height.
He says nothing, dipping down into the water until only the upper portion of his face rides the surface of the water, quietly blowing bubbles as he breathes out. His head bobs up, flashing a wide grin at her. “Maija too tense, hot bath good for her, help ease tiredness.”
[Maija] The clothing she wears – granted, not much – clings to her skin, as she’s held against his chest and settles back into the water. Thin fingers curl around the side of the tub a moment, before she just gives in to the inevitable and does her best to relax against him.
“And what do ya know about bein’ tense? Wahya’s always relaxed, easy breezy.” She’s almost jealous of that, to tell the truth. Even when he doesn’t understand something, he’s still so accepting and relaxed and so… sure of himself. What he doesn’t like – he simply ignores.
A quiet moment, then.. “ya coulda let me take m’clothes off first.”
[Wahya] She isn’t quite sure he is paying attention to what she is saying, if so he is a quiet listener. Wahya seems more interested in the female sitting with him than talking. He grunts at her comment about taking off clothes and says nothing to it.
She feel his head next to hers, rest his chin on her shoulder. He cups warm water with his left hand, running it over her left arm, he does this for a few minutes until he grows bored and then runs wet fingers down the length of that arm to take her hand in his, interlocking their fingers as holds up their hands to study the contrast in skin pigment and how different they were.
“What make Maija say things like that?” He asks, breathing against her ear, “Have tense moments all the time. When deal with spirits, Stella, fighting, other scab wolves.” He lets out a small chuckle, “Wolf does not dwell on past, only present, see no point in it. Things that happen in past are done, gone, no reason to reflect; best to move on and live life.”
He lets go of her hand and pokes her in the stomach, “Maija dwell too much on past, on bad things. Cannot let go, live in fear.”
[Maija] He plays with the water of her arm, his chin on her shoulder, and she finds herself slowly giving in, completely relaxing against him with a soft sigh. Even he rarely sees her like this, not even while she sleeps, while nightmares plague her mind, her restlessness often not stopped until he literally presses his weight against her legs to keep them from moving restlessly and disturbing his sleep too.
Her eyes close, until he slides his fingers between hers, and holds up their hands to study the contrasts, the differences, the similarities – the oddness that even in warm water, her fingers are slightly chilled, getting cold again almost instantly as the water drips from thier hands. She watches this through lidded gaze, and then closes her eyes again, feeling that chuckle through his chest, his breath against her ear.
“Maija ain’t a wolf. Maija’s a girl.” She doesn’t realize when she falls into talking the way he does, often in third person. She grunts as he pokes her in the stomach, and lets her hand fall into the water. “I ain’t mean to. It ain’t so easy to forget. He could still c…”
She starts to tense at just the thought, then pushes it away again. She lets her hand fall to his on her belly, and winds her fingers in his once more. “Ya make it sound so easy.”
[Wahya] She can feel his head shake next to hers, the water sloshing as his long braids shower drops of water everywhere. His lips purse together in thought, the thumb and last three fingers of his left hand curled inward, lightly poking her stomach with his index finger. He stops, bringing that hand up out of the water and to his head.
He pushes the wet braids out of his face, lifting it up so it hung off the edge of the tub, his breath comes out in a loud snort. “Maija make things difficult,” he says flatly, tilting his face to get a better look at her.
“Maija make it hard; think things will come to get her still. Can’t live in fear will die of breaking heart before old enough to pop out pups.”
[Maija] She starts to retort, starts to say something, but hesitates a moment to put it in order in her head first. She shifts slightly in his lap, as he turns to look at her. She feels horribly exposed for a second, if he sees something more in her than she wants to have anyone see, even if she’s unsure what it is.
“Ain’t…” she stops again, and then tries once more. “Things ya learned when ya was little..” she doesn’t say pup – becuase that’s, you know, weird. “Ya still know them – they’re hard to forget right? Its the same way with me.. I was taught to fear way early – and it takes a conscious effort to let anyone… ya know.”
She gestures absently, and then just shakes her had. He doesn’t know – no one really does. “Ain’t no one want me t’have their pups anyway. Ain’t even sure I’d want to have any.”
[Wahya] “Signs of weakness.” He says in a nonchalant tone of voice, the gravelly-pitch low as he sounds out his words and speaks of himself always in third person. “Two-legs are good at adapting to change, must change to survive… How Maija survive if always live in way she does now?”
He shakes his head at her, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, it seems like he’s being crass with her. “Should Wahya put Maija down to save herself from more misery?”
The expression on his face when he looks at her is one of the utmost seriousness. He doesn’t look like he is joking, Wahya watches for her reaction to what he just said. “Maija will have pups, is way of things, Maija duty.”
[Maija] “I ain’t weak!” She pulls away from him, and sits up, turning her face away so that he doesn’t see the reaction that she can’t keep from her face, the flash of anger, the flash of pain.
Then he asks if he should put her down, and the tension creeps back through her shoulders, up her spine, a tremor working it’s way through her as he says it so seriously, so matter of factly. should he put her down, save her from herself. “Ain’t able t’have nuthin if ya put me down, am I. Sides what the nation ever done for me that I should be all jumpin to do my ‘duty’?
[Wahya] “If Maija ain’t weak than act like it,” he growls out at her. She was starting to become insufferable, acting in such a way that he has seen two-legs do that begins to confuse him. He doesn’t understand why they must make things so complicated.
Wahya cannot see her facial expressions; she manages to hide this from him by turning away. He shakes his head, setting his hands on either side of the tub. She’ll feel his legs slide out from underneath her, pulling up to his chest until he’s gathered his balance and shoves himself up out of the water.
Wahya steps out of the tub, leaving Maija there, grasping a dry towel, he twists it around his hips to cover himself and then hunts down another one for his hair. “What does Maija want him to do? Can’t create magic enchantment and dance around bonfire in living room to make stuff go away…”
[Maija] Your weak, worthless, i’ll beat the change into you if I have too! Your a pathetic waste of flesh, your tears are nothing, you are nothing.
He pulls his legs from under her, stands and steps from the tub, and she closes her eyes, briefly, and takes a long shuddering breath before she pulls the plug and lets the water drain, and stands herself. She peels from her wet clothing, and tosses them on the pile in the basket, before she steps from the tub and grabs a towel and wraps it around herself. Her back is ramrod straight, she’s holding herself together by an fast unraveling thread…
She uses the corner to dry her face, which is wet again moments later, as the tears in her eyes spill despite the effort she makes not to let them. When she finally speaks, she lifts her eyes to his, briefly, before dropping her gaze. again. “Nuthin. Ya ain’t gotta do nuthin ya ain’t wanna.”
[Wahya] His mouth drops open, gawking at her as she starts to cry into the towel. He can’t tell which is bath water and what leaks from her eyes. He lets out a sigh, opening up the door to allow the rest of the steam to escape the bathroom so it was no longer humid.
“Do not understand you.” He says quietly, and begins to exit the bathroom to go find his clothes. The next time she sees him on her way out of the bathroom; he is wearing his wolf-skin, curling up on the foot of her bed and lays his head down on his paws eyes closing.
[Maija] He doesn’t understand her, he says, and walks away. She just watches him until he’s through the door in her (..their..) room and she scrubs her hands over her face as she cusses under her breath, slightly.
She finally follows, and pulls a pair of sweats from the drawer and puts them on, followed by a tank top. She takes a pillow, and moves toward the couch again, pausing at the door. “I ain’t know how to put inta words Wahya would understand, what they done t’me. But I ain’t weak. If I was? I’d be dead already, an’ Wahya wouldn’t have nothin’ to worry about at all. I ain’t deserve what they done t’me. And I ain’t deserve t’be judged for th’way it still scares me.”
It takes the last of her resolve to even voice the words, then she simply moves back to the couch, and curls up under her blanket there, once more, her head dropping to her pillow as she gazes unseeing at the tv.
There won’t be any sleep tonight.