Kinsley x Julian - Nethilor Prison

Julian watched her every move, his eyes working like a heat seeking missile that was trained on its target. He didn't miss the way she was inching her way up the bed, subtly claiming it before his eyes. His eyebrows quirked upwards as she adamantly insisted that he wouldn't dare leave her. Unfortunately for her, she was wrong about that. He could be incredibly detached, and she truly had no idea what was going on in his mind at any given moment. That fact was what gave him confidence every day.

In contrast to his new friend, Julian was an introvert. Of course, that didn't mean he was shy, exactly. In fact, Julian loved to meet interesting people and to hear himself talk; he would go for hours on end if given the chance. The true power of the introvert lies in their independence. He worked best alone, focusing deeply on his own methods rather than relying on others to get the job done. He had privacy in the sacred realm that was his mind, and Kinsley would always be kept guessing as far as he was concerned. When you are your own best ally, every one else was a liability.

Julian shifted to make himself comfortable as she prepared to give what was bound to be a long winded plea. However, he didn't expect her to take so many jabs at him right off the bat, and his frown deepened as she revealed her less than positive impression of him. It wasn't the first time he'd been called creepy, and he was sure it wasn't going to be the last. He was self aware enough to understand why, and yet it was still insulting. Of course, his ego was easily able to twist most of her words into compliments. Yes, people remembered him. How could they not? People often whispered about him behind his back, and he reveled in the misguided attention. If they were afraid of him- good. They should be.

Ultimately, Kinsley made some good points. He needed someone loud and obnoxious to draw the attention away from his off-beat mannerisms. Acting as a couple was a good cover- especially if they wanted to be seen in public, which he fully intended on doing. They could keep each other in check, watch each others backs...At least until they both inevitably got carried away and committed more heinous acts. The real problem was that they were both impulsive, violent criminals, and that was hard to conceal.

"Creepy..." he scoffed to himself, standing up. He yanked the bed sheets back hard enough to disturb her before slipping into bed. He made no move to remove her and kept distance between them, laying flat on his back to stare up at the ceiling. "Interesting that you don't think you stand out just as much as I do. We have to be careful, or else we'll end up becoming a double dose of creepy," he pointed out. As subtle as it was, his words were somewhat of a confirmation that he was convinced of keeping her around- for now. "And just to be clear, you don't have to be a woman to manipulate men. Or seduce them."

Where Kinsley felt discomfort, Julian found peace in the silence. The day's events were finally catching up to him and he felt absolutely spent. Sleeping in a real bed for the first time in years coaxed him toward the sweet embrace of sleep, but it seemed Kinsley had other plans for the night. His eyes had just settled closed when the jerk of the sheets caused them to snap back open. He glared at the ceiling as she complained, rolling his eyes so hard that the motion could have been audible. She couldn't be serious.

Julian let out a heavy noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and an irritated growl. He allowed another stretch of silence to pass between them, giving time for her insecurity to root itself and grow. When he finally shifted, he gripped the sheets and yanked them forcefully enough to pull her onto her back. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up beside her with one arm and stared down at her, giving her no other option than to look up at him. For good measure, his swung one of his legs over hers, locking her in place before she had the opportunity to retaliate.

"The bed's not enough?" he jeered, shaking his head at her. Women were impossible to please, but Kinsley was on another level. He'd allowed her into the bed with no further argument, and he'd given her what he assumed to be a respectful distance. And yet, she wanted something entirely different. He wasn't a fucking mind reader, and her desires were simply not of his utmost concern at the present moment.

"Who are you to tell me whether or not I'm interested?" he challenged quietly, reaching up toward her face with his free hand. His fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw before dipping lower where his thumb followed the uneven ridge of her throat, his eyes studying her features carefully up close. She was undeniably his type, right down to the shape of her lips and the flecks of color in her eyes. He was suspicious of this very fact, and left to wonder why fate had placed this woman in the cell beside him. He could feel her heartbeat fluctuating beneath the tips of his fingers, and his quickly fell in sync to match the rhythm.

"You call me a creep and then expect me to cuddle with you?" he drawled, the ridiculousness of the notion making his lips twitch. Even if he was the touchy feely type, she hadn't exactly made it known that she wanted him anywhere near her. "You can tell me what you want, Kinsley," he urged her, "But don't attempt to guess at what's going on in my head. You won't win that battle," he promised.

Julian knew exactly what look she was referring to. He'd caught a glimpse of the expression in his own eyes once. The memory itself was hazy, but he could never forget the first time he watched someone die. His grandfather had experienced an agonizing heart attack, dropping dead in front of the entire family. While his parents flew into a panic, young Julian became entranced by the pain and fear emanating from the old man. Of course, he hadn't committed the act, but rather watched in utter fascination. Eventually, he met the eyes of his own reflection in the elegant mirror on the far wall of the dining room and experienced a moment of clarity. It was the most potent emotion that he had ever hoped of experiencing; a concoction of true passion and morbid curiosity. He had discovered something that made him feel alive, and there was no going back.

When it came to Kinsley, though, a whole new aspect was added into the mix. The act became salacious. After committing the obscene slaughtering to memory, he had tucked it away where he stored all of his inappropriate fantasies. Conforming to society had been a part of the game and he truly enjoyed being the wolf in sheep's clothing. But now that Kinsley was involved and he was free from prison, he felt like the desires were being amplified tenfold.

Despite the understanding that undoubtedly flashed through his eyes, Julian considered denying her observation. Admitting that she was right was giving her a tiny drop of leverage, and he was dead set on hoarding all the power for as long as possible. Eventually, he allowed an absolutely shit eating grin to pass over his features.

"I want that, too," he murmured honestly, his fingers stopping at the hollow of her neck, "Good luck," he added slyly, framing it as a challenge. He would view it as yet another service she could provide to him, but she would have to be careful. Julian didn't appreciate sloppiness. The rational side of his brain insisted that pleasure had to come second to freedom. Unfortunately, that segment of his anatomy was also considerably small compared to the rest of his deranged mind.

Disentangling himself from Kinsley, he rolled onto his back, but remained at her side. Her skin was smooth as silk and he decided he wouldn't mind feeling it brush against him throughout the night. It was a little unsettling for him as someone who despised unnecessary touching, but her little massage in the bath had left him curious, and he left the option open as to how she wanted to sleep. "We leave in the morning," he informed her vaguely, giving no hint at where they would be going or how they planned on getting there. He would handle everything, and she would have no choice but to follow.

Julian required only five hours of sleep to be rested and high functioning the next day. He'd determined this by meticulously tracking the amount of time he slept, right down to the minute, on a regular basis. He'd ended up drifting off to sleep not long after he heard Kinsley's quiet 'goodnight', and slept soundly for the next five hours until he awakened like clock work. Immediately, he sensed Kinsley's absence and extended a hand out to her side of the bed, curling his fingers into the sheets. The fabric was still warm, indicating that she had not been gone for long.

After stretching his limbs out on the bed, he nimbly dropped onto his hands on the bedroom floor and completed three perfect push ups before he officially stood up. He didn't seem to be in any rush to find his companion, mostly because he was not a friendly morning person. He preferred to use the sunrise to center himself before he dealt with others. He moved silently through the house, peering into the bathroom from an angle in order to spot Kinsley propped up on the toilet. She looked to be in severe pain, which was not a surprise. He'd already been planning on dealing with her little issue first thing. There was no time to waste.

Pushing his way out the front door, he scanned the yard for any signs of intruders, noticing that the smoke from their little pyre had disappeared over night. It seemed they had gotten lucky and no one was on their tail at the moment. He meandered across the yard toward a pile of tree branches that were sure to be used for either firewood or for carving another one of their creepy figurines. He sorted through the options and eventually found two branches of suitable length, where the limbs forked out at the end. Julian took his time breaking them down and shaping them correctly until he was able to produce two makeshift crutches. He tested them out across the front of the house and, although they were a tad to short for him, they would be perfectly suited to Kinsley.

Reentering the house, he allowed the front door to bang shut, alerting Kinsley to his presence. He took a moment to rummage through the kitchen, finding some bread left in the cupboard. He broke a piece off and chewed on it as he sorted through the drawers for any useful supplies. The tiny taste of food left him feeling ravenous and he knew it was time to get moving and find some sort of civilization that they would be safe in.

He gathered the crutches under one arm and made his way into the bathroom, where he stopped in front of her and thumped the ends of the crutches onto the ground to get her attention. "Morning," he greeted, giving her a strange once over. She didn't look right; she hadn't slept enough and she was suffering. It was enough to make him twitch with annoyance and he dropped his gaze toward her foot to get a good look at the damage. It seemed this was going to be a bigger set back than he'd imagined- one he didn't have time for.

"You should have been elevating it," he criticized, "Do I have to tell you to do everything?" he belittled, lashing out at her as a result of his frustrations. He didn't expect an answer, because he'd already made up his mind in that instant that he was going to start micromanaging her to prevent her from slowing them down. "Try these," he instructed, offering up his little morning project.

It didn't take long for Julian to realize he was underestimating the severity of her injury. He didn't yet bother to look at her foot carefully enough to notice the intricacies of the damage, but the look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He'd been acquainted with Kinsley long enough to determine that she wasn't overreacting. It would take something incredibly devastating for her to give up on their little journey- and she looked like she'd given up.

His gaze finally dropped to her foot and a tsunami of anger crashed into him all at once. The sight of the grotesquely swollen extremity was the epitome of everything he hated. Kinsley was damaged beyond either of their control, and it marred every aspects of her that he'd grown to like. Her beauty, her tenacity, her ability- all squandered by a bad landing. It would be a miracle to find someone to heal her foot, let alone the odds of that person succeeding. In other words, Kinsley was fucked, and- by association- so was he. It was jarring to consider himself attached to someone in any way, which only served to fuel his burning frustration.

"This is what you get for jumping recklessly into a raging sewage pipe," he snapped at her, offering zero sympathy or words of encouragement. It could have been him, after she pushed him unsuspectingly into the water. For some reason, he'd been spared and Kinsley was the one that would bear the consequences. And yet, for some reason, he still felt involved. The circumstances didn't just ruin his plans- they ruined their plans. He'd been ready to accept their partnership for what it was, but now that was no longer an option. "It's what you deserve," he scorned.

Kneeling suddenly, he forced himself to look more closely at her almost unrecognizable foot. It had changed drastically overnight, which told him that it wouldn't take long for the injury to quickly worsen. But was it life threatening? He glanced up at Kinsley and used the end of one of the makeshift crutches to lightly nudge the side of her foot, gauging her reaction, "Did you feel that?" he questioned. If she felt pain, that was a good thing and there was a chance she would recover. If not, then it was time for him to re plan his next steps. There was only one thing he knew for sure: he would not be returning to prison.

Julian observed her reaction and felt acceptance settle in his gut like a rock. He wasn't known for sugar coating things or looking on the bright side, and this was no exception. The way he saw it, Kinsley's options were few and far between, and a sense of defeat had already settled over the room, as though Kinsley had given up and resigned herself to some pathetic fate. He felt the anger slowly seep out of him, replaced by a sense of apathy as he stared blankly down at his once potential partner in crime. It was apparent that somethings were too good to be true, and it was time for Julian to move on.

A frown contorted his face in response to Kinsley's request and he felt disgust stir in him again. He wanted to remain unfeeling, but seeing her slumped against the toilet bothered him more than he would ever admit. Leaning over her, he pulled her up by the arms and awkwardly hoisted her body over his shoulder, pausing only to steady himself before he carried her toward the bedroom. She felt like dead weight, and the irony was not lost on him. Struggling into the bedroom, he deposited her into the center of the bed and took the time to prop her mangled foot up onto a pillow. Although he was gentle, he didn't appear concerned over the pain she was going through, and remained focused on what needed to be done.

Once Kinsley was settled on the bed, he disappeared from the room and returned moments later carrying the bottle of moonshine from the previous night. This was one of those rare occasions that he saw the value in drinking yourself to oblivion. He propped the bottle up beside Kinsley on the mattress before taking a step back to observe her like she was already an empty vessel. As usual, his mind was already five steps ahead, calculating the next steps that he would be taking alone.

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but the words got lost somewhere along the way and he faltered. His jaw immediately tensed in frustration and he remained uncharacteristically silent. He felt personally victimized by the circumstances and he needed to remove himself from the scene before his anxiety sent him spiraling. He couldn't afford to go down that path when his freedom was at stake. Wordlessly, Julian began to rummage through the bedroom, retrieving some fresh clothes and stuffing them into a bag. He'd already gathered supplies out in the living room, as the plan all along had been to set out that morning.

Once he'd gathered what he needed, Julian shrugged on a jacket and paused at the end of the bed to regard her with indifference, "I'm leaving," he pointed out the obvious, swinging the bag over his shoulder with finality. His eyes locked on to her foot one more time, and he genuinely wondered if she was capable of pulling through despite all the odds stacked against her. "Death isn't something to be afraid of," he told her ominously. They'd taken lives before, and now it was time to see if Kinsley was able to hold on to her own. Some strange, foreign part of him hoped she would.

Whatever Kinsley's fate ended up being, Julian didn't plan on being around to watch it, and he glanced toward the door as if he couldn't stand another second being there, "Need anything else?" he prompted rigidly. Even though he was desperate to leave her behind and never look back, he was having trouble tearing himself away. Internal conflict wasn't something he was familiar with. Usually, he was clear minded and every part of him worked in unison. Now, he felt like he was being torn in half, and Kinsley had manifested something within him that had never existed before.

Julian immediately felt defensive as she begged him to stay, and he fixed her with an indignant glare. He didn't care how much pain she was in or how disoriented she was from the amount of alcohol she'd just consumed- he just hated the very idea that he was responsible for her in any way. Hearing her imply that he should be going out of his way to accommodate her seemed to trigger him beyond reason.

"Enough," he snapped, aiming to silence her, "Whatever connection you think we have doesn't exist. You are a liability, and I am not responsible for you." His words were cold and detached, as though their time together had meant nothing at all to him. It would be easy to convince himself of this as soon as he was able to walk away and forget about Kinsley altogether. In that moment, however, it was difficult to imagine erasing Kinsley from his plans. His eyes narrowed as she tipped back the empty bottle, "I owe you nothing," he reminded her. She was the one who owed him everything.

His gaze strayed toward the window, where sunlight had begun to flood into the room. Mid morning was already rapidly approaching and he wanted to be gone by now. His grip tightened on the bag and he gave her one last lingering stare, "Good luck, Kinsley." If she happened to pull through by some miracle, he didn't plan on finding out. Once he moved on, there was no point in looking back. His plan was to disappear.

Julian made his way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him with a final thud. Gathering the rest of the supplies, he stepped out the front door and bee lined for the edge of the property. He paused only once before the cabin disappeared from view, unable to resist the urge to cast a final glance back at Kinsley's potential coffin. With a shake of his head, he set out down the path that led away from the house, berating himself the entire way for almost getting attached to the girl who'd weaseled her way into his life in such a short period of time.

As he traveled down the path at a brisk pace, he expected the distance to free his mind of Kinsley, but it appeared to be quite the opposite. He was still angry at her and the lack of closure, and was left to wonder what would become of her. She could be recaptured, or killed, or kill herself, or die a slow death. She could even pull through, save herself, or be saved by someone else. The last thought made him halt in his tracks in the middle of the uninhabited forest trail. The idea of someone else coming to her rescue made him fume with resentment. The odds were so slim, and yet it was the one thing he found himself caught up on.

Still, it wasn't enough to make him turn back. He forced himself onward and traveled for what felt like a couple of hours until the afternoon sun was beating down upon him. It was then that he noticed signs of civilization in the distance, and he veered off the main trail before approaching what appeared to be a small settlement at the edge of a river. There were only a few structures and a smattering of people that appeared to be passing through, and Julian tugged the hood of his jacket over his head, deciding he needed to stop and think before he continued his journey. He entered the small town and seemed to go relatively unnoticed as he found a quiet wall to lean up against outside of a butcher's shop. The smell of smoked meat permeated the air and his stomach growled as he considered showing his face to the civilians.

As he pondered the task, he recalled how Kinsley had described her talents the night before. He studied the butcher- a rather repulsive and sweaty man- and imagined challenging Kinsley to score them some free food. It seemed impossible to force the girl from his mind, and so he focused on the rhythmic chopping as the butcher hacked away at the thick cuts of meat with a cleaver. The crack of bone caught his attention, along with the way the tool seemed to slice right through the slaughtered creatures without much effort. Thud, thud, thud. As the man chopped through the flesh, a new idea began to form in Julian's mind.