Hushed Willows that's nice, that's a nice sentiment

@Buchanan - if you have the time (:

Sleep just wouldn't come to her tonight.  Everyone else snoozed easily, but Banner had been laying in her spot among her packmates listening to crickets.  She'd long since given up on actually dozing and hadn't even bothered to pretend that she was anything other than wide awake.  Quietly sighing, the short female stood and slunk away from the sleeping forms of Stark and Tambourine.

It seemed to her that this summer had been one of endless heat.  Through all their drama, Marauder's Keep was still kicking, which was entirely due to Stark's tireless work.  Banner gave her brother one last look before stepping outside.  The Crook did a great job of preserving milder temperatures for a comfortable night's sleep.  Tonight it wasn't enough, though.  A few bats squealed while she trotted away from their shared sleeping space but the Beta paid them little mind.  The creatures were busy eating mosquitoes or whatever it was they did when the sun went down and they never seemed to bother the wolves of the willows.

Strange how patrolling the borders had already become a routine for her.  She found comfort in the familiar action and perhaps that was why she automatically headed to the outskirts of the Keep and began a methodical inspection what had been recently refreshed by her brother.  Banner moved along at a slow pace - she didn't expect to find anything out of the ordinary at this hour, but she'd found no use in laying among her packmates while she could be doing something.  Even if it made no sense when the moon was high in the sky and no threats were about.

Ah, well, duty was duty.

i always have time for buchanan & banner! <3!

 

Sleeping in a communal place was still a very unusual thing for Buchanan who was used to sleeping on his lonesome. Never too far away from The Officer that he wasn't within striking distance of any reckless enough to attack the elder but never too close. Not that, mind, Buchanan wanted to be all that close to The Officer. Buchanan had not needed comfort of presence through the night since he was a child and that was a habit that The Officer had quickly and painfully broke him of. He tried, at least. Each night he entered The Crook of the few wolves he knew and the others strangers, fidgeted and silently fussed, trying not to disturb his pack mates before he gave up, rose and ventured outside to sleep among the stars. That was what he knew, what he drew comfort in: the open sky. Then again, that was all Buchanan had, had after The Officer had lured him away from ...his parents he presumed. The truth was simple though: he did not remember the life he had prior to The Officer, as if it hadn't existed at all.

Never a heavy sleeper, Buchanan stirred awake at the sound of footfalls, ears erect atop his skull as he was instantly thrown into a groggy alertness. He rose, albeit with a yawn and intended only to investigate the scent trail to ensure himself that it wasn't an intruder. He recognized Banner's scent leaving The Crook, and for a moment he hesitated wondering if she sought the solace of being alone; but in the end decided to follow it. If Banner wished to be alone then he wouldn't push, and he'd respect her wishes but there was something unsettled about her patrolling the borders — for that was the direction that her scent had led him allowing him to come to the conclusion — during the cover of night by her lonesome.

He found her, easily recognized even among the shadows the dark, by scent but also by her eyes. The assassin gave a soft chuff to announce his presence, not wishing to startle her. “Mind some company, Banner?” Buchanan asked her, offering her a soft smile, though he kept distance, body low in submission, allowing her to decide if he stayed or if he left. Given her recent promotion, he wasn't sure if he should even address her so informally but he was unsure due to his honest lack of experience in being a genuine part of a pack and figured that if it was informal of him she would correct him.

This routine, comforting as it was, allowed her to drift mentally.  Just a little - just enough.  Banner moved along quietly, pausing to sniff here and there, while she walked the outskirts of Marauder's Keep.  Aside from fairly consistent cricketsong, the night had only been punctuated by bat cries so far.  No dangers were lurking about ready to steal their children and magically rot their caches and thus, there was no reason for her to be on guard.  Aside from the usual reasons, anyway.  Sniff here, move over there, scan the area, keep going.  It was routine, peaceful, and a perfectly lovely way to spend a lonely night.

But apparently she wasn't alone.

Banner started, her spine growing stiff at the unexpected chuff closeby.  The breath she'd sharply inhaled filled her lungs and didn't release until her wild gaze settled on Buchanan.  It came out in an unbecoming hiss and her eyelids fluttered as rapidly as her heart in an effort to calm herself.  Dramatic overreactions weren't usually her thing, but everyone else had been asleep!  Or so she thought.  Oh, she began in a breathy voice, .. sorry.  The fact that she'd apologized to him for being startled escaped her notice.

Um, no.  I'd.. I'd love some company, she finally answered.  The short female ducked her head a bit in appreciation of his submission, though she had to admit it felt a little strange.  Banner was a tiny thing next to Buchanan.  I was just doing some late night.. er.. patrolling?  Why did she feel the need to explain herself?  It was probably quite obvious to her silvery-eyed companion what she'd been up to.  Offering him a weak smile, she turned to continue on in the direction she'd been going.

Buchanan hadn't meant to startle her and when it was apparent that he had — displayed by the tension in her shoulders, her wild gaze as it settled upon him, and the hiss of breath she released when she realized it was him — his ears slicked back to rest against his crown, his steps faltering at the contemplation that his presence was unwelcome. She had not greeted him with aggression or hostility but he had came to expect such after years with The Officer. “No, no,” The assassin corrected her with a shake of his head and a tentative step towards her. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She responded that she would love company and his docked tail gave a few wags, his ears slowly rising from his skull as he moved closer with more confidence, though he remained hyper-vigilant to her reaction to his proximity, ready to back off if it appeared unwelcome in any capacity. “Which reminds me,” Buchanan breathed with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he joined her patrol. “Congrats on becoming Beta. I think that calls for celebratory, extra special bird feathers.” He informed her with gusto. Something exotic. Exquisitely pretty, with a multitude of stunning colors. A songbird, perhaps. “pevchaya ptitsa,” Buchanan murmured to himself in affirmation, unaware that he'd said it out loud (or that he slipped into his native tongue), as he contemplated the songbirds he'd seen thus far in Teekon Wilds and which one would be the best to present her with for the occasion.

It wasn't until he refuted her apology that she realized she'd given him one.  Banner looked a bit sheepish, but decided to push past it.  Her automatic response was her only defense in awkward social situations, something she'd used to bow out when discomfort overtook her.  That wasn't the case here.  Even back when they first met she didn't feel uncomfortable with him and that fact alone should have startled her.

Her dark brown ears twitched a bit at his words of congratulations.  As they sauntered along the borders of the Keep, she shot him an excited look.  Extra special bird feathers?  Ooh, she hummed out coyly though it was meant in the most genuine sense.  Banner was about to extend her thanks and ask a few questions about birds he'd seen around, but she stopped short of words when he said something in another language.  At least, she assumed it was another language.  A scent caught her attention, so she paused and dipped her head down to investigate.  After a cursory sniff she decided there was nothing notable going on in this particular spot, so she huffed and kept moving.

What language was that? she asked after a moment of quiet.  Her head had moved back to a normal level and instead of looking him in the eye, her bright green gaze scanned the darkness around them.  Banner could multitask with the best of them, apparently.

Buchanan's breath stuck in his throat at the excited look that Banner offered him when he spoke of “extra special” feathers as a present for her promotion. He looked away from it's purity and radiance for a small moment — enough to catch his breath — before his gaze slid back to her, an easy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The assassin took a deep breath, as he paused a few steps behind Banner as she paused, mostly to calm the slight rise in the pace of his heart before he lowered his head towards the border markings, giving them a sniff before he scratched at them, leaving his scent from the glands in his paw pads before Banner continued forth and he jogged to catch up with her, slowing his pace when he caught her, ensuring not to walk beside her but not linger too far back, either. After all, they were holding a conversation. Of sorts. And no one wanted to shout ahead or behind of them to maintain it.

She asked him what language he'd spoken in and it took a moment for it to sink into Buchanan's mind that not only had he spoken out loud, he'd also slipped into Russian. This time, it was Buchanan's turn to look sheepish. “I, ah, I didn't mean to say that out loud,” He admitted, not that he'd said anything bad. “It's Russian. It is...-” He corrected himself quickly. “-was The Officer's native tongue. I slip into it, at times.” In truth, this was the most he'd ever spoken to another besides The Officer; and the elderly master hadn't been much interested in learning about who “The Ghost” was, or how he felt or thought; and Buchanan had been the perfect dog, obedient if only out of the desire to mollify his master. “For the longest time it was all I spoke until I was trained enough to carry out a mission.” Because age hadn't mattered to The Officer. So long as “The Ghost” had been able to kill and defend himself effectively (and Buchanan had learned quick if to avoid The Officer's brutality and cruelty) that was all The Officer had been fussed about.

“I was thinking a songbird, maybe. I've seen a few colorful ones around.” He offered in explanation, in case she'd been wondering what he had spoken.

Ah, Russian.  Banner had never been exposed to that language before.  Then again, she wasn't sure she'd really been exposed to any language other than her own.  She frowned for the briefest of moments as she thought about it.  Did that make her.. uncultured?  Sheltered, maybe.  Everyone around these parts spoke English, languages hadn't really come up.  It's.. nice, she commented quietly.  "Nice" wasn't a great word to use.  It was beautiful, but she couldn't say that.

The short female paused for a beat and turned her bright green gaze to Buchanan.  The Officer.  And a mission.  Unbidden, her eyes snapped down to the scars on his shoulder.  Banner fought to move her attention back to his face - she didn't want to stare.  Rudeness and all that.  Furrowing her brows, the Beta moved to keep pace with him again.  She was so curious to know about his life, about things like The Officer and his missions and how his tail had come to be docked.  It was obvious to her that these were deeply personal and likely painful subjects and thus she had not a single clue how to broach them.

His thoughts had moved on, though.  Thank you, she said warmly, not sure how else to respond at the moment.  For a wolf who loved collecting feathers so much she hadn't spent much time actually observing birds.  A new hobby, perhaps?  Previous thoughts gnawed at her, though, and Banner couldn't help what came out next.  Will you.. tell me? she began in a small voice.  .. about you, I mean.  Not eloquent by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd managed to get it out with no major mishaps. 

Under the guise of scanning the borders, she looked away from him again.  She just felt so.. awkward.  It made her skin itch, honestly.  These things did not come naturally to her and she didn't want to make the situation worse by gaping at him like a moron.  .. if you want to, she added in a murmur.  Banner didn't want him to think that he had to share anything about himself with her.

no need to match the length! i got carried away, lol. :p

Banner commented on the Russian and he let out a soft laugh that rumbled pleasantly in his chest. She expressed her gratitude with warmness on his choice of birds but the conversation switched again, this time away from the topic of birds and onto him. He swallowed thickly, sticking to his silence as she asked him to tell her about him in a tiny voice. Buchanan wasn't quite sure that she was scared to ask him and if she wasn't that was ok; he was scared enough for the both of them. When he talked too much about things that had scarred him emotionally — his tail, for one — he had a tendency to suffer flashbacks. He didn't want Banner to see him like that: to realize that his compliance and control had it's own side of crazy and since Buchanan knew his triggers he tended to stray away from them as if they were the plague. Yet, it was a fair request that she made, even though she added in a murmur that he only had to tell her if he wanted to. He made a lot of vague references to The Officer and his past without ever willingly offering any explanations. Her curiosity was warranted and Buchanan knew this.

“Sometimes,” He began pausing to lick his jowls as they continued on with their patrol. “talking about things become triggers. Sometimes I get flashbacks.” As to how many triggers Buchanan had: he didn't know. He'd never spoken in length about his past with anyone before mostly because he'd never had anyone but The Officer. “The Officer took me when I was small, I was young enough that after a while I forgot my parents, forgot my name. He trained me, he...broke me and reforged me to how he wanted me: obedient, dependent upon him. Taught me how to kill and fight.” Buchanan's gaze fell to the ground beneath their paws, taking a moment to study the differences, needing the brief moment to remind him that, that was then and this was now. “When I was about six months old The Officer-” He swallowed thickly, around the air that stuck in his throat. A shudder ran down his spine but he focused his mind on his steps, on the sound of Banner's footfalls, his mercurial gaze wild for a moment as it sought her, trying to use Banner as an anchor to reality in the hopes that it might keep him from slipping into the memory. His breathing slowly became rapid and he fought against the memory, the flashback with a low grunt. The phantom pain in his docked tail had his teeth gnashing together — the ruined nerves in what was left of it were screaming. Buchanan fought against it, knowing that the only way to get past it was to confront his demons, to not let it and The Officer control his life anymore. He wasn't The Ghost anymore. He was Buchanan.

With a gasp Buchanan continued, “- The Officer docked my tail. It was his mark, his brand. To always remind me that he owned me, reminded me of my place as a peon.” Obviously, in some capacity The Officer had recognized that he would not live forever; and his brand was an effective reminder. “After the docking I was turned loose upon those he marked as his targets. I infiltrated, I lied and charmed and then I killed them.” There was no nice way to say it, no way to dress it up and make the ugly truth look pretty. He spared a look at her, wondering if knowing this, if knowing the truth would change how she thought of him. A strong part of Buchanan hoped that it did not for she had known to some degree what he was and what he had done. He'd said as much, vaguely. “All he had to do was say the goddamned word and I would do what he asked me, without question, without hesitation.” He had killed four wolves that he didn't know personally, that had never done anything to him simply because The Officer had told him to.

“The Officer made these tally marks for each kill. I'm missing one. It should be five,” Maybe he would figure out how to make it himself and carve it into his skin: the longest tally and the last. “My last mission went wrong,” Buchanan explained in a quieted voice, his brow furrowing with remembrance. “The Officer sent me to a pack and I infiltrated it easily enough. Except he didn't want me to kill, he wanted me to kidnap a small girl, barely three months old,” Buchanan had slipped into a whisper, his voice thick as he remembered it, trying to focus on their steps, on the familiar motions of patrolling, on Banner's presence again. “The Officer was an elder, though still fit and strong he had accepted his own mortality I guess. He meant for her to be trained to replace him. To continue on his work, to control me. She was small and innocent with big baby blue eyes and fur as white as down. I refused him. I wasn't going to willingly subject her to the same brutality and cruelty I had endured and whatever else he had planned for her. I wasn't going to steal from her the life she deserved to live. And The Officer and I fought and I ...I killed him.” Buchanan took a deep, uneven breath and peeked tentatively at Banner, half afraid of what he'd see in her face.

oh i want to hug him! ._.

The ear closest to Buchanan was turned in his direction.  She didn't want to miss a thing.  Banner kept moving forward at their leisurely pace while he spoke.  There was no rush.  The two of them had all the time in the world.  At least they did until the sun came up and then they'd each have to go about their daily business.  Apart.  Or did they?

For a while she kept her eyes exclusively forward.  It was easier for her to hear Buchanan's story while she was also engaged in patrolling.  The life he lived was one so completely foreign to her.  To be taken away from her parents so young, to be brutalized and forced do to such awful things.. a shudder threatened to race down her dark brown spine, but she fought it.  When he memtioned the small pup, the details he provided were were a bright spot in his story: the big blue eyes and white downy fur.  Her own eyes widened bit as she chanced a look at him.  The Officer did many things to him, but not so much that he did not eventually stand up against his cruel captor.  There was enough good in him to save that girl from the life he'd lived.  She likely went on to have the childhood he'd been denied.

Banner's pace quickened, just enough to allow her to manuever herself several paces ahead and directly in front of the larger male.  Words to indicate that she'd like him to stop were stuck in her throat.  The Beta feared the sound of her voice now would disturb the crickets and general peace of the willow trees - Buchanan's deep baritone almost blended in with the background noise.  It had been soothing despite the topic of discussion.   She looked down at her front paws for just a moment before finding his silvery eyes in the darkness.  .. He deserved it, she said finally, her voice quiet as could be.  The words "I'm glad you killed him!" didn't seem appropriate, though it really was what she felt.  Conversations of this nature called for a certain delicate touch she often lacked.

You saved that girl, she murmured.  Banner couldn't get past that particular part of his story.  What he'd done for that mystery girl was beyond measure.  And yourself, she added.  He'd saved both of them and ended The Officer's reign of terror.  It was by far the most commendable deed she'd ever heard of, but the short woman couldn't figure out how to get that point across.  She strugged, her face reflecting a bit of the confusion she felt.  Thank you, she finally said, something Buchanan had likely not ever heard.  Banner was still a little confused as to why she said it, but the words felt right, so her features evened out and she stepped toward him.

i smiled like an idiot writing this post, ngl.

 

Buchanan expected her to look at him as if he were the devil incarnate. Like one would look at a sword that had cut down too many lives to count: tentative, horrified, even. He deserved it. He deserved the fear and the disgust. He had done almost everything The Officer had commanded him to: loyally, without question. The little girl had been a ...fluke. A flaw in the system that had otherwise ran smoothly, without trouble. A single good deed did not cancel out all the wrong he'd done: to innocents that had never done anything to him to deserve their deaths by his jaws. There was never any evidence that they'd ever done anything to The Officer, either. It hadn't been Buchanan's place to question him for questions brought pain and pain brought suffering that Buchanan had selfishly not wanted to de with.

Buchanan's steps ceased as Banner quickened her pace so that she could stop before him, facing him. His shoulders stiffened as he mentally prepared himself to bear the brunt of her disgust, having convinced himself that she would think him despicable and was going to tell him he had to find a new home elsewhere. Yet, she did not. Her gaze sought his, and he licked his jowls as she spoke, fighting around the words that got caught in his throat when Banner affirmed that The Officer had deserved his death. Of that, Buchanan would never dispute, but it had been — at the time anyway — at a personal cost to Buchanan who had killed the only companion he'd ever known. The most wretched but closest thing to a father figure he'd had and had left himself as a lost omega without his alpha.

“It's not a life I'd wish on my worst enemy, let alone condemn an innocent child to,” Buchanan explained himself humbly, not quite sure what to do with her gratitude, nor why she was thanking him. Perhaps it had been some hidden paternal instincts that Buchanan didn't even know he had or maybe he just fancied the idea of protecting the innocent. Regardless, something had sparked his insubordination when he realized what was going on. He liked to think that anyone would have done the same in his situation; but there wasn't much time to contemplate it further as Banner had begun to move closer to him, and the assassin's breath had caught in his throat. “I can't change what I did for him, anymore than I can change that sometimes I liked being an assassin,” which was the worst part. He hadn't hated how it triggered his predatory instincts, indulged them like no other prey could. It was a gross thing, certainly not one that he was proud of.

He was babbling. God, he was nervous. It was kind of hard to imagine how she — so small and beautiful — could reduce him to an anxious flutter in his stomach. Yet, Buchanan, as perplexing as it was to him, wanted her to know him; even if she ended up hating him for it. “but I can look to my future, and I have a home and the chance to be more than a peon, an assassin and I owe it to you, so thank you.” He swallowed around the lump of butterflies that had fluttered their way up the strong column of his throat, lowering his gaze in a timid manner.

:D

He appeared to be growing a bit nervous, which caused Banner to pause after only two steps toward him.  A smile ghosted across her lips - she intended it to be a reassuring gesture, but their conversation didn't warrant that particular expression and so she let it pass.  Instead she tilted her head to the side and listened without judgement when he admitted how much he enjoyed what he'd done.  Wolves were hunters and though assassination wasn't the same thing, she could understand the thrill of the hunt in some small way.  Anger was something she avoided desperately, but in the back of her mind Banner knew she enjoyed the feeling of losing control, of hearing her heartbeat pound in her chest and how her blood always seemed to speed through her veins.

But she didn't let it define her.  Well, she tried not to let it define her.  Stark thought she'd been doing rather well for herself, actually.  So much so that he believed she'd earned the rank of Beta.  While he meant absolutely everything to her, Banner couldn't discount that he was perhaps a bit biased when it came to her.  Not that she minded personally, of course, but he'd give her plenty of leeway if push came to shove.  Too much, even.

Her attention snapped back to Buchanan.  Her plush tail wagged twice behind her.  You were more than that before we met, she said evenly, her tone almost soothing.  But..  Banner looked down again and moved forward another couple of steps until she stood inches away from him.  Craning her neck to look him in the eye, she noticed again just how tall he was compared to her.  .. You're welcome?  She laughed quietly at herself.  It lasted just one second, but helped the Beta relax a bit.  Oh, they were so close now.  She sucked in a shallow breath and touched her nose to his dark shoulder.  Physical affection was something she reserved for Stark only.  No one else could.. she couldn't chance anyone getting to close to anyone else.

But this?  This was good.

Buchanan watched as she paused as she sensed his anxiety and while he appreciated her initiative to give him space, how attentive she was to his body language, he wasn't trying to and didn't want to ward her off. The assassin was nervous because he didn't want to mess up, because that was the effect she had on him: restless butterflies in his stomach, caught breaths and timid, admiring glances. Buchanan wasn't sure how to process his growing affection for Banner beyond that he recognized that it was there; and the assassin did not try to linger upon it, nor analyze it. He simply let it be and take him where it may.

Buchanan studied her with mild curiosity when she spoke that he'd been more than just a peon before they'd met. While her tone was soothing and even he took her words to be formed out of confidence, assuming that she meant it when she said it. Yet, if that was true why had he strove so desperately to replace The Officer with Phippa? For reasons unknown to the wraith, she had not only failed but betrayed him. Abandoned him. Yet, without those unfortunate circumstances in his life: if not for The Officer kidnapping him and Phiipa betraying him it was possible that he might have never met Banner, and certainly if Phiipa wouldn't have left as abruptly and without preamble as she had he would not be here now. Or perhaps he would have. Perhaps, despite all of the possibilities it might have always led him to meeting Banner and to joining the Marauders; to this moment right here.

Banner had begun drawing nearer to him once more and Buchanan was still, patient. Buchanan's gaze lowered and held as she looked up at him, his inhale deep as she took a shallow breath and he felt the press of her nose against his shoulder. Not counting the gestures of comrade he'd received, it was the first actual touch that he could remember that was not of hostility and did not bear with it the brutality of punishment. It was a gesture that his instincts perceived to be affectionate. He released the breath he'd held for those few seconds in a contended rumble before he reached out — tentatively for a moment, only to gauge her reaction — returned it.

For a second she was afraid.  Not of him, of what she knew he could do, but of what he didn't do.  Banner swallowed hard and prepared to back away, but then she felt more than heard the deep rumble in his chest.  Her eyelids slid smoothly shut at the feel of him returning her affectionate gesture.  The gamble had paid off!  She sighed softly and turned her nose inward to his throat, her dark brown cheek now resting comfortably against his shoulder.

Oh, this physical touch was so much different.  Her playful affection with Stark had strictly been of the familial type and as such Banner had no clue it could feel like this.  She was still barely touching Buchanan but the way her heart fluttered and her pulse quickened made her feel so alive.  The extra adrenaline left her feeling bold - somewhere in the back of her mind an alarm bell blared.  Too much.  Not enough?  Mentally she pressed on, willing herself to leave any doubtful thoughts in the dust.  Her ears folded back and she allowed a low rumble of her own, the warmth of her tone reflecting the heated feel of her own skin.

S.. she mumbled, her words slightly muffled by his fur: .. sorry.  Banner, once again, had no idea why she apologized.  It came out unbidden, an awful little habit she'd likely never break.  Her eyes fluttered open, but she did not move away.  Not yet.  If Buchanan backed away then she'd really have something to apologize for.  Now, however, she rather enjoyed being in his personal space.

He felt her soft sigh leave her lips, as opposed to actually being able to claim that he heard it — felt it in the way her breath saturated his fur. It had been brief, for little more than a handful of seconds but it'd been enough. He felt when she moved her head, her nose moving from his shoulder to the side of his throat, her cheek flush with his shoulder. His own head moved so that his chin rested lightly against the junction between her shoulders. Her own mirror of his soft rumble caused a shiver to slither down the strong curve of his spine. His eyes closed as he reveled in her touch, in her closeness. This experience — of affection, namely — was a new sensation to him. To feel affection for another (for he would not cite the morbid admiration, fear and desire to please The Officer as affection) and be on, perhaps, the receiving end of it as well. It was a warmth. His racing heart. It was an electricity. It was small and lively flames patiently waiting to become an inferno. Whether he would survive the inferno unscathed or it would burn him he had yet to decide.

His eyes opened slowly with his perplexity when she apologized. It was muffled, spoken into the fur at his throat, but he heard it plenty clear. Unless this was an accident — and he did not think that it was if only because she did not pull away despite her apology — he didn't see the need for her to apologize. God, he didn't want her to apologize for this. Though Buchanan had always exercised caution and plenty of personal space he found that he didn't mind her invasion of his space. Hell, he liked it. “Don't-” Buchanan implored of her, his tone thick and gruff. “don't apologize for this.” Not while he was busy cherishing it, not ever, really, but at the moment he wanted to milk the affectionate touch for all it was worth in case it never occurred again and didn't want to be busy analyzing her apology for it.

Buchanan's gentle touch sent a thrill down her spine.  Though her blood still raced through her veins, she felt herself ease into the feeling and begin to relax.  Really relax.  Her previous apology had come out all wrong and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep another from spilling out of her mouth.  But he was right - she shouldn't apologize for this.  Clearly he'd appreciated their closeness and it meant she had nothing to worry about.  For now.  Banner's inexperience with matters of personal affection and attraction meant she'd be playing with a handicap, maybe even a very steep one.  She swallowed audibly and released the flesh she'd been holding between her teeth.

She meant to respond in the affirmative but all that came out was a deeply satisfied Hmm.  Surprisingly, she felt no emarassment from the throaty noise she'd emmitted.  Banner tilted her head until her crown rested on the front his shoulder and gave him an absent-minded rub.  For a lady with no experience in this kind of thing, she did have the sense of mind to realize how very natural it all felt for her.  She'd practically tucked herself into Buchanan!  It was a delicate, feminine gesture that she'd never had the chance to put into practice.  Odd.

Crown still pressed to his shoulder, she opened her eyes and rolled them up until she met his own.  Her lips curled into a soft smile.  Hello, she murmured playfully.  Banner wasn't quite sure what to say now.

no need to match the length; i got carried away again. ^-^

As new as the gestures and touches of affection were to the assassin he was comfortable, which was kind of, but not really mildly surprising to the dark wraith. What was surprising was that he did tense nor move away for he associated physical touches with pain because that was all The Officer had ever given him: pain and suffering. Physical and psychological. He didn't necessarily fear being touched but he, as Banner likely remembered from their very first meeting, liked to maintain a comfortable level of distance between him and other wolves. Yet, at the same time, it didn't fully surprise him that he both allowed and enjoyed Banner's touch: simply because it was Banner and Buchanan knew that if it were anyone else he would have backed away the second he noticed them moving closer.

She made a noise that sounded content enough for Buchanan, who was glad that she didn't pull back, nor did she insist on apologizing for it. He emitted his own throaty noise when he felt her rub against his shoulder, reminiscent of the contented noise he'd released a short while ago. Buchanan felt a smile tug effortless across his muzzle as her eyes rolled up and met her gaze. Still the prettiest green he'd ever seen. Buchanan returned her playful “hello” with a grin and a soft “Hey,” leaving his lips in a tone that was huskier than he would have liked. It wasn't surprising that Buchanan wasn't sure what to say now, either, but as a man of many words this wasn't unusual for him. He'd spent his life leashed and muzzled and found now that even though he was free he still had little to say. Except when it came to Banner (who seemed to be the exception to a lot of things) who was the only creature besides maybe Phiipa that Buchanan had been “talkative” around; but Banner was an entirely different situation than the woman Buchanan had tried to replace The Officer with.

Despite that it could hardly be classified as intimate in any way other than innocence, it was the most intimate Buchanan had ever done before. Yet, Banner was special to him, even if he wasn't sure in what ways; perhaps it was because in a world that the assassin knew he was an anomaly she made him feel normal, even if this “normal” and “new life” was taking some adjusting to. He kept looking over his back for The Officer, found himself worrying that this — all of this, this happiness — was a beautiful dream that would soon shatter and he would wake up to the nightmare that The Officer had made of his life. It wasn't something that Buchanan could help. The Officer might have lost his corporeal body when Buchanan ended his life but the monster lived on inside Buchanan's memories, in the flashbacks.

“Ty takaya krasivaya” Buchanan murmured in Russian, at first, as it was the first time, realizing that once again he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. Though there was a slight flush to his cheeks, there was the deeper resolve that she deserved to hear it in a language that she understood. “You're so beautiful.” The assassin repeated to her, in the common tongue. Even if it brought a deeper flood of heat to his cheeks, though he was embarrassed only for the sake of not being able to anticipate her reaction, it was the truth as he saw it: and she deserved to hear it.

The warm feeling that raced through her body - what was it?  Banner quietly contemplated the way her body lit up at Buchanan's touch, how the sound of his deep voice seemed to cut through and dull any errant thoughts flitting about in her mind.  The husky sound in his voice intrigued her in a way she hadn't experienced before in her young life.  Breathing deeply, she averted her eyes from his face and smothered a grin in his chest.  He'd responded to her simple greeting in kind instead of treating her like a small-minded fool.  Knowing what she did of his past, the small female couldn't help but wonder if he were just as inexperienced as she in the ways of.. well, whatever this was.  To actually voice that question aloud at this point was unthinkable for her, so she'd let it drop.  Maybe one day.

She loved hearing him speak in Russian.  He'd only spared a few words up to this point, but Banner doubted she'd ever get enough of it.  Hell, he could be calling her foul names and she'd never know it.  She'd hardly care!  Ah, but then he followed up in English - no, she cared.  She cared a great deal.  Her eyes met his again and she melted.  He'd calmed her completely with heartfelt words and the kind of intimatcy she'd never shared with anyone before.  This was big for her - huge - and she was too satisfied to retreat mentally.  Naturally, she was also unable to make her own voice work, but that didn't bother her as much as it usually did.  Playfully, she offered him another low rumble before reaching up to nibble at his jaw.

The rest of the world had long since faded to her.  Even the ever-present cricketsong had been reduced to a mere buzz in the background, indistinguishable from the buzz in her brain and the lovely hum of her body.  That was why the incredibly close overhead bat screech served as a douse of ice cold water.  Banner gasped sharply and tore herself away from Buchanan, her compact body spinning quickly and falling into a defensive crouch.  Her green eyes wildily darted about as she attempted to locate the source of that awful, jarring noise.  Some part of her knew that it had been a harmless bat, but the part of her that had been rudely interrupted instead snarled out into the darkness.

Her tail lashed furiously as she stalked a few paces away from her tall, dark, and handsome company.  Banner began to breathe deeply as she felt the fur along her spine stand on end.  Her agitation gave way to anger at being interrupted and regardless of how foolish she knew it to be, the chocolate female slipped easily into the feeling.

The moment was carefully cherished and unbelievably perfect to the assassin, for whatever it was worth. He allowed himself to steal it, to live in it with her, as if time had stopped ticking on outside of them — never mind that very little of the patrol they'd been running had gotten done. The world was faded, easily tuned out background noise to Banner. His docked tail gave a few, unimpressive and easily unnoticed wags as she let out another rumble, a low, noise akin to a purr of pleasure lingered in the dark wraith's throat when he felt Banner nibble his jaw. The bites were small, felt but had the very opposite feeling of pain. Buchanan purled out a low, throaty word in Russian; and had been about to translate it when a bat screeched overhead. The sudden onslaught of high pitched noise caused his ears to perk, alert and then slick back to his rest against his skull cautiously when she gasped and abruptly tore herself away from him. He felt her absence, and though it was not particularly chilly with the absence of her warmth he felt the echo of her teeth nipping at his jaw before that, too, faded.

The moment had shattered at the heinous screech of the winged fiend. She moved quickly, oddly graceful he watched as she crouched low in a defensive position. His mercurial gaze watched her with cautious eyes, not unsure that she wouldn't attack him. He waited for her to cool off after she snarled into the darkness, to re-approach him but she did not. Though he heard her take deep breaths, Buchanan watched as her tail lashed violently behind her as she stalked away from him. Her body language sent off warning flags in Buchanan's mind: to exert caution. “Banner,” Buchanan called out to the Beta softly, rooted to the spot where she'd left him, knowing better than to attempt to approach her.

Silvern gaze assessed her, analyze her body language for changes noticable or subtle, the muscles of his shoulders tensing instinctively in preparation for possible aggression aimed at him.

Her body felt hot in a much different way than it had several minutes ago.  Had it only been minutes?  It felt like hours.  Days, even.  Anger pricked intensely at her skin and caused her breathing to become even deeper.  Banner heard no further bat screeches, only the crickets whose chrips were severely muffled by the rushing of blood in her ears.  It was a dull roar and she struggled internally to differentiate the sound of her beating heart with this awful, persistent pounding.

But that voice, it sailed right through everything unencumbered to grab her attention.  Another sharp breath later and she tossed her head back over her shoulder to pin him with a wild look.  Banner's eyes were slightly glassy and mostly unfocused as she stared at him intensely.  He was.. he was.  Buchanan.  The large, powerful male who treated her with gentle respect.  The wolf who kept her company and sought her out when he had no one else.  Buchanan.

Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to focus on him, really focus her mind on what she was seeing.  Her green gaze darted down to the scars on his shoulder.  Right.  He'd just shared his story with her, before they'd shared an intimate moment.  She swallowed audibly and turned back to face him slowly.  Her movements were measured, ears pinned back in a caution that was pure instinct.  He was watching her intently like she was an unpredicatable.. animal.  Banner's brows furrowed and as quickly as it had come, the anger drained out of her.  She didn't meet his eyes again but opened her mouth to say something.  That damn apology was on the tip of her tonue, too!

Snapping her jaws shut with a click, the short female rushed back to him and pressed herself into his chest.  She sucked in a ragged breath but still said nothing.  What was there to say?  She'd completely lost it in what had been an utterly perfect moment and now all she had left to do was cling to the hope that he'd still accept her.

wrote this quick before bed so i apologize for any horrible spelling mistakes, etc lol.

 

Buchanan did not have long to wait for his voice to reach Banner and the assassin knew when it had, for when it did she fixed him in an intense, feral stare. He was calm, even while he was not certain that she was, even though it was possible that she could turn her rage onto him. He hadn't survived five fights to the death to not know that he could handle a beast of reckless abandon. Sure, they were the most dangerous: those that were uncontrollable and those that had nothing to lose. But Banner wasn't them and he could not even fathom the idea of hurting her: because he wouldn't. He knew that if she channeled her wrath at him, if she came charging he would let her. He could take it.

Seconds passed as they continued their stare off, and as each second ticked by Buchanan felt the nag of anxiety in his mind. He should have shrunk beneath the weight of her gaze, if only because she was his Beta but he didn't. Not out of insubordination but because he wanted her to see him, in the consideration that she might be able to use him as an anchor as he'd used her as he fought his flashbacks. He did not know if that was what she was suffering from, but regardless he sympathized. He lost control of reality and struggled to tell the difference between what was real and what was a memory.

A few more second passed and Buchanan watched as she came rushing back to him, pressing herself against his chest. The dark wraith accepted her back into his embrace without hesitation. So, she had demons. So did he. She accepted his, she accepted him despite the darkness that clung to his past. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of and in Buchanan's mind she was still a saint, still an angel compared to him. “You're alright,” The assassin cooed to her in an attempt to be reassuring. “I'm not going anywhere.” He promised, unsure if it was necessary but he spoke it regardless.

Her focus was only on the sound of his voice.  It was deep and soothing and kept her grounded when she needed it desperately.  Banner realized she'd been trembling just a bit, but she was too mentally exhausted to decide if it was because of how rapidly her anger had passed through or due to the male she'd sought comfort from.  As the adrenaline faded from her body she felt a chill despite the warmth of the evening.  Maybe that was it.  Her throat was so dry now but she swallowed several times anyway - maybe it would just go away.

Speaking of.  Buchanan had murmured to her that he wasn't leaving.  How did he know..?  She burrowed her nose into his throat.  Even though it wasn't harsh, she felt as though she were digging to the very core of him to curl up around the warmth and comfort he provided.  There she'd be able to block out the rest of the world, to ignore any and all distractions that life lobbed her way, and she could just be.  It was a childish thought, however fleeting, and it dawned upon the Beta exaclty why she'd never allowed herself closeness like this to another wolf who wasn't Stark.

Right.  She backed away from Buchanan, a sheepish sort of sadness reflecting in her green eyes.  If this.. this thing were to continue, she couldn't just toss herself at him like a child every time something set her off.  Banner had a job to do, a job Stark had entrusted to only her, and she'd be damned if she left him down.  But oh, it felt so very cold when she created the distance between herself and her scarred companion.  I.. she began, clearly unsure of herself.  .. can we.. start again?  Our walk, she clarified, looking down and away from him as though she weren't really talking about their walk at all.  Ah.. slowly?  Her voice was small and unsteady, even a bit ragged from the strong wave of emotion that had ripped through her.

Because slowly was the only way she'd be able to handle anything at all.  Even if he was understanding and, in her eyes, utterly perfect.

A soft shudder rippled through Buchanan as he felt her bury her nose against his throat, and though he missed her presence again when she retreated from him, this time it was calm and clearly not a trigger reaction to outside stimuli he let her create the distance. Though he was far from cold, the begrudgingly familiar chill settled against his throat, where her nose had been buried mere moments before. Was it possible to miss someone's physical presence? Was it normal to crave that physical closeness? Buchanan didn't know. She spoke, claiming his attention as it was tugged from his contemplation, his mercurial gaze settling upon her. His ears cupped forth atop his skull as she made her inquiry. For a moment he was confused until she clarified that she was speaking of the walk, though she looked away from him. It was a curious gesture. “Of course,” Buchanan agreed in a soft voice, though whether they were talking about the walk or something else, or perhaps even both he didn't know but the answer would remain the same throughout all the potential meanings her inquiry could have held.

“We'll take it slow,” He gestured for her to take the lead with a sweep of his muzzle, lowering it. It was early (or late?) after all and Buchanan doubted they would run into any sort of trouble at the borders, besides as it was easy to assume that no one else was awake Buchanan didn't think either of them had anything overly pressing that required them to rush the patrol. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly offering her a soft, reassuring smile.

wrap up here and thread again soon? (:

Banner lifted her face to give him a grateful look.  Grateful, once again, for how he took everything in stride.  Did anything ruffle his feathers?  Did he ever lose control?  Logically she knew that he must have - at least once, anyway.  No one was perfect.  But Buchanan was such a controlled creature, one who truly knew himself inside and out.  At least, that was what it seemed like to her.  Banner still knew there was much about the male she hadn't learned, but they'd started tonight.  At the thought of how close they'd been, she coudn't help the upward tick of her lips.  It didn't seem appropriate for moving them along (and that was what she wanted, right?) so she looked away again, this time in the direction they'd been headed before their.. interlude.

Thank you, she responded.  Her voice was low and thick with sincerity and Banner found herself softly sighing as she turned and began forward again.  Her body language was less confident than before and her shoulders sagging with exhaustion didn't help matters.  Her lack of sleep combined with that awful drained feeling due to her anger made for one tired lady.  A yawn escaped her, though she didn't really try to prevent it from coming out.  Due to the late hour she trusted that Buchanan would understand the fatigue she now displayed.  Naturally she was a stubborn thing, so they'd continue on with their late perusal of The Keep's borders.

Nothing would bother them tonight, though.  Nothing except the demons they each harbored, but that was a battle for another day.

of course! c: <3

 

Buchanan studied her when she looked down and away, having caught the slight lift of the corner of her lips. If they had not started a patrol he would have spent all night here with her, but they were supposed to be doing a sweep of the borders. He didn't feel guilty for the moment they'd stolen, not quite sure what it meant or where it left them; but there was a lot that they didn't know about each other and he was in no rush to define what was blossoming between them. Not that Buchanan truly thought anything she would tell him would ever change his mind about her: it couldn't be any worse than the atrocities that the dark wraith had committed; and regardless, she accepted him for it. "You're welcome." Buchanan spoke in a low murmur when she expressed her gratitude verbally,  his silvern eyes having watched as she turned her back to him. He took a small moment to stretch before he caught up to her as the pair continued their patrol. He almost suggested that she go back and sleep when she yawned, almost offered that he could finish the patrol on his own but selfishly he didn't want her to go, and anyway, if she wanted to exit out and go back to sleep she could, there wasn't anything leashing her to the borders. Banner kept on and Buchanan remained close as they continued on and eventually wrapped their patrol up in a comfortable silence.