Pandle and Papers 1x1

[PapaRoachFan]

|•| Lance Corporal Parker |•|
[Cheyanne Blaze Parker]

Cheyanne looked up at Greg, her eyes now fully opened. "It's okay, you didn't," she said, watching as he came and sat at the edge of her bed. She was glad that he had stayed nearby, giving her the security need to be able to sleep fairly soundly.

"Okay, sore but its nothing new," she said, slowly sitting up though it hurt a bit. It was fairly chilly in the house so she wrapped herself up in the blankets. "Okay, Greg," she said quietly, seeing his grim smile so she reached her hand forward to rest on his shoulder. "Yeah," she agreed quietly, looking down at the sheets. Her mind wandered back to the horrific scene of earlier, closing her eyes as she tried to clear it from her mind though it didn't work.

"Thank you again for saving me," she said, her voice quiet as she looked into his eyes. "Well, we'll need food and heat cause its really cold in here," she said, pulling the blankets closer to her chilled body. "And we'll need running water or atleast water for bathing and drinking," she added, taking a few breaths. "Is there food here?" she asked, her stomach growling a bit. She hadn't eaten in about two days since provisions had been low for her group and the higher ranks were given the food since they were the important ones.

|~| Its okay. I'll be able to work with it. c: |~|

[PapaRoachFan]

|~| Friendly bump |~|

[Pandle]

Lieutenant-Colonel Williams
[Gregory Hammish Scott Williams ]

Her reassurance means a lot, he has never had anyone tell him it's okay. He has been treated the same his entire life, as something different; a higher ranked officer, a man of action but never as just a man. His feelings have meant nothing to no one. He may have well been called "nemo" at birth for all the difference it would make. Here is somebody who does care. Or, unintentionally has brought a sense of calm to a man lost in the oceans of chaos.
"I wouldn't have left anyone behind if it could have been helped." The words slip grimly from his mouth and hang between them. Gregory cannot bring himself to accept thanks, even looking at her brings a discomfort to his throat that tastes of smoke and burnt human flesh. She is alive because he left everyone else -this is not so, but it is the perception of Greg. He let them die so she could live. But letting her die now wouldn't bring them back. She had to live.

He would die to ensure it now.

"Um, a little." Food, yes, there was some in the cupboards but not enough to hold them up for the winter. "The owner's can't have left here too long ago by my thinking." He adds as he turns to deploy downstairs on a hunt for some food. He pauses at the edge of the stairs and proffers the ceiling a watery smile, as if it were a friend.
Downstairs it is silent, the darkness if deep and heavy, a sense of foreboding spreads through him as he stalks into the kitchen and pulls from one cabinet a little bread and from the fridge a tray of cheese. He cuts a thin slice for himself and savours the taste of it on his tongue, then with the tray in both hands he returns upstairs to lay the food on the bed for Cheyanne.
"It looks like there's a vegetable patch, with any luck by spring we'll have some more food." He doesn't add that the food supplies they have would last a week between them. Doesn't mention the dead body of the Mafia assassin downstairs who tried to kill him while he collected the food. He says nothing of the peril they are in. Instead he stalks to the top of the narrow spiral stairs and sits there with his gun, ready to shoot at the first thing that moves.
"You should rest some more," he mumbles quietly, he cannot picture Cheyanne, or anyone, doing anything other than sleeping, for what else is there to do? He has never kept company in the night and he feels awkward to face her while she rests, instead he turns his back to her and opens his mind to the burning human bodies that were once his friends. The flames soar behind his eyes and he cries in silence for the friends lost...


{{ Sorry about the delay, i've been watching Supernatural and it took over my life for a week or so xD I've put it on hold now, lots of work to do lol.

[PapaRoachFan]

|•| Lance Corporal Parker |•|
[Cheyanne Blaze Parker]

Cheyanne looked up at Greg and wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Then he began to speak of the incident of earlier. "I know you would've tried to save all of them but you couldn't help that the enemy threw the grenade," she said softly, hoping to help in any way possible though she didn't know whether she was helping or not. She slowly layed back against the pillows of the bed and listened to him. "Okay," she said quietly, carefully pulling the blankets up over her bandages.

She looked around the fairly large room until Greg made his way back upstairs. Then the small tray was set near her so she carefully reached forward for a thin slice of bread and a little cheese. It felt so good to have something in her stomach after multiple days of not eating anything but some scraps that was left over from what her male comrades had eaten.

"That will be useful. I know a little about gardening and farming," she admitted quietly, not wanting to be too loud in such silence. Then Greg moved to sit at the top of the stairs, causing her to sigh softly. "I've slept a good bit," she said silently before adding, "you should rest some. I'll keep watch and if something appears, I'll come get you if it's needed," she said in a soft voice, seeing a jacket in the small closet of the room and carefully got up though the pain racked her body. Her footsteps were silent with her barefeet as she made her way to the closet and slipped her good arm through before draping the other shoulder of the jacket over her hurt shoulder. It pained her but kept a well placed façade to hide the pain from her facial features.

She walked a little closer towards Greg and stopped about three feet away. "Please, I insist that you rest,'' she said quietly as she rests most of her weight on her right leg. This was a fairly awkward situation since she had never been alone with a man before, only with about three or four who had tried to woo her when she first enlisted but soon realized that she was serious about being in the army and backed off. While she was in the army she spent most of her time with the other female in her company but now... she had only Greg for company but it didn't bother her since she has noticed that he has kept his distance and cares for her in a way that was comforting to him so he wasn't alone and wouldn't go mad. It was basically the same way for her since she was used to being around other people even if she didn't exactly get along with them but the company of the others was welcomed since the silence was killer...

Images of the earlier ordeal came to her mind, causing her to flinch which made her wounded shoulder twitch. This caused her pain but she but her lip and closed her eyes to keep from making a noise. She wanted to wander the house to clear her head though she truly wanted to explore outside but knew the threat of the Mafia would be great. With that in mind, she went rummage through the dresser that was in the room. She found a pair of wool socks that she slipped on her with trouble since she had only one hand that was useful. After a few attempts with each sock, she managed to get them on and walked back towards Greg. He should sleep and she could use the time to stretch her sore legs while surveying what the house was like.

[PapaRoachFan]

Happy St. Patrick's Day! c: Hope to rp soon.

[PapaRoachFan]

|~| On break. Hope you have a very Happy Easter and a fun break. |~|

[Pandle]

Lieutenant-Colonel Williams
[Gregory Hammish Scott Williams ]

Rest? Gregory hardly trusted himself to blink, let alone fall asleep. It didn't matter that Chey was right, that he did need rest and time to recover, he couldn't face the ordeal.
He rose slowly from his post, still staring down into the obsidian darkness of the lower floor, before he too gave that up, replacing one side of the room for another. Chey blocks his path with her pleas for him to rest but he can only bow his head. He does not enjoy making false promises or signing his name to things that he does not believe will occur. Instead he grunts an agreement and huffs onto the bed. The mattress is soft beneath his aching bones. The Lieutenant hadn't realised how sore he was, how exhausted his body had become.

His eyes are shut before his head hits the pillow. His feet tuck up as he curls into the foetal position, the filth on his boots staining the sheet as he moves to get comfortable. The soft snuffles of his dream world are the only sounds to escape the young man as he slumbers. But inside his head the dream rages on and it is far from quiet.

Flames lick the rubble, most of them have distinguished themselves now, the mighty empire of fire now nothing more than an island. The house looks pathetic, the roof has gone completely, the walls are black and grey, ash floats around the air and covers them. Mable's dress collects it, so too does her hair. She fights of tears as she peers from over the top of Gregory's head, his little hands holding her against his back. In the dusk the snap and crack of burnt timber, the hiss and purr of flames, are the only clues of reality. "Mummy? Daddy?" They are children. They are alone. Their house, their possessions, their world, in ashes. Mable slips from his back, Gregory watches as she moves through the wreckage, he follows her, finds his own way amongst it too, together, in their silences, they obey the laws of fire and hunt for what they can. A trinket from their childhood, a photograph protected only because it was in a glass frame. The leg of a stuffed teddy that somehow survived.

[PapaRoachFan]

|•| Lance Corporal Parker |•|
[Cheyanne Blaze Parker]

Cheyanne glanced over at the man as she waited for hi to either speak or move. She hoped that he would rest, even if it would be only for a little while.
She soon watched as he rose from his place at the top of the staircase. The man walked over towards the bed, nodding to her. Maybe it was that he was agreeing to rest? She didn't know for sure until he falls onto the bed with a huff. Maybe this will help him feel better, she thought, as he soon curled up and went to sleep. Once she was sure he was asleep, she made her way downstairs to find a small firearm which she soon places into the waistband of her slacks. Her eyes surveyed the lower levels, seeing a dead mafia member on the floor. Must've happened while I was out, she thought, making her way around him to search the house. There was a small living room with a small sofa and a love seat. She sat on one of the pieces of furniture and slowly tried to relax though her mind is on high alert for any possible threats.

|| Super sorry for shortness. It'll get better when I get back into the rp ||

[Pandle]

Lieutenant-Colonel Williams
[Gregory Hammish Scott Williams ]

Smoke stung his nostrils even when he hauled himself back into the world of the waking. Greg wasn't a fool, he knew the smoke was his body remembering the grenade blast, he could feel the uncomfortable stinging, an acrid taste of burnt flesh and human hair on his tongue. All those lives lost. The sparks behind his eyelids were ghosts of the bomb blast and his ears rang with gunshots. It hurt his pride and honour that so many had died today. Gregory had sworn that there would be no man left behind. He had left them all behind to save a girl.

With a groan, Gregory brought himself to sit upright, his boots planted on the icy marble. Who had marble for a floor? Rich people, he supposed. People who lived in the house only during the peak of summer. Well now the leaves would be turning gold and falling from their perches and little good it did them to have the cold stone for company. Rubbing his fingers over his temples the soldier pushed himself upright and re-made the bed before forcing himself into the bathroom. The tap coughed up water, none of which was hot, but he splashed it over his face and risked a glance of his face in the mirror. The left side was raw, the tissue scarring from the heat of the flames, his right side ashen and darkened by stubble. He turned away, unfeeling, and trooped downstairs with his weapon, alert for signs of danger as the darkness consumed him.

[PapaRoachFan]

|•| Lance Corporal Parker |•|
[Cheyanne Blaze Parker]

Cheyanne watched the door that was visible and kept an ear open for anything out of the ordinary though nothing came. She was overly glad about that since she was still a bit woozy from earlier. The one thing she was glad about was that Greg was with her though her 'brothers' were no longer with them but in a better place, hoping their deaths were quick and painless. Soon enough she became lost in her thoughts while sitting in the front room.
After a little while of being in her own world, she came back to reality as she heard feet planting on the floor upstairs. She rose slowly and walked silently in a pair of wool socks, making her way upstairs to investigate. Silently, she removed the gun from her waistband and pointed the muzzle to the floor as she walked up the steps. With only a few steps before making it upstairs, she found that it was Greg who had been upstairs and a sigh escaped her lips that there was no danger. "Sleep okay?" she asked quietly, stopping in her tracks and backing down the stairs until she was flat on the ground and stepped out if the man's path. She waited silently for his answer as she stood at ease with her arm against her body so she wouldn't tug at her stitches.
She glanced over him and seen that he was showing signs of earlier's events. The ashen skin on the right side of his face and on the left, the raw skin from the flames. She knew it was her fault since she was stupid enough to stand up while being fired at from an unknown point as well as being shot. He's the reason that she is still up and breathing, and for getting patching her up. She owed him her life many times over. She looked at him with guilt in her eyes for the trouble she caused, wishing there was something she could do to make this any easier on the two. "I'm sorry for all this happening," she murmured silently, her eyes now downcast on the floor. She spoke in no louder than a whisper since she wasn't sure if she could speak without showing signs of sadness or pain if she spoke any louder. She waited for him to yell or punish her for her stupid mistakes, being used to it from her old commanding officer but didn't know what Greg would do.