trade this life for something new}DEKKER

[dessi]

you’ve shown me eventually what you’ll do.

It was not the typical sunny Texas day that Dessi had been expecting. While the mid-morning sun hung lazily in the sky, sending mostly warming rays down through the atmosphere, its scorching fingers failed to set the temperatures a-blaze, the mercury on thermometers failing to rise above fifty degrees. Standing in the driveway, her dark brown gaze was fixed on the road, searching for a large horse trailer, praying her ‘vet’ did not arrive before the horse. Wrapping her coat tighter around her body she shivered and brought her hands up to her mouth, trying to bring back some feeling into the frozen extremities. After what seemed like forever, the truck and trailer finally pulled in, she could hear the horse in the trailer raising all kinds of hell, kicking and flailing about like a little monster begging to be let loose. As the driver’s truck stalled then turned off, a short, stouter man than Dessiree hopped out of the cab and walked over to her with a bundle of papers in his squatty hands.


She eyed him for a moment as he made his way towards her.


Reaching out an accepting the papers as he handed them to her, she looked at them. Documents on shipping, the final bill of sale, a liability waver. Wait, what? She looked at the last paper again, narrowing her eyes, she looked at the man, and he assumed he knew what she was questioning.
“Just saying whatever happens to you before you buy this damn horse is not our responsibility.”
Puzzled (as if confused that a full sibling to Witch Doctor could possibly be dangerous), she asked,
Well, has he done anything lately?
The man looked back at the trailer as the clearly agitated horse began to kick at the trailer once more,
“Nope, but I don’t wanna play EMS or something stupid like that.”
At his comment, Dessiree couldn’t help but smile to herself, she already had her own nurse.


Now, whether or not he’d tolerate her latest stunt was beyond her powers of assumption, but she could only hope so.


Watching with concerned eyes as the man walked away to unload the horse she had sporadically sought to own while she had been ‘crippled’, she began to wonder how she could get around the horse’s lineage until after Dekker had vetted the animal. Sure, she was playing dirty, but her reach of trust could only go so far, her mind barely able to comprehend the fact that he simply cared for her and didn’t want to see her hurt (a concept she rarely understood anyway). It had been a mostly smooth few months, the brutal summer (the beginning of their ‘friendship’) had passed, and now reaching into the frigid arms of fall she did not know where to go, confused as to why it was lasting so long even though they had already established the fact that nothing she had done in the past or would possibly do in the future could run him off.


Yet.


Instantly, at the sounds of hell breaking loose from the back of the trailer, she came around just in time to see a handsome chestnut stallion theatrically leap off the trailer, dragging his helpless handler down the ramp. He looked nothing like his older sister, but the twinkle of knowing in his eyes gave him away. A rush of adrenaline took over as she strode closer to the animal, tentatively taking the lead rope and holding her ‘new’ horse for the first time, simply grinning. What a magnificent animal. Unfortunately as far as his family’s behavior went, pretty was as pretty does. Dessi in the back of her mind, knew that Witch Craft would be no exception. Gently petting his soft velvet nose she watched as the man closed up his trailer and left, perhaps worried that if he lingered any longer she’d want to return the evil chestnut stallion.


But Dessiree never gave up on such a challenge.


Two-thirds of the party had already arrived, they were simply waiting on Dekker to come and tell her he was not lame and that she could sign the check and bill of sale and make the beat her own…provided the idiot did not do something that would give away his inherited ‘evil’ nature half way though, thus causing Dekker to not wish to vet the horse. While she could always find another vet, she didn’t know how many vets would willingly come out to a farm (since she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to get the three year old on a trailer anytime soon agai) for her. After all, a few months of smooth friendship and scattered movie dates had assured her that Dekker would come out to vet a horse.


So long as he was not aware that it was a ‘Witch’ baby.


The sound of a truck pulling into the drive made the chestnut stallion raise his head higher and stand stock still, nostrils quivering. Looking over she instantly noticed his truck and softly smiled, putting all reminders of ‘betrayal’ on her behalf of their friendship into the back of her mind, as he climbed out of his truck she said,
Took you long enough, I was worried I was going to start losing some fingers and toes to the cold before you decided to get here.
Her smile was bright, hopeful, welcoming.


Praying Craft would behave for the better part of the hour.

---

o911
notes: LULZ. 911 words, 911…what Dekker’s gonna have to call when she first rides the beat 8DDDDD GIVING HIM A HEART ATTACK IS HER WAY OF SAYING ‘I CARE’.

[rivalo]

i just shut down
there's still too much to learn,
just so much to learn



DEKKER

[/SIZE][/size][/center]

Ever day Dekker tried to wake up with a positive attitude, respect for the past, placing himself in the present, while remaining hopeful for the future. He didn’t start his days out with a negative attitude if he could help it, but this morning had proved to be a trying one. He’d been due to meet Dessiree at Crossfire around ten a.m., but as his large white work truck rolled down the interstate at around seventy five miles per hour the clock was pushing at fifteen past. He had another ten minutes or so to go, so he showed no signs of slowing. He’d gotten an emergency call early in the morning, around four actually, having him dressed and on the road by four fifteen to reach the distant barn by five. Somebody’s plow mare had managed to get herself tangled in a load of rusty barbed wire which wasn’t completely unusual for him to see, but the fact that she was due to foal the following spring had made it trickier for him. The owner was fretting around like a fool having a heart attack while Dekker tried to work with the already unsettled mare. He had to find the right meds that wouldn’t interact with the foal negatively while getting her stitched up as quickly as possible. The damn farmer’s wife was so obstinate and panicky, though, by the time he’d left there he was in a sour mood. Fortunately for him, though, they’d had cash on hand and had tipped him quite nicely for his time. He’d have to report it to his senior vet, obviously, but it still was nice.

He pulled off the exit towards Crossfire, his mind letting go of the stressful morning and refocusing on the horse Dessi was bringing in. He figured it was a good idea for her to have another to ride considering she seemed to have such a thing for that insane horse of hers, so he was looking forward to what she was so excited about bringing into the barn. As he pulled into the parking lot he could see her standing alone with the horse watching the diesel closely as he parked it not far from them. He was a stunning creature, bright as a copper penny and with conformation to boot. He didn’t look old at all from the way he was built and the fire in his eyes, so that was the first troubling tick to go down in Dekker’s book. So she opted for a youngster instead of a horse with a little bit of brains in its head. What did he expect? He grinned as his steel toed work shoes hit the pavement, forgetting that he had the mare’s blood smeared across the front of his checked shirt. It had been quite bad he realized, she’d needed a hell of a lot of stitches and had a lot of stall time to look forward to, but he’d been more bothered by the owner than the horse.

Her sharp words were laced with a mix of excitement at her new horse and playfulness at him in general, but it was her smile he noticed the most. As the months had gone by since they’d first met he had only felt himself growing closer to Dessi, even if she didn’t feel it herself. In her defense she had a whole hell of a lot to think about, so he was more than happy to just be her friend for as long as she needed. Every time he saw her smile, though, he couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear and he could only hope it wasn’t completely obvious that he adored her. ”You Texans, big pansies!” he said in response, laughing in good nature at her. Being from Wisconsin, he was no stranger to the cold; this was practically kayaking weather in his opinion. ”I had a busy morning, sorry I’m late.” he said with an eye roll and a briefly annoyed expression to indicate that it was a story not worth bothering with. Unless she was curious about the blood across his front. Good thing he’d washed up pretty thoroughly before leaving the farm and that this - stallion, eh? - only needed to be evaluated on a basic level or else he’d have to find another shirt.

He sighed, ”Good morning by the way!” he said cheerily with a happy smile, ”So this is him, huh?” he said appreciatively, looking at the obviously high strung colt with a critical eye. He had amazingly correct and strong legs (if he thought about it legs he’d seen before), as well as a deep chest and a handsomely shaped back end. He wasn’t as muscular as he had the potential to be, but since the colt was only a three year old Dekker wasn’t surprised; youngsters of his age should only just be getting started. It would be interesting to see how he looked in a year or two with some serious training. ”He’s gorgeous, Dessi. Want to take him just to there,” he said, pointing to the far railing that lined the parking lot, ”and bring him back? Just walk him first, he seems pretty excited. Besides, sometimes they limp in one gait and not in another.” he stepped back to watch Dessi gather the colt up and he observed the pair with a somewhat amused expression. The look on the colt’s face nearly matched Dessiree’s. She was tickled as hell to have this colt, evidently. ”What’s his name?” he asked, though his voice sounded occupied as he watched the young stallion move very carefully.

[/SIZE][/blockquote]

[dessi]

you’ve shown me eventually what you’ll do.

There may have been a time when she was younger and not as numb to the world when the single idea of betraying a friendship would have been something far from her mind, something she would never dare to do, something that she would rather die than commit. Sure, she ‘respected’ Dekker to some extent, but since she was busy denying the growing emotional need she felt forming for him, the farthest thing from the top of her ‘not to do to friends’ list was betraying someone to get something done. In fact, as the days wore on, she began to wonder how much harder she could lean on him as support. Whether or not he was aware of it, Dessi was slowly placing all of her requirements in him, transferring needs from one thing (or person) to the next, and now she was growing dependant on him. However, she could tell the way he smiled when she smiled that there was some degree of mutual acceptance and desire brewing between them. Either way, whether she’d like to admit it or not, she needed (or was it borderline obsessed or love) him more than she’d like to believe.

More than he’d know.

Wary eyes took in his stature, from his dirty boots and jeans to his blood smeared shirt. She made a face as he drew nearer and curled her lip in a feigned disgust,
Surely you could have come to the barn in a non-bloody shirt? I would have appreciated that, now your generally admirable presence is ruined for me because instead of paying attention to anything else I’ll be staring at the blood.
She then shot him a big ‘just kidding’ grin and winked at him, not troubled by the blood at all (she had a strong stomach). At the end of her lead rope, she could feel Craft’s energy bunch up as the vet approached, his muscles hardening and ears perking forward, nostrils quivering as he took in the new person (or maybe it was the blood that suddenly got his three year old panties in a wad). She tensed up as well for a second, fearing that he’d fly off the handle and blow his cover, but there was already a slight bit of apprehension in Dekker’s eyes that told her he was already wary of the strapping copper colt.

For now, she could only hope the a-hole behaved.

Like any good client, when he instructed her to walk the horse about, she nodded lightly, smiling from ear to ear as he complimented her new horse-to-be, at least he wasn’t too terribly suspicious just yet. Craft’s ears swiveled about as he politely moved forward like a gentleman, with a demeanor that she didn’t believe was possible for the Witch line. Throughout the entire vetting process, Dessiree’s hopes for the colt’s future as a non-psychotic horse seemed promising as he behaved like a little man, politely picking up each foot for Dekker to flex then trotting off nicely after he set the leg down. Lucky for her, not a single sign of lameness showed up in the flexion tests and she waved aside the x-rays, confident that there was nothing beneath the surface that could possibly make her not want the horse.

In fact, she was so engrossed with everything that she had forgotten the shipping papers precariously placed in her jacket’s pocket, papers that had his full name and pedigree on them.

Just as it looked like she was going to get away with it all, behind them one of the grounds keepers started up a lawn mower, causing Craft to leap into the air (a move his sister had preformed many times, a move Dessi was not surprised he could perform) then spun around quickly to face the noise, ears perked, tail raised, eyes a-blaze. Busy trying to calm the beast of burden, she did not notice that his shipping papers had slipped from their cozy home in her pocket and now fluttered gracefully to the ground, something that caused Craft to snort at, his neck arching, unable to reach them from where she was standing (and worried Craft would do something else), she could only watch and wear the expression of a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar and pray Dekker didn’t yell too loud.

---

o724
notes: sucky post D:

[rivalo]

i just shut down
there's still too much to learn,
just so much to learn



DEKKER

[/SIZE][/size][/center]

Her jokes only managed to warm his heart and he did nothing but smirk in response. It would not have been very Dessi if she hadn’t made some kind of comment on his appearance. She was lucky that he adored her or else it might have irritated him given the way the morning went, but it always seemed with Dessi that it didn’t much matter. He could see the funny side of a situation with her. She grinned and he smiled back, again unable to control himself. He watched as the colt moved and was again struck by the correct way the youngster was built and knew she had a seriously classy horse on her hands. He seemed to behave like a gentleman for the most part, especially considering he was not only young but still fully intact. He didn’t see too many three year old stallions of his caliber who didn’t have a handler practically dangling from its head every other step. With correct training, obviously that was rarely necessary, but when a horse was this well bred most of the time people worried about making more like him. In a large breeding facility, the basics were often just barely covered before they’re pushed out into the showing world.

They covered the colt from top to bottom, doing flexion tests and taking the scans which might show where he could have been injected with nerve blocks, down to a few of the quickest blood tests to a few of the ship-away sort that he would get back in a week. There was no reason not to take every precaution. She likely will have purchased the horse by the time the results came back, but Dekker was looking for more obscure things like genetic issues that could be problems down the line. They both were rather engrossed in the whole process and so said little, but it was a comfortable silence they shared. Both of them had a passion for horses and their well being, not to mention seemed to mesh particularly well together; they didn’t need to say anything at this point.

As Dekker walked back with the last bit of his equipment and leaned into the truck he heard a lawn mower start up suddenly, the sound grating against his ears as he hadn’t been expecting it, and as he flinched ever so slightly he heard the telltale clatter of hooves and he spun to watch as Dessi only just managed to dart around in response to the stallion’s abrupt movements. In the second it took for him to turn around, the stallion had managed to faced the other direction and was on high alert as to what the sound was. Dessiree appeared unharmed but of course she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing if the colt decided to get more heady than he already was. He felt pretty confident the stallion could lift her right off her feet if he wanted to. He sighed with relief as the colt visibly calmed slightly and then a fluttering on the ground caught his attention. He strode over to pick them up and, seeing the look on Dessi’s face, felt suddenly prompted to take a peek at what she’d dropped.

Sure enough, they were ‘Witch Craft’’s registration papers including full pedigree. She had purchased Witch’s brother for reasons unbeknown to himself. Well, then again, as he looked at the colt’s papers with an expression of disappointment, he supposed he did know why she would purchase another of Witch’s bloodline. She liked the danger of it all. He obviously didn’t like the danger of it all because he didn’t like her in danger, but as usual that didn’t much matter to her. A faint tinge of bitterness rose into his heart and he wondered what he would have to do to make her understand that if she got hurt, so did he. Even better, what could he do to make her care that it hurt him? His eyes closed and he shook his head, looking up at the guilt ridden woman as she stood with the stallion still looking excitedly over in the roaring machine’s direction. ”Well at least he is still young. Maybe he will have more sense that all the other horses he’s related to.” he said with disappointment, unable to hide the emotion from his tone. ”He showed enough good character already I suppose. Especially for a three year old stallion, much less a Witch stallion. Maybe he’ll grow out of it and into some sense.” he finished, offering a tired look to her before turning away and back to his truck. He gathered the rest of his equipment and secured it all perfectly.

He took his time and it lasted all of maybe thirty seconds or so, but it was all he needed to get himself under control. With a good jaw clench and a slightly over-zealous close of the back doors was enough to catch his cool again. He turned back around to face her and the colt and then walked slowly up to them both and reached out quietly to stroke his handsome neck while murmuring softly to him. Then, he pried the rope from her small hands and prompted him to move, something he wasn’t very eager on doing. He tugged, likely expecting the strength of Dessi and instead getting Dekker’s more powerful pull and so obliged after a good head fling and half rear. Dekker led him around the truck and came back again, making the youngster focus on something else and thus making him come to terms with the fact that the lawn mower wasn’t all there was in the world. With the colt’s powerful body striding next to Dekker in a more than eager fashion, he could only hope the youngster wouldn’t do anything to Dessi like his sister had. Moving back to Dessi now with his blue eyes more weary than before, he calmly handed her the rope and then spoke up with a less agitated voice. ”Besides his obvious charms, what would possibly make you want to buy Witch’s intact brother when you’ve hardly got a handle on the mare?” he asked calmly, his arms folding as he struggled to maintain his anger. He could never be angry at her, but for once he wanted to try sustaining it long enough to get a point across.

--------------

comments: ah thought it was lufferly. ^^

[/SIZE][/blockquote]

[dessi]

you’ve shown me eventually what you’ll do.

The no strings attached syndrome had started when she had been kicked out of her house, but did not take full effect until after she checked herself out of rehab. Dessiree had a faint idea that the second her mother closed the door in her face that she no longer had any moral obligations tying her to the earth, no family, no friends, no loves to hold her down and keep her from doing stupid things that could potentially kill her like buying crazy horses to ride or running a red light or driving too fast. She was a free bird whose clipped wings had grown back, giving her a whole new world of dangerous stunts to explore, as if the risk of dying every time she stuck that needle into her veins wasn’t enough. She’d experienced the pain of a needle’s prick.

Suddenly, she was hungry for more.

If a professional psychiatrist was to evaluate their behavior, they’d probably deem her unfit to live on her own without the proper supervision of a trained nurse; someone to keep her from trying to kill herself on a daily basis. However, it took a strange person to understand her. Dessi was not into what she was into to kill herself; death was the opposite of her views, considering her main motto was to live her life to its fullest potential (albeit a sometimes deadly opinion). In a way, she knew her limits…at least; she had run across the proverbial threshold a couple of times before, but in her typical style, she blew off the warning signs and kept on rolling.

For the most part.

Obviously recent circumstances had stopped her in her tracks, but she had to wonder who Dekker thought he was to keep her from doing what she had been doing for years. It was admirable, and who was she to complain to finally have someone in her life attempting to put her back on the right path, the path she should have been on all along but failed to catch the general flow of the crowd. In a way she was getting tired of unpredictably bushwhacking her way through life and wouldn’t mind a patch of stability. Still, she didn’t feel as if she was done with her ‘wild’ streak just yet. If he was hoping she’d calm down sometime soon, he’d be waiting a long time. Either he waited for her to quit her insanity phase or hung around until something particularly emotionally or physically painful occurred, inherently forcing her off her path and onto the right road, it’d take a lot more than quite sit down talks to drag her back to the right side.

Yet, she couldn’t help but tremble lightly at what would unfold.

Curiosity killed the cat as he took up interest in Craft’s papers, his eyes grazing over the information, his brain processing the situation, his eyes conveying everything she needed to know before he could even speak. The second he spoke however, she could hear the disappointment in his voice, raising her blood pressure. Her thoughts broke loose as she gripped Craft’s lead rope as Dekker stalked closer, only to have the soft cotton wrenched from her hands, simply watching as he took her horse from her, for a second she wondered if he was going to load him up into a trailer and send him away. For a second, she considered hitting the ground screaming and crying like a three year old.

For a second, she forgot that her tears generally didn’t get her anywhere (and she had failed to take note that Dekker was silently doing anything he could to keep her smiling).

A jolt of relief surged through her heart as she saw him turn around and walk the chestnut colt back to her, almost like a hungry child she snatched back the rope the second he held it out to her, fearing if she let it hang there for too long he’d change his mind. His words drifted through the chilled morning air, she narrowed her eyes as he scolded her like he would a little child. Had he not learned anything when they had talked about her ‘history’? A muscle in her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth, not reacting well to his scolding. Biting the side of her cheek for a moment she fired back with,
I’m still buying him.
Perhaps the worst rebuttal in the history of all her arguments. Not leaving him much room to argue she turned off to put Craft into his stall, reappearing a few minutes later to stand a respectable distance from him, feet spread shoulder width, arms crossed, chin raise.

That be a fighting stance.

Biting her tongue to keep from flying off the handle over something she created, she simply stared at him for a few seconds, her deluded mind attempting to determine why he was still trying to help, all the signs that were pointing to mutual attraction had been blindly looked passed. Or more like denied. While she had accepted his help, agreeing to completely let him into her life was a quick step closer to a place in her life that she wasn’t sure she was emotionally (physically…yes) prepared to approach, her voice was dark with lack of understanding, strained and confused,
I don’t understand. What is it to you what I do? You’re not my keeper, I’m my own person, so I’m buying a horse, so what?

---

o915
notes: oh what a crappy post

[rivalo]

i just shut down
there's still too much to learn,
just so much to learn



DEKKER

[/SIZE][/size][/center]

With the horse placed back in her stubborn hands, he rolled his eyes as she obstinately said she still intended to buy him. As she stomped away his arms crossed and he shook his head while turning away to sigh out his frustration. Things had been going so well over the past few months, and now it was like she had regressed right back into reckless behavior. Messing around with Witch ought to be enough for her; why did she have to go off and do something like this all of a sudden? Was it something he had done without realizing it? Had he been scaring her with his desire for friendship? He’d gone into the relationship well aware of what he was getting; a long long road of recovery, and the potential that she would throw him out eventually. He didn’t expect her to change; he liked her wild and seemingly untamable nature, and didn’t want that to go anywhere. However, he did want her to care for herself and, eventually, to care for him, too. ”I didn’t say anything about you buying him, of course you’re still going to buy him.” Dekker muttered moodily to the air before the sound of Dessi’s foot steps could be heard stomping childishly back in his direction. She stood a defensive distance away with legs spread in an offensive position. Her arms crossed and her expression equally dark, it was obvious she was quite offended by the words he’d offered her.

She was really quite adorable, he mused to himself, seeing her small statured self all braced for a big fight with her lip practically poking out angrily. The brisk fall air moved her hair in a way that made his resolve begin to crumble, but he kept his face straight and expression serious. This was no time to get his feet swept out from underneath himself; this was a serious matter. He was willing to accept the presence of this stallion because she chose it, and whatever she chose was what he wanted. He wanted her to know he wasn’t going to judge her for her decisions, not in a way she would dislike anyway, but that he was willing to work with them. To a certain extent anyway.

Her voice cut through his thoughts and he was almost struck dumb by the questioning she offered. Even more, her tone showed that she was more than serious about what she said! Was she really so ignorant to his feelings for her that she had no clue that he cared? Aside from the passion he felt for her, was she really so ignorant to their friendship? Perhaps she had never had a real friend, he reasoned to himself. Maybe she just know that caring is always involved. Did that mean she didn’t care about what happened to him at all? ”I can’t believe you’re asking me that.” he said bluntly, his arms crossing in response and his own stance altering into one similar to hers. ”You are your own person, I am not your keeper, but I am your friend.” He said, emphasizing the word while leaning forward ever so slightly. ”Did it never occur to you that I might care for your well being? And that you could get hurt messing with horses like this and that it would bother me that you could get hurt?” There was a hint of incredulousness to his words to suggest he was legitimately shocked that she hadn’t come to this conclusion on her own. Obviously it wasn’t about buying a horse; it was about wanting to take care of herself.

”I don’t care if you buy a horse, you can buy a hundred horses for all I care, I just want you to have some kind of regard for yourself and the people who care for you. The person, being myself, who cares for you.” Obviously he was bluntly telling her that he cared for her, but at this point he didn’t expect her to take it in a manner that suggested he cared more than casually. If she hadn’t figured out already that he completely adored her then she wasn’t about to change at all in that aspect. He was patient, he could wait, and he didn’t mind doing it. He would wait forever, he had decided, or at least until she’d hurt him so much it felt like he had nothing left. Fortunately for her, he was resilient, and for him this journey was just beginning. She was stubborn and he was stubborn; a potentially dangerous mix, but in his mind he was the good kind of stubborn. It made him stronger.

The sun peeked out from behind clouds typical for the season and warmed the top of his head and, characteristically, he found himself idly hoping it warmed her up a bit to be touched by the sun’s rays. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head all the time? Even in what was turning out to be a fight of some kind he hoped she was warm enough, comfortable, safe; she constantly made it harder for herself. He was determined to change her state of mind, one way or the other. She wouldn’t get rid of the horse, he knew that, but he needed to know that the second he left her alone she wouldn’t do something stupid. Like buy a stallion who may or may not be insane when she already has one of similar temperament to deal with. He needed to get her on the back of his own mare; if only she liked a horse being energetic and responsive instead of insane and reactive.

[/SIZE][/blockquote]

NOOO it's a good post ^^

[dessi]

you’ve shown me eventually what you’ll do.

Dissociation. It is described in psychology as the brain’s way of dealing with what it can’t survive. Normally it would entail a shut off of the brain and subconscious actions take over or even complete shutdowns of the entire functions, causing the being to invert into themselves and become unresponsive. It was how POW’s made it, how soldiers did it, how those who have experienced horrors have managed to retain a tiny string of sanity, and occasionally how abused children and adults maintain their survival. It takes years of therapy to counteract, countless hours to draw the individual from their safe-shell, thousands of patient moments are required by any loved ones to stay near, and tons of determination to see a full recovery.

But Dessiree was no POW, no soldier, no witness to any man-made (or natural) horror, nor could she adamantly cry wolf of abuse.

Rather, her mind’s way of making up for the rejection she associated with most people and close relations over a period of time was to shut down and block out all forces of help and react the same way to every single situation regardless of the person’s true intent simply because she felt safer that way. The amount of people daring enough to even snap her out of her state had been slim to none in the passing years, most of them giving up before she could even start, throwing in the towel the second the going got tough, but Dekker was different.

The second the going got tough, he continually stood his ground and set his jaw in a stubborn line, daring her to continually make the same decisions.

Unlike so many other times before, Dessi did not want Dekker to go away, she wanted him to stay right where he was. She realized how much he adored her; she hoped he noticed how much she was trying to adore him (in her own special words and methods). In a sense, she was improving; the space of conscious active thought between such mental breakdowns was growing. For example; the current fight she had picked was at least a month late. It was a sure sign that she was growing, right? And while it was a futile attempt, in her defense, Dekker was throwing her things she had yet to remember how to deal with left and right, leaving her with the last resort of dissociation with the world and curling back up into her ball. So, while he was trying to help, he was hindering the recuperation further.

And Dessi was somehow ok with that.

The second she spoke, she saw the genuine hurt in his eyes, astonished that she thought she’d even have to bother to answer such a question, and instantly she regretted her words and cursed her instinctive reactions. Dessiree knew full well that he was here to help, that he wanted nothing more than to see her happy. They both knew she would not be happy with her new buy, but Dessi was far too stubborn to admit what she should, leaving Dekker out to play the parent and remind her that setting herself up for failure and physical pain wasn’t a smart idea. She sheepishly shrunk back as he rebutted her statements, looking down at her feet and curling her jacket tighter around her body wishing she could just shrink away.

His words seemed to leave her with the need to apologize and explain.

Chewing her cheek and biting back tears of disappointment in herself she lifted her chin and looked him square in the eye, still rounded her shoulders and kept her knees partially bent in an almost submissive position, discarding all previous animosity in her voice she quietly muttered into the warming mid-morning air,
You’re right…I’m sorry, sorry.
The clouds covered up the sun again, and the wind picked up, blowing leaves in front of her, scattering across the ground. There was a light tremor in her body as she could feel the cold gnawing at her skin, realizing that her jacket wasn’t warm enough. Sighing she studied him, wondering what was going through his head, so inherently fascinated with his thought process and reason for decisions that he made. A selfish streak shot through her heart, wondering if he was thinking of her; hoping he was thinking of her. Not quite the jealous type, it was as if she was finally beginning to realize that she had someone who cared, and there was no one and no one thing in the world that would make her allow them to drift apart.

Not now, not after all the secrets he knew.

Greedy, she wanted him all to herself, she wanted his comfort and caring, his patience, his time, his attention, his heart, soul, and mind. Without thinking, all defenses dropped as she brainlessly stepped forward and quickly closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his torso for the first time, burying her face into his bloody shirt, almost in the way a child would hug their angry parent in a way to cheer them up, but she knew it wasn’t exactly like that. Turning her head to the site she closed her eyes and mumbled,
I’m just so used to not having anyone looking after me…

---

o882
notes: OH HOW COOT.

[rivalo]

i just shut down
there's still too much to learn,
just so much to learn



DEKKER

[/SIZE][/size][/center]

She began to slowly recoil from him, a mix of defensiveness and perhaps damaged pride or realization sinking in like alcohol as it first touched a festered wound. He could only watch her slink back and keep talking, the results could go only one of two ways: good or bad. Regardless, it all needed to be said apparently. A memory returned to him suddenly and as he watched his favorite person cower away she was suddenly replaced with a vivid image he hadn’t known he even had. He was somewhere in the eight or nine year old vicinity and he was playing on one of the many local streets surrounding his home. He’d heard laughter nearby and had naturally gone to investigate. There were a few neighborhood boys chuckling against a wooden fence, a trash can on one side and a pile of old boxes on the other creating a square between them. One of them was a friend of his, also around that age, but the others were about twelve. As he neared he saw matches strewn across the ground and smelled a most acrid scent that made his sensitive young nose curl in disgust. As he approached, the boys pulled him in to join in the fun, but he was shocked to see a small animal bleeding on the ground pressing intself against one of the many boxes in effort to disappear. Its ears had been lopped off and were bleeding profusely down into its eyes and ear canals, most of the fur missing from its back and face and replaced with bloodied welts. He didn’t even know what it was.

Screaming wildly, he’d begun kicking and punching in every other direction and obviously didn’t do as much damage to the older boys as they did to him, but they left a short time later. The little animal looked up at him through what was left of its swollen eyes and promptly tried to attack him when he scooped it up. Several bites and scratches later, it was revealed to be a kitten. He carried it home to a shocked mother and it became his companion for all six days of the remainder of its tiny life. That had been the beginning of his veterinary career, and the determination to prevent that kind of thing from happening again. Returning to the present, Dessi had shrunk away from him much like that little kitten had done. It had been kicked and burned and nearly destroyed, but after a little biting it had submitted to him in acceptance that he wasn’t out to kill it, too. It had died in the best conditions of its life, but had never been able to enjoy it. Dessi had been biting back for a long time; he hoped she wouldn’t continue the trend now.

Then, she spoke.

Surprise was the first emotion promptly followed by a mix of hope and confusion; he hadn’t expected her to apologize so quickly, but then what could she say to him when he’d been so honest to her? Suddenly, she crossed the space between them and for the first time her slender arms wrapped completely around his midsection and clasped tightly, as if she would never let go again. Her head was pressed firmly to his shirt front and he looked down in shock as he was hit with her intoxicating scent, and struck with how it felt to have her so close to him. His heart leapt promptly into his throat and excitement coursed through his veins and he gently wrapped his muscular arms securely around her in return. He had never been so close to her before, not since that day on her floor when he’d touched her face, but even then he hadn’t been this close. He smiled softly at the top of her head where she couldn’t see, working to hide the pleasure in his voice as he began to speak. I guess I forgive you. he said with only a small amount of jest; he was mostly being serious, though the fact that she was wrapped around him made it much more difficult to be upset with her. Hesitantly, he placed his cheek atop her dark hair and closed his eyes, unsure how long it would be before this happened again.

She smelled better than flowers. Better than sweet feed on a winter morning. Better than his mother’s cooking could ever be. Even more, she felt better than winning, better than riding his horses, and better than the satisfaction of seeing a lame horse walk again. He got lost for a second, feeling the warm of her against him, but when she murmured quietly that she wasn’t used to having someone to look out for her his eyes opened and he smiled again. Well I guess you’ll just have to get used to it. he said with a chuckle, I don’t intend to be run off by a crazy colt. he said with much more joking than seriousness even thought it was true. He was sure glad the blood was dried on her shirt now because he would be quite embarrassed if she got it all over her face. Even worse he now realized she was probably just smelling him all sweaty and bloody and disgusting; why couldn’t this have been a normal morning where showers and aftershave were involved?! He sighed contentedly anyway; nothing could ruin this moment between them. Gathering his balls up to be kicked, he figured now was better than never. Dessi, do you want to have dinner with me this weekend? he asked, not moving his cheek from the top of her head in the slightest. I mean, like a planned dinner, not like you having dinner with me like we do all the time. Well, maybe that would ruin the moment. A little bit of progress and he runs right over it and gets too rushy. Good job, Dekker. Good job. Or we could just say fuck it and play with that colt of yours. he said flippantly before he made things awkward. Good save, Dekker. Good save. Give her an out so everything isn’t completely ruined.

[/SIZE][/blockquote]

[dessi]

UMMM. soo...she says yes and we can skip to dinner then her getting crushed? C:

cuz i'm easily bored xDDDD

[rivalo]

lol SURE! xD