A kiss with a fist [Esmeralda/Elkstep]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Esmeralda did not mind so much. Above her, the sky was catching on fire, the sun melting into the horizon far, far from her in a messy puddle of red, orange and pink, and it was beautiful. She loved sunsets and sunrises and she loved the night even more than both of those events. But the sun's disappearance brought the cooling of the air, the wind picking up so it whistled not only in Esmeralda's ears, but in her fur, between her whiskers, through her bones. Tonight would be cold. She would not get to travel very far because of it. And that's why she began to walk faster. She missed her sun. The sun of her city. It was a giant ball of excruciating heat and Esmeralda had only felt cold when her father went on a raid and forbid her to accompany him. Even the sewer water was pleasantly warm between her toes, whenever she waded in it. Here, up where the sun stayed in the distance, in the land of snow, everything was always cold. Esmeralda's short fur could not bear it. But she could not bear to rest even more. She loved the deep, dark, wide sky and the glittering stars across its face. She loved the noise of the forest. It was only during the night, after all, that all the creatures came unabashed from their homes, and the trees became skyscrapers, the wild wood transformed into the city of her memories. She was comforted-- less homesick-- when the night was here. To rest and miss it all would be criminal. But she needed to be realistic. Do not dream away your health, Bernardo would say if he was around, for her elder brother was a worrywart. She needed to find shelter and warmth or she would freeze. And so she wandered onward, searching for a land where the trees were not sparse. There were rolling plains where she was now, with trees scattered like grazing sheep, standing stoic, almost bored. She thought she saw forest ahead-- A scent traveled on the wind. Faint. Weak. But it caught her memory and for a moment she was in the city and a cat was pressed a little too close to her, his breath in her ear. No. She switched direction, turning on her paws and bolting toward the scent, easily tracking it now that the memory was recalled, filling her with the cat's smell-- she would know that smell anywhere, city or no. The smell of water also filled her nostrils-- the strong stench of a territorial cat-- and she knew she was approaching some cat's territory, though she hardly gave two mousetails. She slowed her run as the rush of the stream met her ears and sure enough there he was-- Holliday. The sight of him shocked her into paralysis, her small, graceful paws stilling on the grass, ears flicking down. For a second, she was simply in awe of him. Her eyes grew into large emerald moons and she could not take in enough of the sight of him-- a ghost. He was a ghost! An espíritu haunting her, clinging at her heels only to dig into her heart with its phantom teeth and remind her of the cat who left her when she needed him the most. The thought swelled inside her and overwhelmed the shock-- he left her! He left her andnow he was here, like a wounded rabbit laid across her path, hers for the taking and the crushing. He. Had. Left her! With a screech, she split the air in two and broke into a run, pouncing on Holliday without even a thought. The sunset, ahead, was all she could see-- blinding orange and red-- and it burned in her blood as she eagerly digged her claws into the traitor before her. [bg=3e0515][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Pyro]

The sun was sinking low on the horizon, its fiery light catching ever so slightly on the waters of the stream that marked the MeadowClan border. It was about time for Elkstep to be heading back to camp with the prey he'd caught that day but as always he lingered. It was odd. Living with other cats again, that is. It was odder still, living with this particular group of cats. He'd been attracted first by the beautiful women- well fed, nice rumps, easy on the eyes...and had stayed for the new life a clan had to offer. He wasn't an aimless wanderer anymore. He could pretend he had a purpose: defending his clan. He could pretend he wasn't a dangerous outlaw, a killer born and bred. He could pretend that there was a place for him again. Well...not him. Holliday was a loner. Elkstep though, Elkstep was a clan cat. Maybe not a respectable one, but he got the job done, didn't he? "Who'm I kidding?" Everyone in the clan, certainly. Shrewstorm...Hawkheart...No one knew what he'd been, what he still was deep down inside. The only one he hadn't managed to convince was himself. Because he knew that a new name and a new home was just another way for him to run from his problems. But you know what? Running had worked well for him so far. He wasn't dead. He wasn't stuck with his father ranting and raving about how he'd been the death of his mother. And he didn't have to face- Her. There it was. There was her scent. He was brought back to that hot and dusty land, where the only cold to be found was in a soldier's eye. He could hear that last breath-first Raphael's, then his murderer's. A shiver ran down his spine. He'd left Mexico to avoid just this situation. He didn't want to face her again, didn't want to try to explain, didn't want to smell that scent on the breeze so tantalizingly close. That scent...those memories...he could hear Damien's words ringing in his ears. 'You don't belong here, gringo.' It was all his fault. He'd been there. He'd been right. There. Right there beside Raphael. He should've seen that cat coming, seen that Raphael was too overwhelmed to fight off yet another of Antonio's soldiers. But he didn't. And now her brother was dead. It had been so easy to kill that cat. It had been so freaking easy to do it after the fact. Why couldn't he have done it when it counted. Maybe it wasn't too late to run again. Maybe he could hightail it back to camp, lay low for a while, at least until she breezed through. But just as he got up to book it on out of there-WHAM. His face met the dirt hard. He could feel her claws digging into his flesh and he knew he deserved it. But despite the situation he couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped his muzzle. "We don't see each other for moons, and this is the greeting I get, princess?" speaking [bg=000000][atrb=width,428,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

It was not often that little, sleek Esmeralda pinned a tom to the ground. But rage did wonders for strength, and though Holliday was packed with enough muscle to easily flip her, it was her anger that gave her the advantage-- and the element of surprise. She had flung herself at him with no inhibition, with all she had in her, and the force behind her spring was enough to put him to the ground. And once he was there, she sure as hell wasn't going to let him up again. Yet as she sunk her claws into those strong shoulders, she felt tears pinprick her eyes. Who would have thought she would have been here of all places? So far from home, from her friends, her beloved Papa dead. Hunting her brother. And now drawing blood from the one cat whom she had learned to trust with her life, wholly and completely-- the one cat, who in an instant, put the first break in her heart, which would later come to shatter. After she had left Mexico in search of Damien, Esmeralda had grown numb to her struggles, her past, even the world around her. She had moved with a single purpose, her mind consumed with it. She had never interacted long with other cats. There had been a few toms who had attempted courtship, a few she-cats who offered help, a few places that might have been a nice home that had caught her eye. But she had always moved past it, hardly blinking. Hardly caring even. Seeing Holliday had, in a moment, broken all of that. Now she felt it all. Her loneliness. Her grief. Her longing for something more than what she had now, more than just the hunt. She felt it all, brimming, teetering on the edge of her anger, breaking as the wave of rage crashed through her, washing away into utter frustration of the situation she was, turning into fresh hatred toward everything, everyone. Holliday's rough purr echoed loud in her ears, the gruff, attractive tone of it stirring her wild emotions even more. His cocky attitude was just as she remembered. Once, she had found this attitude admirable. He wore it well, unlike some toms she knew, who could never back it up with tooth and claw. But now, that attitude just wore on her, felt like rough sandpaper wearing away at her fragile state of mind. How dare he try to joke with her. How dare he try to pretend like things weren't different between them. He had left her, and he had known then, that she swore to hate him. And she did. She hated him. She hated him almost too much. Her paw pushed down on the back of his head, smashing his nose into the dirt. She hoped he would choke on it. "And what else do you expect, cobarde? I've been dreaming about this moment since you turned tail and ran." she leaned close, her tail lashing behind her, and she whispered in his ear, her voice a little too controlled-- it shook with the effort. "You said it wasn't your fight, so I'm bringing the fight to you."

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[Pyro]

Now apparently Esmeralda did not think his face was friendly enough with the dirt, because she was near about crushing his face into it at this point. Not much had changed. She was still every bit the fiery she-cat he'd...met...down in Mexico. No, that was wrong. Especially after all the things he'd said to her. But he'd said them to her to avoid exactly this sort of situation. Granted, it had had more merit when he was going to track down the cat who'd killed Raphael, but he supposed it really was too much to hope that the hurt stuck just the right way to keep her away forever. And yet as much he wished she hadn't come after him, he was almost somewhat glad she had. If only because he got to see her again. He'd of rather seen her smiling...he'd do anything just to see her smile...but angry was better than nothing right? And it wasn't like he expected any cat to come after him of all asses unless they had plans to show him his own insides. So it was really just same old, same old. Just with a cat he cared too much about to defend himself against. He couldn't even bring himself to try and make an effort against her. Couldn't roll under her and kick her off so they could talk proper-like...couldn't counter-pin her...nothing. Elkstep...now Elkstep would pin her in an instant and send the intruding she-cat hissing over the border. But Elkstep, in those few short moments had become nothing more than a name. And Holliday was much more than a name. Just like Essie was much more than an intruding she-cat. Holliday was unable to fight against her, point blank, and not just because he had been warned by her father moons ago, in no uncertain terms, that if he ever caused harm to the war-hardened tom's daughter there would be hell to pay. Quite honestly, he didn't put it past Amaranto to come up all the way from Mexico, just like his daughter had, to give him the beating of a life time were he to injure Esmeralda. And that would probably be proceeded by the beating of the century for what he had done to her emotionally. "You said it wasn't your fight, so I'm bringing the fight to you." It words hit him like a punch to the stomach. He wasn't entirely used to having his own words flung back at him like that, and it only brought the memories of those days crushing back down on him all the harder. He wasn't on good terms with any one from those days, and it did more than just make him guilty. It made his chest feel tight, and it wasn't just Essie on top of him that made it hard to breath. Amaranto, Maria, Bernardo, Damien...and Esmeralda especially. He couldn't face them, any of them. And yet here she was. Here was the fabled princess of thieves, facing him, even if he couldn't face her. "Are you sure you want to do that? Last time I was in that fight I got my own br-" the words died on his lips. He coughed awkwardly before he could find his voice again. "a cat died, princess." It sounded more like a threat than he had meant it too. "You gonna kill me, princess?" It wasn't a resigned question, or even a fearful one for that matter. He said it in such a fashion that he might as well have been asking her the time of day, not that he could get that from her anymore. "I would've thought you and Damien would be comin' up together if you ever decided to off me. I know you've both been dyin' to do so since that day back in Mexico." Even as he said it he was already casting about with his ears and nose for a sign of the black and white tom. Damien had been quick to tell him just what he'd do if he ever caught him alone, besides confirming that it'd been his fault Raphael was overwhelmed, even if Amaranto didn't have the heart. "Or did you figure we'd settle this private-like, just between ourselves." He just couldn't help the edge his words had. All his old defenses were coming up, even if his fighting reflexes had gone to sleep in wake of Essie's appearance. [bg=000000][atrb=width,428,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

This son of a badger. Esmeralda wanted to sink her claws in as far as she could, into the very marrow of his bones. She wanted to slit his throat open and watch his body deflate like a balloon, his blood all over her paws. She wanted to maim him-- cut out his tongue-- so he could not use it to hurt her. Because he had hurt her. Instantly, without even knowing it. Esmeralda had lived so long inside her own grief, her own sticky world of rage and memory, that she had forgotten that Holliday was not part of her world. He had left before she had been ruined-- before the war had been "won" for lack of a better word-- before her father was slaughtered-- before Damien betrayed her and ran. He knew her not as she was now, a mercenary seeking her payment in her brother's blood, but as the Princess. She could hardly remember that she-cat; to Esmeralda, she had died with the King. She did not know how to act like that cat for Holliday now. Part of her felt the need to. To kill him as the cat he had betrayed. He did not deserve to know of the outcome of the war or of the deaths of those he once served. He probably would not even care anyway. But it was impossible to try. The very mention of Damien's name made her flinch and dig her claws into him simply on reflex, as though Holliday was her half-brother. And the idea of working with him, of traveling with him-- it made her sick. Suddenly, her whole position made her sick. Her body pressing down on top of Holliday, the fact that he was not fighting-- what was his game? Why wasn't he flipping her over? He had the strength. She knew he did. She knew that the second she had not taken advantage of her surprise attack, the moment she did not kill him right away, was the moment she gave away her advantage. And Esmeralda knew that Holliday was aware of this. That, in a fight, he would win and she would be killed swiftly. But he was not moving, not attacking, and it stirred her rage even further. Did he mean to toy with her? Did he intend to pity her, treat her then less of the soldier than she was born and bred to be? Pendejo! She deserved more respect from the likes of him! She sprang off of Holliday instantly, landing and spinning into a crouch, her green eyes slanted and shining with her rage. "Ah, that's right. You abandoned us," she hissed at him and began to circle him, her body slinking around him as graceful and smooth as a snake. "I nearly forgot that you ran just as the war was getting tough. Too scared, too indifferent, to care about cats dying in the street. But you should have stuck around. You missed the finale." The rage made each word tremble with hatred. She spat the words as if she were disgusted-- and she was. "Damien betrayed us all to Antonio. My father is dead. The war is over. And you, of course, weren't there to help."The lump in her throat grew, as finally, the real reason she was so angry at Holliday came out. Even Esmeralda didn't notice her slip, so overcome with her anger and grief. "You weren't there! You could have helped save him, but you're too selfish! You abandoned us! You abandoned me!" [bg=3e0515][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Pyro]

"Funny, princess, I didn't figure you to be a liar." It couldn't be true. It really couldn't. Damien wasn't a traitor, he was the traitor--Essie had said as much. He rolled onto his side and rose to his feet, a wary expression on his face. He was glad of the release (because really, who liked having someone dig their claws into your bones?) but inclined to think no good would come of it. And now, at last, Holliday got to get a good look at his princess. She was travel-weary...but those eyes. Those fiery eyes. They were her's. God damn, they were her's. A hint of a smile tugged at his muzzle before he remembered she was spitting mad at him. And with good reason, too. He had abandoned them, in his weakness. But hadn't he finished things? Hadn't he killed Raphael's murderer? The very idea that everything had collapsed just because he had left...he both wanted to accept that as his burden and throw it back in her face. He'd left--yes. But hadn't her brother demanded he do so? Hadn't she, in her anger, agreed with him...but he'd had to hurt her to make her cast him out. He'd hurt her. God damn, what kind of a bastard was he? "I didn't mean to hurt you." Pathetic. Weak. Was that really the best he could come up with? His eyes hardened. "But I had to. It wasn't my fight, Essie. Your brother made that perfectly clear. I was just another loner, another gringo, that blew into town and fucked things up." He turned away--as if that would help. "I thought I was doing you all a favor. But now you have to come back, and lie to me, just to rub it in my face?" A hiss escaped him, and with a jolt he realized he was mad. Mad at Essie. Mad at her for lying about her father. Her brother. Cats who had become like family to him. "I didn't leave because things got too tough. I left because you wanted me to. And you know it. I didn't belong there, and you don't belong here. What the hell are you doing up here anyway?" No, no...Freaking...WHY. Why couldn't he say things that made everything better? "God. No. I don't mean..." He wanted nothing more than to stomp and scuff around until he could think of something to say. Until he could pick himself up and out of denial and self pity...Why was he mad at her? Or was it just that he was mad at himself because everything she said was true? Everything she said was true. It had to be. How could he think she'd lie about..."They're not dead. They can't be." Ah, but why else would she be here? "You can't be here." [bg=d6d5ae][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Holliday's words cut through her as cold and hard as steel. They hissed and burned in Esmeralda's heart, her whole body tightening as they were repeated in her mind. Liar, he had called her. He had accused her of lying about her own father's death and by doing so, Esmeralda's hurt and grief were suddenly trivialized, mocked, as nothing more than what-- a show? Simple, dirty trickery? And so the truth of his feelings were finally revealed-- this is what Holliday thought of her. That she was nothing more than a commonplace sewer rat. His words spat at her existence, at her birth and way of life, but mostly at her father and his sacrifice. And that was the highest injustice of them all. With every word Holliday said in his attempt to turn the blame to her, she felt her grief and misery belittled and squashed under his dirty gringo paws-- paws which were, in Esmeralda's opinion, marked with her father's blood. With every sneer, he denounced Amaranto's death. Esmeralda could barely breathe with rage at this thought. She had to dig her claws into the dirt to anchor herself in place so she did not spring at him again and tear his filthy fur off his filthy body "How dare you insult his death! How dare you insult me!" Esmeralda yowled. "I watched him die! I see it over and over everywhere I turn-- and you accuse me of lying?" "No, mi amigo," her voice was shaking. "You are the liar here, not me. You lied to yourself the day you turned tail and ran. Not your fight!" she scoffed and spat at Holliday's feet. "What a cruel, cruel lie. If you thought such a thing to be true, you would have left long before Raphael died. Yes, I screamed at you when he died--I hated you so much at that time. I was so hurt. I told you to leave-- but not for a second did I mean it." She shook her head. "Not for a second did I think you would listen. Not you, you cocky, stubborn idiota. You never listened to me before anyway. I waited for days, hoping you'd show up again. But you were too much of a coward." Somehow her rage had turned into hurt. Esmeralda did not know why she was so weak-- she wanted to stay angry at him for Raphael, for Bernardo and Amaranto and for her entire city. Her city that she missed so much, with all its back-alleys and brick walls and fire escapes. She wanted to hate this rogue for her city, because in truth, that is who he abandoned. Not her, not her father, but the city, which had been relying on him from the moment he showed his stupid little gringo rump. The rest of Holliday's ramblings she could care less about. Maybe she would explain herself later, tell him of her hunt for Damien. Or maybe she wouldn't. It all depended on what came next. "Apologize to me," she raised her head, her pride returning to her as she let the rage go. "And to my city and to my dear Raphael and to my father-- especially to my father, you son of a bitch. Apologize now. Or I swear I will kill you. Even if I have to chase you down the rest of my life, I will kill you."

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[Pyro]

Apologize? His brief rage faded. In a heart beat. But...how could he find the words? What did you say after all that? Hey sorry I abandoned you in your time of need and your family was killed as a result, can we still be friends? "Now princess you know I was always a fan of lettin' action speak for itself..." And of course, his actions had already revealed him to be a coward and a disgrace. Words alone couldn't change that. "But I suppose you don't know how sorry I am because I never bothered to tell you." he dared to look Essie in the eye. "I am so sorry for what I've done to you. I tried to make it right...I killed the son of a bitch that did Raphael, and I left a little...well I figured you'd realize or remember...I tried, Esmeralda. I tried to go back, but I couldn't. And I know that don't mean much to you now, and I know my apology won't mean as much to you as you make out, but I can show you how sorry I am." He'd abandoned the little city that had been kind enough to take him in. That place had been as good as a home for him. Hell, it had been his home. More than the place where his mother died and his father took to sleeping with she-cats half his age. Aside from the brief period his mother had been alive, that had never been a happy place for him. But Mexico...and the city he found there...he had found purpose there, and enough happy times to counter the bad. And yet, when the time came to test that bond, just how much he was willing to take to defend it, he broke and ran. Broke and ran just like he had been doing all his life. It was always easier to avoid the problem than to actually confront it. Maybe they could still save it. Maybe they could still go back, kill Antonio, and rescue the city once and for all from his reign. Ha. Even as he thought it, he knew it was a half-baked plan and a half-baked thought. And leaving MeadowClan would put him in the same position he was now: he'd be abandoning a home for something else, and when it needed warriors most. Leafbare was fast approaching, and as well as the issue of finding food...there was a certain policy that needed dealing with. "I would, in a heartbeat, follow you now until I could show you the depth of my regret and somehow. Just. Just...help you in any way. Help your city, we could kill Antonio, we could kill Damien, you could kill me when it was all done if that would right the wrong I've done to you and your city." His suggestion shocked him slightly. Hadn't he just gone over how those were half-baked ideas? What was more, it was rare that he...Well hell, he'd never offered his life for something. maybe that was his problem. He was unwilling to give himself over entirely. "If only you'd wait until Winter was over, maybe a little past then- MeadowClan always has trouble with food during this time- I'd do all in my power to make it up to you. To make it up to your city. Anything. Essie, my life is your's. You know I'd always give it to you. I can't change the past, and nothing I do can bring anything that's been lost back, but I can try to at least atone for what's been done." [bg=d6d5ae][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Esmeralda was poised to attack. Her claws dug into the soil over and over, itching for a chance to dig into the cat before her. She couldn't decipher her own emotions in this moment; her rage was overwhelming, but her sorrow was nearly unbearable, and somewhere, in the middle of that mess, she felt almost happiness--relief--over seeing Holliday again. She was no fool. She knew that she had been fond of him, had relied on him. He had grown to be a part of her. His presence had become like her heartbeat. Steady. Constant. When he had left and tore out that piece of her, she had been hurt beyond all imagining, hurt worse than she would ever admit to herself, let alone the tom in front of her. Besides, her father had already tried to convince her of her feeling for Holliday, and she had already rejected his well-meaning, but unwanted advice. She had let go of Holliday soon after that. Convinced herself that he was dead. Seeing that he was not...of course she would feel some measure of relief, even if that relief was marred with her anger and hurt and renewed grief over her father's death. His apology did little to help any of those horrible emotions disappear. She still felt so raw, so battered and torn, and so tired from her journey. Could his apology bring back her father? Could it save her city? Could it make her feel happy again? Could it give her back these moons spent running and tracking and stealing as a vagabond, without a home to protect and a family to love? Now that she had finally stopped for a moment, Esmeralda finally realized that those parts of her--a home and a family-- were parts lost. She had disappeared as soon as she left her city, consumed by revenge. Hell, Damian might have killed her anyway. The Princess Thief was no more. To think that Holliday's apology would bring her back as well...well, that was foolish. She was foolish. There was nothing that Holliday could give her to right the many wrongs of her life or to make her feel like herself again. There was nothing he could say. "Antonio is dead," she said wearily. For the first time since she and Holliday had met, her claws retracted and her eyes fell to the ground. "We killed him. The war is over. Or at least...it was when I left to track down Damien. Who knows what is happening now?" She lifted her head again and gave her tail one flick. "Perhaps I left my city irreparable. Perhaps some other cat has tried to seize power. I do not know. But it is pointless to go back. There is...nothing there anymore. Certainly not for you." She scoffed at him, a bit of her fire reentering her eyes. "I have heard of these clan cats as I traveled. Who knew that my pesky little gringo would find his way into one of them? You must be so happy with your new life, in a clan where the little ones call you warrior. That's all you wanted. To be a hero. You were so good at pretending, I am not surprised you have fooled this Meadowclan of yours. But you will never fool me." "I won't take you away from your new home, Holliday. I won't even bother killing you. What good will that do me? It's much better keeping you indebted to me, in case I need you in the future. Who knows if I will...I don't even know what I want anymore. But at least having you squirming under my claws brings me some idle pleasure in this hell," she snorted. [bg=3e0515][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Pyro]

So Antonio was dead? He might have said 'good' but it'd just sound hollow. That was all he felt now, hollow. Whatever he had with Essie was gone, and all that remained was hurt, anger, and spite. Mostly caused by him, though fueled by Esmeralda it seemed. "So the princess is gone from the city, just like the gringo." He wouldn't dare accuse her of being a hypocrite, not now that she was finally calming down, but the thought had entered his mind like a poisonous barb. Had she tried to repair it? Or had she left it as easily and quickly as he had to go on this seemingly impossible quest of revenge? Ah, but it was all his fault. All his fault. Oh but her words stung. Had he always wanted to be a hero? No. He was anything but and he'd known that all his life. The only time he'd ever been foolish enough to con himself into thinking he could be one was when he'd been with her. He'dve done anything for her, and he still would. And the idea that he was happy? Well, perhaps. Yes, no, he was. He was happy. Happy that he'd found a home again...but now Essie was here and she made his happiness feel wrong. He didn't deserve it, did he? Not while she was here, hurting, damaged in soul, no home, no family...only a half-assed tom she obviously wasn't too happy to see. And why should she be? He could only shrug. "They aren't as easy to fool as you might think. They know what I am. Cedarstar knows what I've done. I told him, Essie, and I'm sure he told the rest of them." The entire conversation was tiring. He knew better than anyone that killing wouldn't bring the past back. And hadn't he already said there was nothing that could be done but balance the scales? "How dare I, hm? You'll be happy to know that many of them don't trust me as far as they can throw me, especially the clanborns. I'm sure you'd be very proud of their judgement." Her last words brought a faint smile to his muzzle. Ha. She'd always had him under her claws. Did she think this development was new? That it changed anything? He'd been wrapped around her paw from minute one, always trying to please her, always trying to win her. The only difference now was that there really was no hope of it. But how could she think that was an act? "So nothing's changed about that, then. You can't honestly believe that all that errand-running and mooning after you was pretend. What tom in their right mind would go to all that trouble just to fool one she-cat? Yes, Essie, that's how I get my kicks. I go around belly-scrapin' and interferin' with wars just so I can mess around with the first damn she-cat I see in a place. I'm really that shallow." He huffed. "Damn it woman, I know I hurt you, but you hurt me too. Only difference is your actions just didn't make a big enough splash for you to care. Or rather, they did, but it all swung my way. And believe me, I'm happy to take the blame. But you need to realize that I'm done crawling. And I'm done squirming. I'll help you, and I'll be indebted, cause God knows there's no denying I am, but I'm not going to be your toy." And how could she not know what she wanted? Essie always knew what she wanted. Always had an opinion, always had a plan. "You know what you want, Essie. You always did. You just can't see it yet this time." [bg=d6d5ae][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=border,0,true]

[Whiskers [Archive]]

Essie's eyes widened only the slightest at his comments, and she snorted lightly in amusement over his light references to his...affection for her. Oh yes, his affection! Holliday's famous affection. Lovely Raphael had called it Holliday's Achilles' Heel. "One day, he will fall for you so hard, he will not be able to get back up!" Her brother had laughed. She had always ignored her brothers and these remarks. She had no time for romance or for somebody's affection. She had her string of admirers, and she had broken her collection of hearts, but out of necessity always. Holliday...Holliday had been no different.

But he was different. She refused to acknowledge it, but he was. And his 'mooning,' as he so poetically called it, was always slightly more uncomfortable for her, his affection unsettling. He was not just another tom. He was her equal. Her...hers.

So if she had hurt him, it had only been because of her indifference to his advances, which she had always very pointedly ignored.

As for what she wanted...Esmeralda really could not see this time. She felt torn in many directions-- part of her wanted to keep following Damien's trail and kill that dirty piece of scum, while part of her was ready to just give up. She knew that she couldn't go back home though. The very thought of her city, stained in the blood of the family she had lost...it was enough to freeze her in place. But with nothing in front of her and nothing behind her, she truly did have nothing and no one.

Esmeralda pushed away those thoughts. She would get nowhere if she obsessed over them. She had to hold on to what she did have: anger. Hurt. Betrayal. These firecracker emotions were the only thing holding her up.

"Hurt you? What could I have possibly done to injure the great gringo's ego, hmm?" She stepped closer to him. "...Besides keep you in line, where you belonged," she lashed her tail, being purposefully mean now. This was not new for them. How often had they insulted each other, playfully, seriously, for the heck of it, back in those days in the city? In fact, it felt like they were finally getting back into rhythm again.

She stepped forward again, so they were almost nose to nose. "And you're wrong, Holliday," she savored the feel of his name on her tongue again, as she tilted her head and purred softly into his ear, "You'll always be my toy."