sticks and stones [westley]

[CALLA ADELPHIA ELLIS]

And through the rising and falling apart, We discover who we are

Calla needed to find some of her inner peace back. Her meeting with Cappy Sheridan had unnerved her a little, she really couldn't understand why, but he had taken up too much space in her head, ever since then, and though she didn't really seek too much behind it, it was weird to say the least. So what did she usually do when she was feeling like this? Hook up with other people, bug Weston an awful lot, or go do some martial arts practice and meditation. Especially meditation. There was something about being completely at ease and into your mind that calmed her down, helped her unlock whatever was bothering her, solve the jigsaw puzzle and give it a rest and continue her life. She was pretty solid with those things and forgot easily. It was usually what she did while being a abroad too. An hour of meditation a day, keeps the unwanted demons away.

So Calla went to the forest, the only place where she could get some peace. Not at her apartment with Jamie around, though that girl was an absolute doll and she loved her. At home was neither a good place, she had actually left there to be herself more and just fuck them and let them die in their own patheticness. Only not really. No one could hurt her family or bother them, unless she was the one to bother them. Calla would go through hell and back to save them or get even with the bastards that hurt them. Ironic, since she never really seemed to care about them otherwise. But well, some things just go past your normal loathing for people. Family will always be family, even if you hate them. They were douchebags, but they were her douchebags. Plus, she didn't hate all in her family. She needed to protect Darby, always, no matter what. Darby was so vulnerable, such a delicate little flower, and she needed to be protected. Even if she had Ryden, who Calla did geniunely like.

As the firetamer strolled through the forest, her feet laced in her black leather boots, her training outfit waving losely along her body. It was a particularly warm day, so she was wearing her boyshorts and a white tanktop, her haid pulled up in a messy bun, She was all ready for it. She needed this. As Calla reached an open spot in the forest, she got down, sitting in the lotus postiion and closed her eyes, folding her hands on her knees. Breathing in, breathing out. In. Out. Feel the flow, the energy move through her body. a big white light above her to let go off all her thoughts. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. She felt the thoughts she didn't want to have, thoughts about Cappy, about Tullia, she felt them flow away. She needed to get in the right mood, before she started her work out.

But though meditation was about shutting the environment out of your system, of your thoughts, it made you more aware of the changing air and atmosphere around you. Calla felt it. A slight shift of air that awoke her from her trance, and instead made her focus on her surroundings. Now the first thing Calla had to admit, was that she was no sensei. By all means, she was no master. But she was learning, she was trying so hard. Lately they had been working on this sort of stuff. Reflexes, being less depended on your senses, especially on your view. She could hear the leaves crackle, even if the soft footsteps were so barely audible that it could only indicate a well trained person. Most likely, that meant a hunter. Well great. Calla kept on sitting there, motionlessly as if she hadn't heard nor noticed the being at all, when suddenly a fireball shot at the tree where he was located behind. "You should really practice your sneaking up on people." The firetamer said, getting up, immediately in her fighting position. She was ready for this, so she believed. Stupid, stupid Calla.

TAG: WESTLEY. NOTES: OH BOY HERE WE GO.

[westley]

[style=width: 450px; background-color:#001177; border-bottom:10px solid black; border-top:10px solid black; font-family:century gothic; font-size:25px; color:white; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:2px; line-height:110%; text-align:Center;]in the barrel of a gun

Really, Westley wasn't out for any hunt that night. There was a path through the forest that provided him a faster way home, but that didn't mean that he would make himself vulnerable. Wherever Wes went he carried at least a gun, a few knives, bullets of the silver and wooden kind and whatever else wouldn't look conspicuous on a person. His body was feeling a little restless, if only because he hadn't delved into the blissful obilviousness that was alcohol, and he was looking forward to his bottle of Jack back at home. Westley had been on a downer lately, it was as if dark clouds followed him wherever he went, raining on his moods. He was constantly angry and frustrated, even women didn't give him as much pleasure because he was just so distracted. There was almost a mantra in his mind 'killkillkill'. Maybe it was going too far, but it was a defence mechanism. He had allowed himself a weak moment to trust one supernatural ... and that had pretty much broken him and his spirits, so he refused to give any of them a chance ever again.

With a shaky breath, the male ran a hand through his thick black hair, his blue eyes searching his surroundings. Even when out of it, the hunter knew to be alert. It was something that he did without trying any more, his awareness was constantly on a three-sixty motion and that had saved his life more than once. From a vampire who wanted to take a chomp out of him, or other creature that he shuddered to think about. Westley would rather die than get turned by any of them. Death would really be a better state to be than be one of the things he loathed the most. Naturally, his boots would make a dull thudding noise, but through his training he had learned to be soundless and invisible, no matter where he went. Blending into shadows, providing no sound, even from such thick boots. He was a professional and he knew it, and his bones itched for something... alcohol ... maybe sex ... a fight. Or all of them, not necessarily in that order.

He was never afraid when walking the woods, because he knew exactly what was out there, to every little fucked up species there were. Therefore, when a voice broke his reverie, it made his mouth quirk up the corners. He could see fire that was thrown at him from far away really, and he had time to doge. So, a fight it was it seemed. He was about to scoff. Sure, there might have been leaves that had scrunched up beneath his feet, but the arrogance of this woman was just ... amusing. But could he really call her a woman? Was she really anything other than a freak? He didn't think so. He stayed where he was, now facing the girl. Moving his hand to his jacket, Westley pulled out his gun, holding it in his hand and to the side. "You shouldn't be so arrogant as to think people would want anything from you." Wes snorted, "But now that you've given yourself away as a freak ..." His smile was cruel and sadistic, his sharp features almost demonic because his blood was rushing now... kill.

As a hunter, the first thing he would always do was evaluate the situation. She was a firetamer ... clearly ... that meant easy kill. Firetamers were almost - almost human but not quite there and what a pity that was. That her petty little life would be over because of her big mouth. "Send one more bolt of fire, and this bullet ends up in your head ..." He warned, showing his gun to her. "And I assure you, it won't be a shot you'll be able to dodge." His voice wasn't arrogant, it was cold. Kind of reminded him of his fight with Ryanna and any other supernatural. He always turned to ice mode, because there was really no point in letting any emotion to seep into something so vile. Licking his lips, Westley moved forward, so that she could see him now, because he was not afraid. His walk was confident, and there was a wicked smirk on his lips. "Really, little things like you shouldn't be out so late ... there are people they should be afraid of." He mused, and he thought that even if she knew anything about fighting ... well, she'd be no match for him, that was clear. And it was her choice whether she wanted to die right then, or live for a few more minutes.

NOTES: ERE WE GO <3 | WORDS: 779

[CALLA ADELPHIA ELLIS]

And through the rising and falling apart, We discover who we are

Calla was like a barrel full of dynamite, waiting for that one little spark to ignite all of it. She was full of energy and power and yes, probably she was a bit cocky about her abilities, even though they were to be taken into account. She was a musical and artistical prodigy and even though the talents for those things were balanced by a shit load of other issues that most certainly could not and were not denied, most of the time Calla knew what shew as capable off and what she could take. So she thought. More realistic though, her daredevil side had left her feeling weightless, unlimited and that together was very dangeous. She could be dangerous, for being a trained firetamer and martial artist was not something one should take lightly, but she was also tiny. And she wasn't the only dangerous person out there.

People hardly ever called Calla out on her behavior, and honestly would she really listen? No, she wouldn't. People loved her or hated her, but somehow the feisty firetamer had never found the fucks to give. She was who she was, she wasn't going to change for anybody but herself, now deal with it. Calla was an easygoing person if you just let her do her thing, but getting in her way was hardly a smart choice. Because the brunette was also like a tiny child when things didn't go the way she wanted them to go, throwing a temper tantrum when people did not give things to her the way she wanted them to. She was not very mature that way and maybe Calla wasn't very mature at all. She was 24, she lived on her own sure, she had a nice room mate and enough friends and income on her own, but personalitywise, was she really mature? No, she really wasn't. The Ellis did not look ahead of time, she did not care about what would happen tomorrow, because today was where it was at. A childish, rebel way of looking at things, for a tiny girl who still wanted to prove to her parents that they had no power over her. And coming from a mighty family like the Ellis, this wasn't hard to prove, since they were everywhere, trying to control everything. Not with Calla though, no no no no. Call was a free bird, who had moved out of that tangled web of lies and power, always a struggle somewhere. She had never wanted to be 'one of those Ellis' girls', no she wanted people to remember her for her. Calla Ellis, artist and musician, die hard bad ass.

When the man she was shooting her fireball at, not really to hit but more to send out a warning that she wasn't stupid and that she had seen him, a laugh escaped her throat when she called him a freak. A freak, really. "Well that certainly is a tag I haven't heard before, so at least you're original. Ten points for Slytherin." She said with a roll of her eyes, sarcasm dripping through her tone. Because obviously she wasn't really surprised by anything anymore, even if being part of a large family had basically been protecting her her entire life. And that was the part that Calla was miscalcuting here. She was doing this all on her own. The protected environment her family had given her, had made the girl irresponsible and reckless, nearly arrogant even. As if she could take down the world and not get harmed in any way. But that was bullshit, because Calla was not immortal and she certainly was not invincible. She created a couple of fireballs and started juggling around with them, just y'know, playing around. Calla was far from worried about this guy, even though probably she should be. Hunters were merely human and therefore easier to kill, but nevertheless there were still some walking around, so they weren't that easy to kill after all. But well, that wasn't even on Calla's mind, she hadn't been looking for a fight, just to be left alone, but now that there was gonna be one, she was excited. Practicing on real targets was always more fun than the fake ones. They moved, they thought and they did unexpected things. It was the thrill of the game. Not once did it cross the brunette's mind that she might lose. She didn't think it was possible.

When he appeared from his hiding place, the first she noticed was a) the gun in his hand and b) his handsome appearance. Calla was a sucker for guys with a lot of tattoos and he had that brooding image that fit a hunter. A rather bad ass, handsome hunter. That wasn't what she was currently interested though and strangely enough even if she had been attracted to him she had been able to keep that controlled. People would be surprised about the level of control Calla had over her body and mind. Not enough to be an android and switch off unwanted feelings, but she could hide them very well and just pretend it they weren't there. Like with Cappy. Goddamnit, not again. Cut it out with fucking Cappy. She let out a mocking laugh when she told her he'd shoto her if she'd toss a fireball at him again. "Are we cheating now? What for man are you?" The girl said, shaking her head in amusement as she let her own fireballs die out slowly. Calla was completely underestimating this, not that she realized that, but she was. She wouldn't be an easy kill, no way josé, but the fact that he could be dangerous to her did not even pass her mind. People were flawed, and in Calla's case, her current reckless flaw was something that could cost her her life. "There's nothing here to be afraid of." The firetamer continued, her gaze locking with the hunter's, prepared and ready to start fighting any second. It was as if she was telling him to bring it on. As life-threatening as that would be for herself.

TAG: WESTLEY. NOTES: OH BOY HERE WE GO.