Amaya Blackstone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
special_rabbit) wrote2022-05-02 03:56 am
special_rabbit) wrote2022-05-02 03:56 am
Entry tags:
6 Unicorn Street; Monday Morning [05/02].
You know what? Things had been perfectly fine...right up until the point where they weren't, and that point was exactly the moment that Amaya, being pulled out of sleep in the way of those who stuck to a pretty rigerous schedule for these things, became aware of the fact that, no, no, everything that happened in the last few days was not just some nightmare (when was it ever?) and had indeed actually happened (didn't it always?), because here she was, waking up, not by herself at all but, instead, with the inexplicable, inexcuseable, absolutely unheard of (occasional school trips notwithstanding) situation of waking up with someone else in her bed with her.
And not only that, but with an arm around her to boot!
Amaya...almost didn't even know what to do with this information. Her first thought was somewhere along the lines of understanding now why Diaz kept a good knife close to her own bed because that would come in handy for removing that arm, but then Amaya did remember who that arm was attached to, and she would feel a bit bad about that. A bit, especially when she remembered why that arm was there in the first place.
Having never been in this situation before that she could remember (that whole vampire thing, she felt, was quite a bit different, and, besides, more importantly, hadn't been in her own bed!), Amaya needed a moment to not panic and tried to use her own brain (especially now that it was clearly not romantic mush like it had been the last few days!) to get her out of this mess. Come on, Blackstone. You've gotten out of sticky situations before...
...nothing quite as sticky as this, but...
There was a good chance that, especially now that she was awake, Dwight wouldnt' be too far behind, so she had to think fast. Which meant the only real possible solution was going to have to be trying to very, very, very gently move that arm and slip her way out from underneath it, get out of the bed, head toward the door, and just literally just keep walking until she reached Timbuktu and never come back!
After she got dressed, of course.
Ahhhhhhh, zards!
[[ awkward wake up posts? what awkward wake up posts? For the owner of that arm and former Mr. Blackstone. ]]
And not only that, but with an arm around her to boot!
Amaya...almost didn't even know what to do with this information. Her first thought was somewhere along the lines of understanding now why Diaz kept a good knife close to her own bed because that would come in handy for removing that arm, but then Amaya did remember who that arm was attached to, and she would feel a bit bad about that. A bit, especially when she remembered why that arm was there in the first place.
Having never been in this situation before that she could remember (that whole vampire thing, she felt, was quite a bit different, and, besides, more importantly, hadn't been in her own bed!), Amaya needed a moment to not panic and tried to use her own brain (especially now that it was clearly not romantic mush like it had been the last few days!) to get her out of this mess. Come on, Blackstone. You've gotten out of sticky situations before...
...nothing quite as sticky as this, but...
There was a good chance that, especially now that she was awake, Dwight wouldnt' be too far behind, so she had to think fast. Which meant the only real possible solution was going to have to be trying to very, very, very gently move that arm and slip her way out from underneath it, get out of the bed, head toward the door, and just literally just keep walking until she reached Timbuktu and never come back!
After she got dressed, of course.
Ahhhhhhh, zards!
[[ awkward wake up posts? what awkward wake up posts? For the owner of that arm and former Mr. Blackstone. ]]
no subject
For a moment he stared at the door as the noise inside subsided. He opened his mouth a few times to say something. To ask Amaya if she was ok. To say... something in response to that. But nothing would come out. And it was at that moment he realized that, there really wasn't anything he could... or should... say in the face of that reaction.
So silently, Dwight located the rest of his clothes and got dressed, remembering his boots had been discarded fairly early on downstairs. As he stood at the top of the stairs he paused for a moment giving one last glance to the door that still remained closed tight. He started to say something, wanting to tell Amaya it was ok, that he understood, and it was all fine... But he just shook his head and closed his mouth without a word.
And with a resigned sigh, he headed down the stairs, got his boots, and left the forge, with as much grace as a 6'6'' lunk of a somewhat heart broken man could in that moment