pass_distance 0 0.00 Number of squares progression the ball was thrown towards the endzone (this should be multiplied up to give number of paces (x5?)
dumpoff_attempts 0 0.00 Number of passes thrown which have been dumpoffs (this is informational, pass_attempts includes dump offs).
dumpoff_completions 0 0.00 Number of completions from dump offs (as above this is for informational purposes, pass_completions includes dump off completions).
rushing_distance_move 0 0.00 Squares of progression with the ball running towards the end zone in a normal move.
inflicted_knock_downs 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down).
inflicted_sacks 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down), when that player was carrying the ball.
inflicted_crowd_surfs 0 0.00 Number of times the push result has ended up in as an injury roll (presuming from being crowd surfed).
inflicted_stuns 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down) and that player ended up stunned.
inflicted_kos 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down) and that player ended up KOed.
inflicted_bhs 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down) and that player ended up badly hurt (after apoth).
inflicted_sis 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down) and that player ended up seriously injured (after apoth).
inflicted_kills 0 0.00 Number of times this player knocked the other player down blocking (as the attacker, the defends ends up down or as the defender the attacker ends up down) and that player ended up dead (after apoth)
sustained_knocked_downs 0 0.00 Number this this player was knocked down while blocking either from sustaining a block or when throwing a block.
sustained_sacks 0 0.00 Number this this player was knocked down while blocking either from sustaining a block or when throwing a block when carrying the ball.
sustained_crowd_surfs 0 0.00 Number of times this player has been pushed and required been required to make an injury roll (from crowd surfs).
sustained_stuns 0 0.00 Total number of times this player has been stunned (from any means). All these stats check player status at the end of the turn.
sustained_kill 0 0.00 Total number of times this player has been killed (from any means)... this would only ever be 1!
big_guy_stupidity_attempts 0 0.00 Number of rolls for really stupid, bonehead, take root and wild animal.
big_guy_stupidity_successes 0 0.00 Number of times the really stupid, bonehead, take root and wild animal roll succeeded.
throw_team_mate_to_safe_landing 0 0.00 Number of times this player successfully threw a team mate and the thrown player landed.
rushing_distance_thrown 0 0.00 The distance the ball progressed towards the end zone when this player was thrown (should be added to rushing distance total stat)
"I know where you are with my eyes closed. We are bound to each other with huge, invisible threads."
Winter Summers 10/11/18 Winter stares at the woman, just stares for what seems like forever. He clears his throat, he could do this. This was easy. "Welcome." Nope this was awkward as ****. "Right I'm gonna go now, glad to see you are still alive. Bye."
br> Turns to leave almost runs right into a wall, turns and smiles pretty at Rhiannon. "Wall right here be careful. It's very dangerous." Hurries to leave, wasn't awkward at all.
Soleil Whitaker 10/11/18 Soleil squints, skeptical of how Rhiannon is now in possession of a hotel keycard. She remains still, breath hitched, when the other woman saunters over, and takes a strand of now dark hair between her fingers. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to realize just who’s standing in front of her - afterall, she’d know the angel anywhere, at any moment.
“Baby?” It comes as a broken whisper. Hands reach out to take Rhiannon’s face between her palms. “It’s you.”
There are tears, now. Soleil leans in to press a firm kiss to her wife’s lips, and is elated to find that the woman with the caramel colored eyes tastes like her angel once more.
Soleil is too busy tapping out a text to notice the sound of the door swinging open. A lot had happened in the few weeks prior - Daniel’s disappearance, Tucker’s passing, Reid Funeral Home’s disbanding. Everything had gone awry, and for Soleil, it was near impossible to suppress the urge to run. Yet, with the help of her sons, the young Whitaker remained in LA, hopeful, patient, waiting.
Suddenly, there’s a new presence in the room, and Soleil’s heart begins to beat wildly against her sternum. She can’t help but noticed that this Rhiannon feels familiar to her. Shock, awe, utter disbelief has her speechless as Rhiannon appears in the doorway. “What- what are you doing here?” she stutters, a hand lifting to clasp over her mouth, “How did you get in?”
The dude behind the counter gave me a dirty look when I said I was just 'attending to my wife in the restroom.'
Soleil Whitaker 04/28/18 The dreary, early spring rain seems appropriate; like Rhiannon, the world is in mourning. Different tones of gray were the only thing to be seen when Soleil stepped onto the pavement, earlier this morning. With a heavy tread, and an equally heavy heart, she’d left Rhiannon, Red Sox hoodie wrapped tightly around her shoulders, to acquire the angel’s most favorite breakfast pastries.
Whether or not her wife realizes, Soleil’s heart is no stranger to grief, having lost three siblings of her own. She’d been conscious to witness paramedics pull Jacy’s mangled body from the car wreck; to know that life had been so forcibly ripped from his lungs made her wish, more than anything, to have switched places.
There are no words spoken as Soleil pulls the angel tightly to her chest. Her steady, stable heartbeat reminding both women of the love they share. After the wreck, Soleil had found herself alone. Completely alone. And so, to the best of her abilities, she pours all the love she had then craved into caring for Rhiannon. Lips pressed to the angel’s hair, arms locked around her shoulders, trying, as if by osmosis, to reassure her that in time, the heart heals.
Soleil Whitaker 04/26/18 Callum's name sends a pang of jealousy rippling through Soleil's already fragile heart. But, this moment is not about her. Nor is it about her more-than-obvious distaste for Rhiannon's ex-husband.
Soleil Whitaker 04/26/18 Soleil had never been known to be an overly emotional creature; years of curtailing any outward expression left her... well, stunted, in a way. Her adoration for Rhiannon often comes out in unorthodox ways - although, over time, the gestures of love had become more intimate, more personal. And because grief and frustration are emotions she still struggles to openly express, the news of Margot's passing is hard to process. But, she knows that her feelings on the matter are trivial in comparison to her wife's.
Soleil Whitaker 04/11/18 Well, if someone had offered a helping hand, maybe I wouldn't be so goddamn tired.
Our SON insists that he needs to jump over every crack in the sidewalk. How about you come pick him up?
Soleil Whitaker 03/14/18 “My pancakes are perfect!” she squeals, kicking her legs, “You’re just mad because Wilson asked me to make breakfast this morning.”
Laughter and hushed pleas of truce carry throughout the brownstone. How the boys remain asleep is nothing short of a miracle; but, both Rhiannon and Soleil are grateful. It’s not until the clock reads long past midnight that the Whitaker women drift off to sleep.
Soleil Whitaker 03/14/18 “I don’t think anyone was, babe,” she replies, stifling a bout of untimely laughter, “He disappeared with no explanation. It’s been months.”
Soleil decides she’s being a touch too insensitive for the present moment, and mutters an apology before pressing another kiss to Rhiannon’s head. “He made you happy,” she whispers, “Perhaps he still does, in one way or another. I didn’t need an explanation, but I’m glad you brought him up.”
The abrupt shift in conversation takes Soleil by surprise. Usually, she’s the one with the fleeting attention span, and ridiculous mood swings. But, the inquiry - or request, perhaps - makes her grin wickedly, regardless. “Do I want to get naked?” she scoffs. Rhiannon already knows the answer.
Soleil Whitaker 03/14/18 She’s tempted to interrupt. She doesn’t need an explanation, doesn’t particularly want Rhiannon to indulge in the details of her past relationship. But, Soleil listens instead, nodding every so often in acknowledgement of what’s being said. And when the angel finishes, they sit, arms wrapped tightly around one another, hearts beating in unison.
“I could never deny your past with Callum. What you had for him, what you still share is sacred to the both of you,” she replies, lifting her free hand to Rhiannon’s cheek, “I understand, I accept that. You are the light of my life, Rhiannon. I trust you.”
Truth is, Soleil has never been more in love. She only wishes she could articulate just how and what she’s feeling. Instead, she pulls Rhiannon into a slow kiss.
Soleil Whitaker 03/14/18 Soleil’s hand drifts to the small of her wife's back, pausing only to trace circles against her bare skin. The sensation of Rhiannon’s lips against her neck elicits a happy hum, and a mumbled “Love you, too” in response. For the first time in what feels like forever, the Whitaker women have a moment to themselves. No boys, no houseguests, no needy (yet, endearingly so) sister-in-law.
“I know, babe,” Soleil promises, shifting to prop herself up on her elbows, “You don’t think I know that?"
Soleil Whitaker 03/14/18 Seeing Callum earlier in the day had thrown Soleil for a loop. She’s never been particularly fond of him, but as an acknowledgement of his past with Rhiannon, she'd made a conscious effort to be a little less vocal about it. She’d seen how his sudden disappearance had affected the Faye sisters - a testament to how deep that bond truly ran. And to make her wife feel guilty about her former marriage would be hypocritical, in a number of ways. She pulls Rhiannon close, lips pressing a firm kiss to her dark hair.
Before Rhiannon can slip away, Callum catches her arm. A quiet moment passes between them before he smiles again. "I'd like that. And for what it's worth, I've missed you, too."
Before even turning around, Callum knows. He'd recognize her voice anywhere. Over the course of 12 years together, he'd familiarized himself with Rhiannon's every tone, voice inflection, and speech pattern. There had even been a time when he could sense her bodily presence.
"I've been... away. I know I have a lot to explain," he says, softly, "I'm sorry. Really." He can't help but smile; it was good to be home, despite his reasons for leaving in the first place.
Oh, I finally got my paycheck for the New Year's gig. And I wanna go on vacation with you and the boys.
Soleil Whitaker 01/10/18 “Never apologize for Q!” she gasps. The small King Charles has become her companion, eagerly trotting alongside her as she mills around the house. Soleil can’t deny the dog a little extra lovin’, despite feeling some regret over the recent neglect of Fish and Luna. She just can’t get over Q’s chocolate colored eyes, and adorable button nose.
Leaning into Rhiannon’s embrace, Soleil lets out a content sigh. The warmth and security she feels here is unparalleled. “I don’t look like I’d rather die,” she protests, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the angel’s neck thereafter, “I just didn’t want to upset you.”
Soleil loves her wife more than anyone or anything else in the world. She is, despite her past transgressions, devoted to Rhiannon in unimaginable ways. And at the end of the day, if the angel really wanted to adopt another child, she’d be met with little protest.
She has no idea how to voice her qualms; she can’t bear to hurt her wife, not after all they’ve been through. But, she had promised to be better about voicing her concerns and expressing her emotions. And the push for more pets and babies has Soleil reeling.
The younger Whitaker shuffles her feet, nervous about her wife’s reaction. Her gaze drops to her feet as she mutters an apology. Eventually, she’d want a daughter - a baby girl to complete the family. But, it just doesn’t feel right. Not yet.
Soleil pushes open the office door, loitering in the door frame for a moment. She knows that Rhiannon has been baby-crazed as of late. The holidays provided an opportunity for the angel to splurge on and spoil their young sons, and Soleil had been all for it. But, perhaps selfishly, she’s had enough of the chaos. Three dogs, three cats, two toddlers. The brownstone has always been their fortress of adoration and security, and of course, the more household members, the better. Realistically, however, the commotion is... a lot.
Soleil Whitaker 01/03/18 “He was metro, then,” she responds, huffing, “But, either way, he was hitting on my wife.” Soleil is a territorial creature by nature - possessive, protective. Especially when it comes to her wife. She’s jealous, yes. But, not insecure.
Just as she gives an eager nod of consent, the doorbell rings. Perfect f*cking timing. “He’ll leave it on the doorstep,” she mutters, pulling Rhiannon close for another slow kiss, “I paid with a card. Included the tip and everything.” Don’t be a tease. Her brow furrows in silent warning, arms tightening around Rhiannon’s waist. She knows that her wife has her tendencies.
Soleil Whitaker 01/02/18 “He was not gay,” Soleil grumbles, frowning at the memory, “He was so unapologetically hitting on you.” She’s constantly appalled by the audacity of the club-going male population, but this particular f*cker was unnecessarily persistent. Rhiannon had even physically deterred his advances; it had taken Soleil every ounce of self-control not to put the sh*thead on his ass.
She pauses, taking a breath to recenter. After clearing her throat, she makes a comment about the tequila. The alcohol had been top-shelf. And free for Soleil and her plus one - perks of being the main act at a bougie club. “I’m glad you had fun, babe,” she muses, letting out a pleased hum thereafter, “It was really nice having you there.”
Soleil smiles against Rhiannon’s hair; the satisfaction and adoration in her heart almost bring tears to her eyes. But, of course, the tenderness of the moment is ruined by her inability to have any chill. “And the after, after party was pretty cool, too."
Soleil Whitaker 01/02/18 “Didn’t you just come from the kitchen?” Soleil teases, eyes squinting at the angel in her lap. Her arms reach around Rhiannon to tug her blanket back, displeased with the abrupt rush of cold air on her vulnerable legs. The couple sits for a moment, the silence only broken by the sound of a happy sigh.
The young Whitaker nudges her wife playfully, thankful for the woman’s warmth and proximity. She’s reaching for her phone before granted a response, and with a couple swift clicks, dumplings, egg rolls and soy sauce are successfully ordered. Her arms wind their way around Rhiannon’s waist, effectively pulling her impossibly close.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself on New Year’s.” A small smirk tugs at the corners of mouth, knowing full well that Rhiannon had, in fact, liquored up and danced the night away.
Soleil Whitaker 12/28/17 Rhiannon’s proximity is enough to make Soleil heave a content sigh. This is exactly what she needs at the end of a holiday weekend - the wife and some wine, the perfect combination. She takes a long sip, free arm wrapping its way around Rhiannon’s slim frame if only to hold her more firmly against her side. Absolute bliss.
Of course, the Whitakers can’t unwind completely. Not yet, at least. Soleil has a huge gig at Output on New Years Eve - the biggest show she’s been booked for, ever. Colin had done the young woman a solid in talking to the nightclub’s management. It’s rare for a small-time DJ, like Soleil, to score a venue at which Diplo and Eric Prdyz had previously performed.
Soleil Whitaker 12/27/17 The brownstone smells of pine, peppermint, and gingerbread. Four of the five Christmas trees have been left out on the curb - the tallest remains, still fully decorated, in the living room. It’s the Wednesday after Christmas, and Soleil is still reeling from the energy and excitement that had filled the house days prior.
A Kiddimoto Marc Márquez Superbike, and a custom made LS2 helmet. A pair of Bauer ice skates. A BB-8 Mega playset with a Jedi costume to match. The Whitakers had spared no expense for their son’s first Christmas, but the expression of utter delight on Wilson’s face made the cost worth it. But, as the holiday season draws to a close, it’s impossible for Soleil not to admit that she’s absolutely beat.
Soleil Whitaker 12/13/17 The bedroom door shuts, and all Soleil can do is blink away hot tears. Rhiannon’s anger is excusable; the younger woman isn’t stupid. But, it hurts. Afterall, her heart still aches at the thought of how she’d betrayed the woman she loves most in this world. It’d been months at this point, but there is no denying how greatly it damaged her moral compass. Now, Logan and his hauntingly blue eyes would act as a constant reminder of her sins.
After what feels like an eternity of standing alone in the hallway, she’s propelled down the stairs and out the front door. Her fingers tap out a short text to Mark, as she swings a leg over the side of the motorcycle. Quickly, she tugs the helmet on, snapping the glass visor down over her eyes and nose. Running is undoubtedly the immature thing to do, but there’s no way she’s going to tread timidly around her own home. Not for being coerced into doing something she knew would result in this kind of tension.
Soleil Whitaker 12/13/17 Soleil is tempted to lie. It’d be easy to say that she’d just been given a pick-up location. She’s tempted to say that she hadn’t seen Elouise, that someone else had handed the child off to her. But, the angel knows her wife, and lying would only stoke the fire. There’s a momentary silence that settles around the couple, disrupted only by the sound of Logan’s gurgling, as Soleil considers her next words.
“I didn’t know what to expect in meeting her, Rhiannon,” she replies, quietly. It’s the truth, and Soleil hopes the angel can identify the remorse in her voice. “I told her we didn’t want Logan. I told her that I didn’t want him. I made it clear that I was done doing her favors. But, she… she just f*cking walked away.”
Soleil knows her wife is upset, and of course, she can’t blame her. Elouise had been the biggest thorn in the couple’s side; there’s no denying that she’d been the root of all their marital troubles, so after the affair, Soleil had been excruciatingly meticulous in ridding her life of all things ‘Orlav.’ But, the word ‘lover’ still stings. So much so that Soleil takes an involuntary step backwards.
The infant is up and out of her arms before she can manage an entire sentence. He giggles, and Soleil revels in the way Rhiannon’s face lights up. She knows, however, that this excitement will be painfully short-lived. A hand reaches up to rub the back of her neck, heart clenching in her chest as her wife finally takes a moment to pause.
Soleil doesn’t exactly know how Rhiannon’s going to react, but she can certainly imagine. Having an Orlav in the house is going to be troublesome for them, both. For their marriage. And it’s exactly this kind of nightmare that the younger Whitaker wanted to avoid. “Logan is” - a pause to clear her throat - “He’s El’s kid.”
She makes a conscious effort to maintain eye contact, even though she can feel Rhiannon tense at the mention of El’s name. “Hear me out, baby. Please,” she begs before her wife has a moment to respond.
It had been life or death for Logan Orlav. Despite her reluctance, despite how she felt for Elouise, Soleil had been backed into a corner. Soft at heart, she couldn’t - no, she wouldn’t - possibly leave the child to die, either by his own mother’s hand, or otherwise. He was human, afterall. Innocent and pure, despite his parents’ transgressions. Soleil could understand this. But, for Rhiannon? Being an Orlav was enough of a crime.
Soleil Whitaker 12/12/17 Soleil stands out on the pavement, carseat and infant in one hand, helmet in the other. She stares up at her home, wondering just how she’d managed to transport Logan safely on the motorcycle. It’s nothing short of a miracle, really. She glances down, catching another glimpse of those familiar, clear blue eyes. Then, her feet carry her up the steps, and into the front hall.
Her heart is racing as she ventures further into the brownstone. If her wife possessed lycan abilities, she’d already be aware of the tiny, new heartbeat. Steady, stable, alive. Logan squeaks as she scoops him into her arms.
“Oh, ****,” she whispers, making her way up to Rhiannon’s study, “What have I done?” She’s already anticipating the barrage of questions and queries. Quite frankly, she knows it’s game over once Rhiannon realizes the child is an Orlav.
I'm lost without you, you know? I don't know what to do with myself. Having Wilson helps, he keeps me preoccupied. But, at the end of the day, I don't want an empty bed. I want you.
I have acknowledged, on multiple occasions, that you are supporting this family. I can't do what you do.
It's my fault that you have to work so much. I should've known. And I feel like sh*t because I'm angry that you're always working. It kills me whenever Wilson asks why you're not home. And then I realize I'm just throwing myself another f*cking pity party.
Let me ask you this. What's the biz with you lately, hm? What's been going on with you? Trouble with the co-workers? D*ck of a boss, maybe? Particular nuisance of a client?
I haven't had a full conversation with my own wife in the last, f*ck if I know how long. This isn't just about me, it's about you too. That's the way a marriage works, Rhiannon. Why am I always the only one who has to open up?
Go check on Wilson, babe. He asked me about why you haven't been home lately. Again. He's been missing you.
Plus, he got a little frosting happy today. I know it's going to take a chisel to clean it up if I don't get to it soon.
I'm not f*cking qualified to work, to support a family. We don't have any other options, and I know it's hard for you to be away so much. It's hard for the both of us, but...
I can be independent, you know. I know I'm childish sometimes, but I can do things on my own. I don't need you to tend to every decision or move I make.
I just didn't want to burden you with planning a vacation. You've been... busy supporting us. And it's the holiday season, so I just figured you'd be swamped.
Just so you know, though... Wilson's been sleeping on your side, and I think he's gonna be reluctant to give that up.
Sriracha nuggets are no different than tater-tots fried in truffle oil. Restaurants make fancy finger food all the time.
You know, chicken nuggets dipped in Sriracha mayo should be put on a bar menu. Sh*t's actually pretty good.
Soleil Whitaker 10/12/17 Rhiannon’s 'closet commentary' warrants a playful shove from the younger woman. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat as her lower back connects with the marble counter. She’s mesmerized by Rhiannon’s moving lips, eyes unapologetically fixated on them. The only thought present in the confines of her skull is of how those lips are going to feel against her pallid skin.
She nods eagerly, and she knows it’s sufficient enough of a response for Rhiannon to take control. “I love you,” she states firmly, taking the angel’s face in her hands. Hazel eyes stare for what feels like an eternity.
“I’m so in love with you.” She reaffirms the statement with a fervid kiss, teeth and tongue soon battling for control. Soleil Whitaker is not capable of expressing the amount of love she holds in her heart. Instead, she pours all of her emotions into the way she makes love to her wife, constantly hoping and praying that it’ll be just enough for Rhiannon to know.
Soleil Whitaker 10/11/17 She knows Rhiannon is speaking; her lips are moving, after all. But, Soleil is too distracted by the sight of her wife to be fully attentive. There’s something about how her hair is thrown messily into a bun, glasses now perched on the top of her head. It’s the effortless beauty that drives Soleil wild.
The confession is intended as a response to Rhiannon’s question. But, just with the way Soleil had blurted it out, it becomes the epitome of her current mindset. She is gay, and her wife is an absolute goddess.
Her hands slip under the hem of the Red Sox hoodie, and she hums in response to the warmth she finds against Rhiannon’s skin. She leans in close, leaving just enough room for the hushed words shared between she and her wife. “I missed you today,” she whispers, fingers dancing up the length of her spine. Her eyes slide shut, and she revels in how Rhiannon’s heart skips a beat. She has half a mind to pull the sweatshirt off. Instead, her move around to her chest only to cop an unabashed feel.
She whines when Rhiannon holds her at arm’s length. “We’re friends,” she responds, a hint of impatience apparent in her tone. Conversation is the very last thing Soleil is capable of focusing on in this moment. Rhiannon’s mile-long legs are demanding her attention, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to lay her wife out on the kitchen counter just to have her way. “He has no intentions. I, on the other hand, have intentions with you.”
Soleil Whitaker 10/11/17 Soleil mumbles to herself, searching, bleary-eyed, for a bottle of water. She wonders why and how she’d arrived at this level of intoxication so quickly - she’d felt near sober when leaving the bar. Focus, Soleil.
On an empty stomach. She’d agreed to meet up with Mark after dinner, and it hadn’t quite occurred to her that ‘dinner’ now constituted as Wilson’s leftovers (read: 2 chicken nuggets, and a juicebox). Good. Her grumbling is interrupted by the sound of Rhiannon’s voice. Like a Golden Retriever puppy, she is beyond excited to see her wife. A bright smile splits her features, arms immediately slipping around the other woman’s slim waist.
“Love of my life. The mother of my son. My moon, and my” - she pauses for another kiss - “you taste like wine.”
It’s a stupid, rhetorical question. But, a knowing grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Did you finish the bottle, yet?"
Soleil Whitaker 10/11/17 Soleil could sense the urgency - impatience, rather - in her wife’s text messages. ‘I want to talk’ had become code for sex; she figured that out rather quickly. Rhiannon’s latest text is a blatant indication of just how desperate the couple had become for moments of intimacy.
Pulling up to the brownstone, Soleil lets out a relieved sigh. It probably hadn’t been the smartest of ideas for the young Whitaker to drive home, but she hadn’t exactly anticipated having 3 drinks. She dismounts the motorcycle, taking a rather unsteady step onto the curb thereafter. Somehow, she manages to tug off her helmet while stumbling up the front steps.
“Rhiannon!” she calls, pushing into to the front hall, “Sh*t, sorry.” The apology isn’t directed at anyone in particular, but she quickly realizes that in order to keep her son from waking up, she needs to be quiet. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she attempts to juggle her phone and her helmet with the same hand. This proves to be an impossible task, so she sets the helmet down, takes a deep breath, and taps out a quick message to her wife.
I know all white men are the same to you, but I have two friends in the city. Not hard to keep track of. ;)
Just know that I opened a bottle of Chateau Petrus. There's a glass waiting on the coffee table for you, if you choose to stay up a little while longer.
Soleil Whitaker 10/09/17 Soleil’s hands move to Rhiannon’s hips; she squeezes affectionately, fingers pressing themselves into soft flesh. The weight of her wife in her lap is almost enough to drive her wild, but it’s the sensation of Rhiannon’s teeth against her skin that rips a moan from the back of her throat.
Her head lulls back against the couch before she can finish the thought. Rhiannon is well aware of how easily aroused her wife is; so much as one look with bedroom eyes is enough to send Soleil’s heart rate through the roof.
“Great surprise,” she finally manages, eyes sliding shut as Rhiannon’s teeth continue to nip at sensitive skin. “You take my breath away.”
Soleil wracks her brain, trying to figure out what exactly she and her wife have to discuss. It’s been a while since they’ve argued, even longer since they’d addressed the affair. But, insecurity plagues her mind as she paces the living room floor. At the sound of the front door opening, she downs the remainder of her beer, and then throws herself onto the couch in attempt to appear nonchalant.
She hears nothing but the greeting, utterly distracted by the way the trench coat hugs the angel’s curves. Her mouth falls open as Rhiannon steps closer.
Her hands reach out before her own brain can register the movement, fingers finding the trim of the coat. She tugs Rhiannon closer, shifting herself toward the edge of the couch. With her wife standing in between her legs, Soleil leans in to press a gentle kiss to Rhiannon’s toned abdomen. Murmuring, she reaches around to cop an unabashed feel.
Soleil Whitaker 09/15/17 “Rhiannon,” Soleil growls. To say she’s not easily frustrated by this woman would be a blatant lie. She’s an absolute sucker for her wife, despite the games Rhiannon likes to play. Already on the verge of taking matters into her own hands, Soleil grits her teeth, fingers finding their way into waves of dark hair.
“You know what kind of kisses.” Her head lulls back against the couch, eyes sliding shut as Rhiannon’s lips continue to explore her pale skin. Soleil is sometimes convinced that the angel will someday be the death of her. But, who is she, really, to complain?
Soleil Whitaker 09/15/17 Soleil squirms under Rhiannon’s drifting hands, a short breath escaping from between her lips. She’s very aware of the woman’s intentions; after all, Rhiannon has never been known to be… subtle in regards to their sex life.
Her back arches in response to coaxing hands, torso pressing more firmly against the other woman. It is safe to say that Soleil Whitaker is having trouble catching her breath. “Rhiannon,” she mumbles. She makes an attempt to protest against her wife’s unabashed f*ckboy mentality, but finds herself leaning closer for a kiss.
Soleil Whitaker 09/14/17 “I was just about to ask,” she responds, hands reaching to grasp at her wife’s wrists. She squints at her in silent warning; Soleil Whitaker absolutely cannot be held accountable for any harm done while being tickled. Rhiannon knows this.
“You’re gonna let me drive?” She’s almost shocked. The Mustang is Rhiannon’s prized possession - Soleil feels blessed to even sit in the car, let alone drive it. She finds herself nodding, excited by the prospect of being behind the wheel.
“Can I kiss you at all the red lights?” she inquires, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. She knows she doesn’t have to ask permission, but she can’t seem to help herself.
Soleil Whitaker 09/14/17 The electricity between Rhiannon and Soleil had been undeniable from the beginning, but there is an unparalleled sensation in this particular moment. The air is knocked from the younger Whitaker’s lungs, and she’s left utterly breathless when Rhiannon pulls away from their kiss.
“Hey,” she breathes. She presses her lips to the angel’s hair, convinced that, in these moments, she’s catching glimpses of Heaven. Nothing feels better than Rhiannon’s body pressed against her own, arms wrapped around each other, fingers idly brushing against skin. The desire for constant physical contact is, perhaps, a little excessive. But, for Soleil, it’s what keeps her grounded.
Darling, gorgeous, all-too-generous wife of mine, will you please come to bed so I can f*ck you senseless?
Oh, NO. We do NOT have a child. This baby is literally someone else's. A crew member of Camille's. Seriously, though. He's yours if you want him.
I don't want to talk about chocolate. I've been elbow deep in baby sh!t for the past 24 hours and I have no will to live remaining.
I just opened a bottle of red. Was thinking we could snuggle, drink wine, and find something new to watch?
I'd only leave if you asked, Rhiannon. And even then, I'd wait, just in case you ever wanted me back.
I want to die, all the time. I can't stand how I've hurt you. Because you trusted me. And I f*cked it up.
Soleil Whitaker 08/26/17 “I know,” she responds, “You need time. There’s no rush.” Soleil allows for the angel to coax her toward the bed, guiding her along with tender kisses and whispered assertions of love and comfort. Validation that she does not deserve, by any means. And it almost behooves her to put a stop to it.
Rhiannon’s touch feels too much like normalcy for Soleil, too much like the last 48 hours had been nothing but a nightmare. In that moment, it is clear that both women need a break from their pain and anxieties. Soleil doesn’t quite know how or why she is still residing within the confines of the brownstone. But, for now, Rhiannon is dictating what is and isn’t to happen in their marriage. And if it’s in sex and intimacy that she finds her escape, Soleil is more than willing to oblige.
Soleil Whitaker 08/25/17 She doesn't dare press her lips to Rhiannon's; that kind of intimacy had been become forbidden the second she'd fallen into bed with Elouise. Instead, she dips her hand between the angel's thighs, fingertips trailing down the length of her abdomen. Eyes open, staring up at the only person who possesses the power to crush her will to live. The languidness and the timidity in the way Soleil's fingers work express the unfathomable sorrow she feels building in her chest.
Soleil can feel just how heartbroken the angel is. She doesn't cling to Soleil's slight frame the way she used to, her hands to wander, lips don't pepper her skin with affectionate kisses. Even her labored breath sounds different.
And when they're done, Soleil can only watch as Rhiannon crawls away. The physical separation is agonizing.
And everything feels empty. The room. Her chest cavity. The sex. Rhiannon's eyes as she peers back at the younger woman.
Soleil Whitaker 08/25/17 Soleil fidgets when Rhiannon disappears into the bathroom, fingers fiddling with her wedding band. The sound of a running faucet causes the young woman to figure that Rhiannon has made her decision, that she is quite literally washing her hands of their marriage. Her eyes slide shut, a broken sigh forced from between her lips. She deserves this.
She almost jumps when Rhiannon’s fingers still her own. The contact is unexpected, and she stares - just as Rhiannon does - at their entangled hands. It isn’t until the angel speaks that Soleil realizes she’s been asked to stay. She looks up, and her breath hitches as Rhiannon’s lips press to the corner of her mouth. The smell of toothpaste is better than that of vanilla dipped donuts - anything to overwhelm and erase the reminder of her infidelity that had stained the inside of her nostrils.
Involuntarily, she lets out a sigh of relief. Her chest is still tight with humiliation and guilt, but hearing those words makes her heart leap. As unnatural as it may seem, Soleil has a feeling that their relationship may be stronger in hindsight.
Soleil Whitaker 08/25/17 She had thought of everything she had to lose. She’d spent close to 12 consecutive hours thinking of all the consequences of her actions, only when it became too unbearable to think about did she resort to alcohol as a distraction. She’d spent the majority of the flight from Moscow wringing her hands in agony and distress. But, Rhiannon would never come to know that.
As tempted as she is to respond with anger, Soleil knows that she’s at fault. She can’t compare her sins to Rhiannon’s; the circumstances had been much different. Instead, she listens. She takes the verbal barrage, head hung in palpable shame. Her silence is not an indication of surrender because she is, at the end of the day, prepared to fight tooth and nail for this woman. But, control lies in solely Rhiannon's hands, and it is Soleil's conscious choice to let her decide.
But, when the angel vomits, Soleil moves swiftly to help her wife. She’s prepared for the angel to push her away, to deny her the comfort of physical contact, to refuse her aid. But, she can’t stop herself. She’s wired that way.
“Just say the word,” she whispers finally, pushing herself up and away from her trembling wife. If there is one thing Rhiannon knows about the young Whitaker, it’s that she is incorrigibly selfish. She will run as far as, and as fast as she can from her troubles. And if Rhiannon wants her gone, Soleil is already halfway there.
It’s the truth. Soleil may have loved Elouise Orlav at some point, but never in the way she loves her wife. Her attraction to Elouise started out as a fascination - the tall blonde had been the first to show Soleil any kind of attention and affection, and it made her feel wanted, for once. But, Elouise was married. And Jameson was her boss. So, she moved on.
Soleil begins to step forward, but stops herself. How quickly she forgets that she is not at any liberty to touch her wife.
If she could give Rhiannon her beating heart, she would. Just to prove that she’d do anything for her. She’d told herself not to beg, but suddenly, she finds words of desperation spilling from between her lips.
Soleil Whitaker 08/25/17 She’s never seen her wife look so small, and it sends cracks rippling through the very last piece of her already fragile heart. “I…” she chokes, tears once more spilling down her cheeks. She feels violently nauseous at the prospect of saying it out loud, and so, her mouth snaps shut, lips press themselves into a thin line.
Soleil doesn’t flinch when Rhiannon lifts her hand. In fact, she almost wishes that the angel would strike her because physical pain is quantifiable. And much easier to endure than emotional or mental agony. So, she looks up with pleading eyes, as if to say ‘distract me from this heartache.’
Soleil Whitaker 08/25/17 It doesn’t take her long to get to the hotel. The woman at the concierge desk is pleasant, and Soleil almost manages a smile. The elevator ride up is long as dread begins to settle in. She pauses just before swiping the keycard.
Soleil shakes the thought from her skull. She wants this, she wants Rhiannon. And the family. The future they’d planned. She wants it all, even if she’s no longer entitled to it. Pushing through the door, she can hear Rhiannon’s heartbeat, which immediately dispels some of the tension held in her muscles.
Soleil has no knowledge of how much time has passed when her phone lets out a shrill ring. She’d been staring at the same spot on the adjacent wall for so long that her vision had long since blurred. Her bones let out a whine when she moves to take her phone from the coffee table.
She stares at the blue iMessage bubble, almost confused by the request. But, she is quick to respond, fingers deftly tapping out a response.
Soleil Whitaker 08/24/17 The pain becomes unbearable when Rhiannon turns and disappears out the front door. There is nothing for Soleil to do but collapse against the doorframe, a broken wail torn from the back of her throat. She’d held it together for the flight back, but now… in an empty house, surrounded by memories of a love she betrayed, she crumbles.
She can’t bear to think of the family she’d planned to build with Rhiannon. She can’t stand to think of the ways they’ll have to pretend when Susanne brings Wilson over in the morning. But, when the timer sounds, she drags herself to her feet, and takes the cupcakes out of the oven, frosting them neatly only after they’ve cooled.
Soleil stands in the middle of the kitchen - of their kitchen - for a while, fingers picking nervously at her calluses. Then, her feet are carrying her up the stairs, and into the bedroom. There are things she needs to pack, things she needs to put away in the event that Rhiannon decides that things are over. It’s a slow, agonizing process, but undeniably necessary. When she is done, she leaves the packed bags in the front hall closet, out of the purview of cautious, judging eyes (namely, Susanne).
Soleil Whitaker 08/24/17 Time slows as Rhiannon moves to collect her belongings, and Soleil lifts her gaze just enough to watch the woman she loves distance herself. Her heart aches, but there’s a part of her that knows she deserves everything that’s coming to her.
The angel’s response is surprisingly calm, and it is only in the given situation that Soleil would much prefer explosive anger. She could handle yelling and screaming because at least, then, she’d know just how Rhiannon is feeling. But, the resignation expressed in the pair of simple “okay’s” rips Soleil’s beating heart right out from the middle of her chest.
She so desperately wants to reach out and stop the woman from leaving. But, she knows she is no longer entitled to physical contact.
Soleil shuffles past her wife. She finds no reason for begging - not for the sake of her pride (for she has none in this moment), but rather for the simple fact that it’d be a waste of Rhiannon’s time. She loves the angel vehemently, and will continue to do so for the rest of her days. But, the fate of their marriage is no longer in her hands. She’s made her bed. Now, she must sleep in it. Alone.
Soleil Whitaker 08/24/17 “Hey,” she breathes as Rhiannon throws her arms around her neck. Instinctively, Soleil pulls her close. Even with the amount of anguish she holds in chest, she can’t help it. But, it’s only a mere moment until she pushes the angel away.
Although she is already missing the way Rhiannon feels against her, Soleil feels dirty. Tainted. Too disgraced for her own wife to touch her. It’s impossible for her to keep her sins concealed from the one person who knows her best. But, she doesn’t know where to start.
Soleil remembers how broken and inconsolable Rhiannon had been when she'd returned home after her affair with Callum, her ex-husband. And in this moment, it’s not just remorse that drives her away from the woman. It’s an abhorrence for herself and for her actions, for the way she’d violated her promise to her wife, for the indubitable heartbreak she’s about to cause.
Truth is, Soleil is standing on the curb, staring up at the brownstone that had become her fortress of unwavering love and trust. But after last night, trust does not, and cannot, exist in the Whitaker household.
With a shaky breath, the young woman trudges up the front steps, pushing through the front door thereafter. “Rhiannon?” she calls, dropping her bag in the front hall. Silently, she pads into the kitchen, where she knows her wife is baking cupcakes in preparation of their adoptive son’s visit.
The concept sends shards of regret and shame through her heart, and she almost reaches up to press a palm to her sternum. She can’t bare to look at the woman with caramel colored eyes as she loiters in the doorframe. The temptation to flee is almost overwhelming - her bag is packed already, so all she needs to do is pick it up and run.
Soleil Whitaker 08/18/17 Intimacy is something that Soleil Whitaker has become very familiar with, especially when her wife is involved. There is no doubt that she is, in every way possible, addicted. On occasion, insecurity overwhelms her, and Soleil gets caught up on the thought that their relationship is nothing more than physical. But, of course, it spans beyond that.
Soleil pours her heart into the way she kisses Rhiannon, and she hopes her wife knows, in that moment, that no one and nothing else matters. “You are absolutely everything to me,” she murmurs as their lips part, “I’m crazy in love with you."
How about we head home? We can take a bath, finish that bottle of Chateaux Petrus. Cuddle? Watch TV?
Soleil Whitaker 08/17/17 I don't like knowing that I got carried away. Some of your bruises are dark, baby.
Soleil Whitaker 08/17/17 I meant to make up for that. But, thanks for making me feel worse about it.
Of course I missed you. I went for a swim. Some woman tried to chat me up as I was getting out of the water. But, I yelled that I had a wife, and then sprinted up here.
"Well, alrighty then. I'll make no comments about butts. Well, her butt. Or yours. My wife has a nice tush, though. And I'm pretty sure she'll kill anyone who looks at MY tush. So pretty much like you guys. Right?"
"I could answer that question, but you have a very scary sounding wife who is prepared to rip out my throat at the first sign of trouble." -shifty eyes- "Yes. I do believe you're my work wife."
Atticus Hammond 08/15/17 He lets out an audible sigh. "Lesbians. Thank god." He then pauses with an absolutely bewildered expression. "Sorry, you just wouldn't believe the day I'm having. It's like I'm giving off some sort of pheromone. That would be a yes for dinner, so long as it's beer, and every sentence has a ten word limit."
Atticus Hammond 08/15/17 Atticus stares at the woman. And stares. Because, honestly, these people were way too friendly for his tastes. Save Mackenzie, who is far wittier than him, and keeps him on his toes. He looks at this 'Rhiannon' with widening gray eyes, offering his palm over before he truly knows how to react. "Ah. Well, hi, Rhiannon. You obviously know I'm Atticus. It's... Nice to meet you." He watches as she scrawls out her number on his palm, noting to himself he would have to transfer it to his phone before it smeared. "Let's sit in awkward silence sometime soon. 'Kay?"
Blanket forts always seem to put you in the mood, and I want to show you just how much I missed you today.
Spending time with you is my favorite thing to do, baby. I can die happy just knowing that you're mine.
I wanted to kiss you in Wendy's. On the first day we met. You were... I have no words to describe how stunning you were.
If your sister needs to go to the hospital because she's proven you wrong, you'll be the one to take her.
I just... she only calls when it's a real emergency. Not like, you know, an 'Elouise Orlav' emergency.
Soleil Whitaker 07/18/17 They don't matter because they only woman I'm thinking of right now is you.
I will never have the words to express how much you mean to me, Rhiannon. And, as you know, I've never been good with words, anyways.
Words aren't enough, so my actions need to make up for that. And it's not just sex, it's the small gestures too. I don't think I express it enough.
Soleil Whitaker 07/18/17 I don't want you to ever be under the impression that I don't like the way you touch me. I just...
You could've just waited, you know... a few minutes. It's too early for me to be up and active, you know that.
Soleil Whitaker 07/12/17 I just... I'm probably not going to see her for a while after we leave, you know?
When I get back from dinner with El? I didn't get her Taco Bell last night, so I owe her dinner tonight.
Noura Orlav. Jameson's sister. I tried to nab her wallet when I saw her at the Compound a few days ago. A couple a quick bucks, you know?
And then I think a bit of downtime is in order. Just us, the dogs, the kittens, our home. Sound okay?
Soleil Whitaker 07/07/17 A low growl erupts from the back of Soleil’s throat, and almost instantaneously, she has Rhiannon on her back. She knows her wife is simply goading her, but it’s easy (and mutually beneficial) to play into. She leans in to press a kiss to her wife’s neck, gradually shifting to pepper her chest and collarbones with affection. “I f*cking love you,” she murmurs, fingertips ghosting over bare skin, “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
She glances up to catch a glimpse of Rhiannon’s expression. Grinning, she adds, “It’s too bad you’re going to have to cover up after I’m done with you."
Soleil Whitaker 07/07/17 “You always know what’s going on in my head, Rhiannon,” she states, sure that her wife knows her mind is only ever on the love of her life. There is no room in the confines of her head to fit anything other than thoughts of the angel.
She sits up some, hands finding their way under Rhiannon’s shirt. “As for what I want to do to her, well…” - a smirk takes command of her lips - “I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Perhaps tonight? If you're up for some fun?"
Soleil Whitaker 07/07/17 Soleil lets out an involuntary whimper. F*ck. The sensation of Rhiannon’s teeth and lips against her neck is almost overwhelming at this hour, and she shifts in attempt to gain some control. But, her wife is stronger than she looks, and with knees planted firmly on the mattress, hands tangled in blonde hair, she is almost immovable. Soleil's eyes widen at Rhiannon’s final assertion.
“Are you sure?” she inquires, eyes scanning the angel’s face for any trace of uncertainty. So trusting and confident in her love for Rhiannon, Soleil sees flirting as a game. Harmless? For the Whitaker women, yes. Manipulative? More so than Soleil cares to admit. Her new friend, Vee, is simply caught in the middle.
Soleil Whitaker 07/07/17 Soleil is jolted out of a peaceful slumber by the sound of her wife's shrieking voice. She lifts her arms to shield her face from an onslaught.
She blinks a few times, her enraged wife coming into focus finally. Her fingers find their way around Rhiannon's wrists, and she tugs her arms down to her sides. "Baby," she coos, "You're not going to prison. Vee is a friend. You know you're the only one for me." She stares up at the woman, gaze soft with genuine love and adoration. She's surprised, and frankly, rather wounded by Rhiannon's outburst - surely her wife knows that she has no intention of being more than friends with Vee.
Rhiannon. I know you're not their biggest fan, but they were my parents. They did provide for me, you know.
I'm sorry I left without saying anything. I should've at least left a note. My head has been in all different places lately.
Soleil Whitaker 07/03/17 Funny you should say that, I was just thinking about that time on the hood of the Mustang. Outside the brownstone? Remember?
I think Margot's a little too preoccupied with the Russian dolls she bought to notice, babe. She's... like, fascinated?
You can hold on to the sides of the counter if need be. And if you think you're going to be too loud, let me know what you'd like to bite down on.
Soleil Whitaker 06/30/17 “You’ve got a one track mind tonight, gorgeous,” Soleil laughs, hands finding their place on Rhiannon’s thighs. She nods in silent consent, letting her wife know that is exactly what she wants now, and always. A lifetime of love, intimacy and sex with Rhiannon is more than Soleil could ask for.
The confession is simple, but resolute. A total sap at heart, Soleil makes note of all the small, seemingly trivial things she loves about her wife. She has two favorite sounds in this world, both of which pertain to the woman with caramel colored eyes: one, her heartbeat, and two, the way ‘I love you’ tumbles from between her lips.
Soleil Whitaker 06/30/17 “Why did you?” she asks before letting out a startled yelp. She doesn’t press for an answer, entirely distracted by the way Rhiannon has woman-handled her. She can only manage to squeak out a ‘yes’ in response.
Soleil Whitaker 06/30/17 This return to normalcy is exactly what she needs, and Soleil can’t help but roll her eyes at the showing of Rhiannon’s f*ckboy nature. She smiles against her wife’s lips, heart fluttering against her ribcage as she leans in for another kiss.
“I love you,” she whispers as she is pulled onto the couch and into Rhiannon’s arms, “You’re my whole heart. My everything.” She takes a moment to caress her cheek, eyes scanning her face, and committing it to memory just as she’s done countless times before. She’ll never get over just how breathtaking Rhiannon is. Every day by her side is nothing short of a blessing.
Soleil Whitaker 06/30/17 Soleil lets out a breathy laugh as she presses her face to Rhiannon’s neck. “I’m sorry, beautiful,” she mutters, “Thank you for letting me sleep, though.” Feeling refreshed, she’s in high spirits, the events of the past days a distant memory in the back of her mind. For the moment, at least.
She shakes her head. Truth be told, the only thing she’s hungry for is intimacy with her wife. Her arms find their way around her slim waist, pulling her up against her body. “Could we just” - she pauses to nod in the direction of the couch - “Sit? Netflix, maybe? Mindless tv? I just… I need to be close to you."
Soleil Whitaker 06/30/17 Soleil is beyond disoriented when she wakes. She jolts upright, eyes searching for any indication of the time. Groaning, she flops back against the pillows, realizing she’d slept the entire day away. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, muscles protesting against the swift motion, and slowly, she shuffles out into the rest of the apartment in search of her wife.
The young woman nods as added affirmation, and her hands immediately return to Rhiannon’s hips. This is the most alive she’s felt in days, and silently, she thanks God for the woman in her arms, acknowledging that without her, she’d be… well, not here, and not who she is now.
More ‘I love you’s’ slip past her lips as Rhiannon undresses her slowly, peppering her bare skin with gentle kisses. This is good - this feels even better. In this current moment, Soleil finds the calmness and the security she’s been craving in the last few days. In Rhiannon’s arms, she finds heaven.
Soleil Whitaker 06/29/17 Naturally, she begins to apologize once more, but is interrupted by a lingering kiss. The sides of her mouth tug upwards into a small smile as she revels in how sweet Rhiannon’s lips taste - once again reminded of how much she loves kissing her wife.
“I missed this,” she sighs, settling in, “I missed you so much.” Her fingers tangle themselves into Rhiannon’s dark locks, tugging her back into another kiss. This one is desperate, and soon it’s a clash of teeth and tongue. Her hands begin to wander from her hair to her hips, fingers grasping to pull her closer. But suddenly, she leans away, breathless. This moment is not about sex, and she is not one to make her wife feel obligated to comply. As much as she missed her, Soleil is content with simply laying in her arms.
Soleil Whitaker 06/29/17 All Soleil can manage through her sobbing are broken apologies. At this point, she’s asking forgiveness for a multitude of things - for her reluctance to open up, for her temper, for the things she cannot express, for the choices she may or may not have to make moving forward. She knows that Rhiannon hadn’t asked for something like this in loving her; she’s aware that there are many things she needs to work on to be a better wife.
But, in this moment, nothing hurts more than knowing that Rhiannon is asking for something Soleil is not capable of doing. Yet.
It is next to impossible for the young Whitaker to just rely on someone other than herself. She has been conditioned to be independent, to rely on nothing but her own capabilities. And as inconvenient - and perhaps, hurtful - as it is to Rhiannon and their relationship, it is not a habit that is easily broken. But, for this woman, Soleil would move mountains.
Her arms unwind from her own frame, and find their way around Rhiannon. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, face pressed to her wife’s neck, “I love you. I do. Always. I’ll be better. I promise.”
She looks up through watery eyes, and Rhiannon is just as beautiful - if not even more so - as the first time she laid eyes on her. She cannot help but lean in to press a kiss to her lips, hoping to somehow convey how much love she holds in her heart for the angel.
She’s not fine, and she knows it. Memories she’d repressed years ago are flooding back into her consciousness, streaming through her purview and disrupting not only her sleep cycle and eating habits, but also the way in which she interacts with others. She can feel her heart breaking in her chest, knowing that the things that haunt her - the things she cannot share with Rhiannon - are just adding insult to injury.
She sighs, head dropping forward in defeat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. The things I’ve seen are unfathomable, the things I know now are… I can't…”
She stops, tears of her own now cascading down her cheeks. An involuntary wail is ripped from the back of her throat, the pressure and stress of the last 72 hours finally bubbling over. She crumples to the floor, arms wrapping around her torso. It is a pathetic scene to be witness to, but Soleil Whitaker has finally found her breaking point.
Soleil Whitaker 06/29/17 Soleil has had very little to say up until this point. With all that is happening at the Compound, all that is going on in her head, she has found it difficult to form and use words on her own. Even in reuniting with her wife earlier in the day, words were scarce. But, the sheer magnitude of Rhiannon’s sadness has her rocked.
“I am not asking you to leave me,” she hisses back, jumping to her own feet as Rhiannon gets up. She stalks to the opposite side of the room, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. She takes a breath before allowing the words to tumble from her mouth. It takes every ounce of self-control not to raise her voice; as angry as she is, even she knows that yelling is not an effective way to communicate.
“It is a struggle because you have the audacity to come here when I asked you to stay in New York. You’ve completely disregarded my wishes because what? You know better?”
Her demeanor shifts, then, from outrage to anguish. "And it’ll be on my head if something happens to you…"
Soleil blinks her eyes open at the sound of her wife’s voice. The statement doesn’t register at first; Soleil is too preoccupied with the sensation of having Rhiannon close. Arms weave their way around her slim waist, pulling their bodies flush; lips find their way once more to Rhiannon’s own.
Abruptly, she pulls away and sits upright, pressing her back to the headboard. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m not upset,” she confesses, “I told you to stay in New York.”
Soleil knows (and accepts) that it is the angel's duty to protect her. But, she doesn’t understand how Rhiannon could be so remiss in listening to her own wife. The young woman cannot seem to express how dangerous it is for Rhiannon to be in Moscow - with Jameson Orlav missing and his wife amidst what some would call a psychotic break, there is no way of guaranteeing her safety. And Soleil is angry with the prospect of allowing harm to come to her.
But, the young woman is terrible at expressing her emotions and articulating her innermost thoughts; it is simply not in her nature to do so. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest, as if to close off her heart to the one person she knows loves her unconditionally.
Soleil Whitaker 06/29/17 The shock and horror of the Orlav laboratory has taken a toll on Soleil's physical and emotional well-being. It is amazing, even in the short 3 days she's been in Russia, how quickly things have changed.
She eats slowly, utensils held precariously in her hands. To her surprise, her body does not revolt against the newly acquired sustenance. Instead, she lets out an involuntary bum of satisfaction as she downs another piece of quiche. She complies when her wife takes hold of her waist, and guides her to the bedroom.
"I know," she responds, fingertips reaching out to trace Rhiannon's facial features, "I trust you." For the first time in days, her eyelids begin to slide shut, and Soleil doesn't fight to stay awake.
Soleil Whitaker 06/29/17 Soleil shuffles into her Moscow apartment. She is angry, of course - irate, even, with how Rhiannon had so blatantly disregarded her wishes. But, her heart softens some as she catches a glimpse of her wife standing in the kitchen. Soleil drops her bag, and hastily collects Rhiannon up into her arms, lips immediately finding the pair she’d missed so much. ‘I love you's’ and ‘I missed you's’ are spilling from her mouth before Rhiannon can manage a response of her own.
This is the most secure she’s felt in days. She is sleep-deprived, and starving; the mere mention of homemade quiche had her mouth watering during her commute to the Arbat district. Her pale complexion exacerbates the dark circles that have formed under her eyes, and her typical posture has been reduced to a hung head and drooping shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still clinging to her wife. The angel will take the apology for last night’s insolent behavior. But, Soleil is apologizing for much more than her callous demeanor.
I know that it must be strange for you to hear, but you do not know the things I have seen here in the last 48 hours.
The text isn't intended to be dismissive, but 'delivered' pops up underneath the text bubble before Soleil can change the wording. She's already cringing, confident that Rhiannon will read it in it's unintentional voice of contempt. Quickly, she taps out another message.
Can we FaceTime? I want your face to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep. As if I was home with you.
How about when you get back from your walk? I'll watch you make dinner. I don't care that it'll be 1 am.
Funny story: I thought the small bottles of wine were complimentary.... racked up a nice bill for myself, instead.
Soleil Whitaker 06/27/17 "I'd crawl through Heaven and Hell to come home to you," she murmurs, "I'd die for you, Rhiannon Whitaker."
The words come out strangled, but she hopes that her wife will know them to be true. Desperation is palpable in the way she presses her lips to Rhiannon's, the expression of love mingling with the taste of salt on her tongue. What feels like a lifetime passes before Soleil's phone chimes. The Uber is here.
They load the car in silence, and even Fish is beginning to realize the gravity of the situation at hand. Soleil knows that one last glance back will drive her to tell the young man in the front seat to stop and let her out, so she drops her gaze to her phone.
Soleil Whitaker 06/27/17 On any given normal morning after, Soleil would pad into the bathroom to check her neck and chest for hickies. She would then march back into the bedroom, and proceed to wake her wife with a pillow to the face.
But, this morning is not normal. No, this morning is one Soleil has been dreading since she received an urgent email from Elouise Orlav. Soleil has a flight to catch. Her bag had been packed the night prior, dog crate been prepped, and both have been set out by the front door. And yet, she still drags her feet through her morning routine.
An overwhelming amount of pain and miserable longing sits heavy in her chest as she makes a final sweep of her belongings. Passport, wallet, phone & laptop, duffel, Fish. All she’ll be missing is the love of her life.
“I’ll miss you riotously,” she states, fingers entangling themselves in Rhiannon’s thick hair. She hopes Rhiannon knows this already, but she figures there’s no harm in reminding her. “You’ll be on my mind constantly. You’ll be my first and last and only thought. I promise."
Soleil Whitaker 06/27/17 Soleil’s emotions change as quickly and as frequently as the weather, and she’s aware that it can be rather irritating to the average person. So, she is forever grateful that despite how very little command she has over her own emotions, Rhiannon has shown nothing but patience and devotion. All she can do is allow for her feet to carry them over to the bed.
She’s whispering ‘I love you’ over and over again, as if to make up for all the days she’ll miss saying it in person. And then she’s laying her wife down against the pillows, lips hovering just far enough away from Rhiannon’s own.
The words are off her tongue before she can even think to stop them. She apologizes with her head hung, as the heat of shame rises in her cheeks. She’s being a brat, she knows that full well. But, the thought of being apart is getting the best of her. Swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, Soleil takes a deep breath.
“I trust you,” she says, hands lifting to cup Rhiannon’s cheeks, “And I trust Elouise. I just, I don’t want to be without you. I can barely handle when you leave for work.”
Soleil realizes, then, how pathetic and childlike she sounds, and her demeanor shifts. Suddenly, her hands are on the backs of Rhiannon’s thighs, pulling upwards to lift the angel. “Can I have tonight with you?” she asks once Rhiannon’s legs are locked around her waist, “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so I just… I want to love on you."
Soleil Whitaker 06/26/17 Soleil can’t stop the silent tears; no amount of willpower would be sufficient enough to do so, after all. She clings to Rhiannon as they make their way up to the bedroom, and she wishes - oh, how she wishes - she could bottle the sensation of being close to her wife. She’s fighting to stay present in this moment, but it already feels like she’s thousands of miles away.
“I don’t… I can’t go, Rhiannon,” she says, shutting the bedroom door quietly behind her. She stops to lean her head back against the wood, eyes sliding shut as if to stop more tears from falling. Her hand lifts to clutch at the locket around her neck.
Perhaps to her own detriment, Soleil is loyal. And right now, she’s being tested. She’s being pulled and torn in all different directions, but at the end of the day, she is faithful to the woman who owns her heart and soul. Although she knows little of why she’s being recalled to the Order’s headquarters, Soleil is already overwhelmed with all the possibilities.
Soleil Whitaker 06/26/17 Soleil’s arms immediately lift to wrap themselves around Rhiannon’s slim waist. She’s already booked an early morning flight, and it won’t take her very long to throw some clothes into a duffel. For now, her focus is on making the most of her time with Rhiannon.
Twenty-four hours is a short period of time, especially considering the given situation. Since getting married, the Whitaker women have spent no more than mere hours apart. Now, there’s the chance they’ll go weeks without physical contact. And Soleil’s heart aches at the thought.
There are no words. At least, none Soleil can deem as appropriate for the moment. Instead, she settles into her wife’s arms, forehead dropping to Rhiannon’s shoulder. She takes the time to revel in the warmth and security she finds there, trying (and failing, miserably) not to think of how riotously she’s going to miss it while away.
Soleil Whitaker 06/26/17 Soleil cringes at how Russian vodka sears the back of her throat. She coughs once, and shakes her head. “Liquid lunch,” she responds before offering the second shot to her wife, “You might want it.”
The Order is recalling its members back to the capital, and Soleil knows that there’s a storm brewing. Jameson Orlav has been absent for the past few weeks, and Soleil’s instinct tells her that it hasn’t been the kind of absence due to work and business. Nevertheless, she doesn’t pry when speaking with Elouise. She’d much prefer for the tall blonde to volunteer information, as unlikely as that wish may be.
She’s uncapping the bottle of Stolichnaya once again even before Rhiannon can respond. Soleil isn’t quite sure how she’s going to break the news that she needs to return to Moscow; she knows how her wife feels about her affiliation with the Order, and hyperaware of how wary she is of her friendship with Elouise. But, during her meeting with Colin, her phone had chimed, denoting that she had an unread email marked ‘urgent’ sitting in her Inbox.
I only agreed to meet with Colin because he knows a lot about audio programs in New York. He's doing me yet another solid.
Colin's an old friend, one of the few I had while living here. He knows the higher-ups at the Center for Innovation.
Do your coworkers not get suspicious of how often you go to the bathroom? And aren't you ever concerned that they might walk in if you stay in your office?
I missed you today. I'm sorry I had to run out as soon as I woke up, was running late for a meeting.
I wanna get close to you, feel all of you under my hands. I just... I love you so much, I want you to feel it.
Soleil Whitaker 06/23/17 I'm always missing you. But, it was really nice to just lay in your arms, you know?
Soleil Whitaker 06/23/17 Babe. Margot isn't dead. I'm just not sure if she's here or at her new apartment.
I mean, I don't know how else to prove to you that I only want you, forever. No one makes me feel the way you do.
I'm not worried, babe. I just hate when men think they're entitled to a pretty woman. Like, f*ck off.
The look on his face when I told him you're my wife was priceless. Nothing better than crushing a male ego..
Now, let's go. This restaurant has three Michelin stars, so It took hella long to get a reservation.
Soleil Whitaker 06/20/17 Oh, good. You're starting to accept that I have the natural tendency to bite.
You can't fight Susanne because she's the woman who decides. We need to maintain a healthy, working relationship with her if we want Wilson to come home.
We're all gonna be great together. Think of how well he got along with Fish and Luna. How natural he looked here.
This is wonderful. I didn't think it could get much better, but just thinking of having Wilson home with us is...
I can't even begin to describe how good it's going to feel. Even if the fridge is stocked with juice and finger foods.
If we were on a sinking ship, and someone yelled, "grab two things you love!" I guarantee the first thing you'd go for is my boobs.
To wake up next to you every morning is the greatest honor I could ever possibly fathom. You're the love of my life, you're the reason I'm here. You're the best to and for me, and I will never have the words to sufficiently express what you mean to me.
Soleil Whitaker 06/18/17 I'm gonna take a bite, regardless of what you order. Marriage is just glorified food sharing.
Whatcha feeling for dinner? I'm torn between pasta and that swordfish that looked good the last time we went.
You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Can you blame me for wanting to show you off?
Let's go on that walk. Then we can come home, and I can stare at you for a little while longer. Okay?
I know you've taken charge of the laundry, but I also know that grass stains are a b*tch to deal with.
There was like, maybe a week between Wendy's and Nick's. You were pretty forward when we left the bar.
You're right, babe. You two had real feelings for eachother. It's rude of me to trivialize and diminish that fact.
Now we have the house to ourselves. Margot agreed to move into my apartment, we talked about it earlier today.
Soleil Whitaker 06/15/17 Yes, you can. You know my body better than anyone, of course you can help it.
You may be right about the whole 'transcends time' thing, but me saying that I love you most and forever isn't stupid.
I know it's your job to protect me, but I'm not entirely defenseless. You, of all people, should know that because you know who I am, what I am.
I'm sorry I angered you last night, Rhiannon. I hope you know I was joking about therapy. It was callous, and I wasn't thinking. But, I meant it when I said that you're all I want and need. You're absolutely everything to me.
Rhiannon. You know I love when you're assertive in bed, but I'm sensing something else is going on now.
Soleil Whitaker 06/12/17 I just, sometimes I try to have a tender moment with you, and it always backfires.
Soleil Whitaker 06/12/17 I own that apartment. I worked like a dog, played a couple shows to afford it.
It's no bigger than a shoebox. Total strangers have been renting it out for months now, it doesn't feel like home anymore.
If I were so fortunate to come back to this world after I die, I'd find you. In whatever vessel you've taken. I'd know you in any form.
I'm not so sure about that, but I'm certainly going to try. I already love Wilson, and we're still in the beginning stages of the adoption.
I just didn't have time. You know my past. It wasn't particularly conducive to time spent thinking about things like this.
I'm better about that, now. I just... I never thought I'd be here. I didn't have the time to think about getting married, about starting a family.
You're the best for me. You're everything I could ever ask for, and more. The love you show me day in and day out baffles me because never in my life did I think I'd find something so pure.
I'd rather sin within the confines of our own home, I suppose. Especially if it's that kind of outfit.
You have all of my attention, all the time. You're the only one I want to pay attention to, anyways.
My parents were Catholic. I've only ever known the Catholic church, although I'm sure it's changed some since I left.
I fell away from religion after the accident and sh*t, but meeting you, loving you? It's made me think that maybe there is a God.
The phrase is definitely not a thing. But, I would absolutely not oppose if you wanted to prove the act is a thing.
Soleil Whitaker 06/03/17 Soleil almost rolls her eyes at the sappiness of Rhiannon's words, but struck by their sincerity, she can only smile. She sits silently for a moment, allowing for Rhiannon's affirmations of love to settle in her heart. Finally, she replies, arms slipping around her wife's slim frame to pull her closer, "I don't know how I deserve you."
Truth be told, Soleil knows she’s not worthy of the angel. Rhiannon is too pure, too good for the mortal realm, and so her choice to remain present continually baffles the young Whitaker. Nevertheless, she is beyond grateful, and she recognizes that her own purpose on this Earth is not simply to be a part of The Order, but rather, to be a constant in Rhiannon’s life. To love, support, cherish her in all the ways she knows how. Perhaps it’s a trivial existence, but for Soleil, it is more than enough to get her up each morning.
Soleil was teetering on the edge of intoxication, and Rhiannon was using the night's high to her advantage. Not that the younger woman cared at all. She was too busy being mesmerized by the way her wife moved, and by revealing red dress she had on. It made saying 'no' admittedly very difficult.
"Let's sign before we return to Moscow." Although her mind and judgement might've been impaired by the booze and feverish dance music, Soleil meant it. She was ready to start a life anew with the woman she loved - she'd always been ready, afterall.
"Yeah, maybe. But, you --" was all she could manage before she was pulled into a fervid kiss. She blinked as Rhiannon pulled away, slightly discombobulated from being embraced so abruptly. Goddamn, this woman was hot.
She could only smile at what Rhiannon said next. Although she was getting better about her insecurities, Soleil still sometimes worried that her bride was unhappy in their marriage. Hearing Rhiannon vocalize her feelings, in that moment, in that particular setting, made Soleil beam with pride. "I'm really glad we're doing this," she responded, leaning in close to Rhiannon's ear, "It's about time we had a night out together."
She smirked as she stepped away, giving Rhiannon some space to breathe and to dance. She apologized half-heartedly - sorry for smothering and for being perhaps a tad too possessive, but not at all sorry for turning their dancing into a spectacle for all to see. Rhiannon was a very, very attractive woman, that was plain to see. So, Soleil was determined to make it clear to the world that Rhiannon was a married woman.
For the first time in days, Soleil felt comfortable. And happy. And at ease. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the heat of the club that left her feeling loose and relaxed. Either way, New York was finally starting to feel like a vacation.
Soleil sauntered over to her wife, the heavy bass of the music pounding in her ears. She'd had a few drinks, and now she was ready to dance. It'd been a while since she'd indulged in the nightclub scene but, she was in New York City with her gorgeous wife. How could she resist going out to show off?
She took Rhiannon by the waist and pulled her close, their bodies pressed flush against eachother. It didn't take much to let the music dictate her movements, and soon, the couple was turning heads. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught two men staring. "Looks liks we've got some admirers," she teased before pressing a long, searing kiss to Rhiannon's neck.
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