Black Mathematics
Summary: Nitrim turns to his confessional source to get his feet under him.
Date: 14/September/2013
Related: None

September 22 — Nitrim's Apartments - Volkan

Stepping into his room from the hallway, Nitrim heels the heavy bedroom door closed and flips the light controls to select his mood setting. Quiet chamber music begins to spill from the speakers in the corner as the lights dim to complete darkness, rising up once more in a bloody red glow that makes his bedroom look like a photographer's dark room. Everything is painted in darker shades now, reminiscent of the blur over his eyes when dropping his old drug of choice. Everything is better when it's red.

As he watches the walls and furniture adjust to the filter, he slips his coat off of his shoulders and peels the black, sleeveless tunic off of his body. His short, blonde hair musses in the process, sticking this way and that as he pads across the floor towards the supple, relaxed form of the woman he's chosen to entertain this evening…

"I know we don't spend as much time as we used to anymore, baby, c'mere…" Nitrim coos softly as he reaches through the opaque haze of the one-way shield to offer his arms to Dahlia, her scales made purple in the eerie lighting. She looks up from her coiled state in the corner of the lush, ash-rock and shrub-laden habitat and starts forward with an excited speed to sidewind over to his naked arm. "Yeah, baby, I'm home again…how was your day?"

The scales twist and turn as her milky underside presses against the black ink on his forearms, wrapping her way up the side of his arm until she comes to a perch with her long, black tongue flecking over Nitrim's shoulders. Nitrim grins at her, his head swaying from side to side as the two sniff and inspect each other.

"No shit? Hell I'm sorry, girl, I'll leave the channel on the sci-fi station. All that news and they still find the time in to bring some old bitch to teach you how to make buttered squash," Nitrim shakes his head as he steps over to his fridge, pulling out a beer. The muscles of his arm flex as the pads of his fingers bite into the bottle cap. With a hiss, a short, final hiss, the top is opened.

"I ain't gonna miss this time, fuc—hang on. Damn you're all over me tonight." Nitrim laughs, narrowing one eye and tilting his arm. His finger snaps and the bottle cap flies across the room towards the garbage can and lands inside. "-shit that takes talent girl. I bet you wish you had thumbs, you'd be doin' that all day…"

Dahlia, in reply, lulls her head back from the tinkling sound of the bottle's cap striking the wall and looks back to Nitrim's face. Her long, black tongue wiggles quickly in the air as she begins to stare at him.

"All right all right hang on." Nitrim grumbles at her. "You know, how you gonna deal with this when a girl moves in? I get home and you're crackin' the whip 'cus you know I love you." Nitrim steps over to the sofa and lowers himself to stretch with his legs out, nestling into the corner. His arm extends out before him, parallel to his chest with his fingers quirked. "Alright, c'mere, baby, let's talk this one out…"

As part of a ritual that is known to the serpent, her black eyes sway to the new direction his arm has taken and she begins to move again. Her dark scales roll along the contours of his shoulder to slither back down the plane of his arm to brush her chin over his knuckles. All the while, her tongue lashes out, sniffing out the scent of tobacco on his fingertips. Her eyes turn, watching him from the impromptu tree branch.

The two fall into a silence as Nitrim's eyes soften, and he slowly begins to nod.

"Yeah…you saw it on the news today, didn't you?"

Dahlia's tongue flecks. She stares. Nitrim stares back, even as the sigh rolls over his tongue.

"Everyone who knows me is saying it's not my fault, D, but…I knew her." Nitrim slowly starts to admit, frowning to his first true love. "She could be so fucking selfish sometimes and - I don't know - I don't see her killing herself more than I see her havin' a moment of blindness. Maybe just too much in one dose or too many, I don't know." His lips purse to click his tongue twice to keep Dahlia's attention. "But maybe it is my fault. Maybe I killed her, baby."

Dahlia doesn't respond, she never does, but knowing when she's being talked to, she settles into a lazy perch over the webbing of Nitrim's thumb and forefinger, her black eye tilted to one side where she can watch the large man's lips move.

"…everyone kills. I know, baby, I know." Nitrim whispers, his eyes slowly closing as the tightness forming around the corners of his eyes demand. His head rolls back, softly butting against the back of the sofa's upholstery and baring his throat to the serpent in one simple move. "I'm too good at this. It —" Nitrim's jaw freezes in place as the honesty of rattling off his mind halts him. "-it's not right that it's this easy. I don't know why you stick with me, Dahlia. Everyone's happy that I'm back home and so am I, but not like this, you know? It's like everywhere I step, step one is to salt that new move with some kind of bullshit. I get all excited."

His lips curl into a chuckle, which chatters over his teeth towards the ceiling. He has to lower his eyes back to Dahlia, this time to see she's been reaching across the distance towards his collarbone.

"—I know, baby, I get like a little kid about this shit; hopping and pep talks and all that big game." Nitrim replies, lips curling into a smile. "I just don't get how it's so easy for Reena and Bethe, Victor, Devon, all of them. They just know what's right, don't get into trouble, they just kinda slide through this shit with gr-" Nitrim frowns, his brows lowering. "A'ight, that's fair, baby, maybe not Devon but-"

Dahlia finally reaches his chest, the underside of her long, only-neck grazing over the image of her fast on his tight pectoral muscles as she continues on her way to the back of his neck.

"-yeah, that was me, too, wasn't it?" Nitrim quiets. His chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep breath and releases it across Dahlia's scales. Frowning, he presses a kiss to her side, nuzzling the near-plastic feel of her scales with his cheek. "Straight from mourning the guy to mourning me to here's your three month warning on fucking a stranger." Nitrim whispers. "I gotta get this out of my system, baby. Talk to me."

In the blood red lighting, Nitrim's eyes lull to a half-closed state to stare at the wall. Nursing his beer in silence, the snake, a Cobalt Strangler to be specific, glides over the small pocket of room between Nitrim's neck and the back of the sofa. Her tongue lashes out over his skin as she slithers, balancing her weight across his shoulders as her tail end wraps under his armpit, her tail batting softly against his chest. Nitrim closes his eyes, swallowing hard and reaches for her side to feel the brush of her scales under his fingertips. A weight comes over his breathing, his nose flaring just a little more than normal as the skin around his eyes tightens more than he's comfortable with.

"…I know, baby." He whispers, letting out a ragged sigh. "Everyone makes mistakes but you. Just mistakes."

Dahlia watches from behind his neck as Nitrim's arm comes up, brushing his tattooed forearm across the front of his eyes. Through the fog of unintelligible human-speak, the speak he's not talking to her in, the speak she's recently found she can sometimes understand, the snake finds herself not caring, instead clinging to the warmth of the creature she trusts.

She can't understand why his tattoo glistens in one spot as his arm lowers. It doesn't smell like rain.

"Like you," Nitrim's lip twists into a rueful half-smile that rises and lowers as he listens to her. "I gotta be good to them. They count, you're right baby, I gotta make it count. Fucking up is just fucking off if you don't help clean the mess." A soft, ragged laugh crosses his lips. "How'd you get to be so smart, baby?" Nitrim replies, his eyes washing over into white so that he can brush out to the reptile's mind to send her an emotion of love and protection, of defense from mutually assured destruction and the solidarity from not fearing where the next meal will come from.

Satisfied with the feelings that Dahlia registers as being her own, her tongue lashes out softly against Nitrim's neck as she lowers her head, the thousands of muscles beneath her scales settling in for a calm rest.

"I know, baby…I know."

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