. losing my edge

[sylvia stoltz]

---SYLVIA didn’t know what she was doing here. Here being, more specifically, the home of her partner. The day before had been a blur; fuzzy and unrealistic in the compartment of her mind. She had woken up in a cold sweat, her head pounding so hard she felt as though her skull would crack open. The sheets she lay in felt heavy and stale, like a layer of concrete had been recklessly poured upon her body as she slept. The young brunette had a sensation of claustrophobia, and had seemingly gone stir crazy in a moment of consciousness in her London apartment. When her feet hit the wooden panels and she made her way to the kitchen it was as though she was wading through water. It wasn’t until she was halfway through her bowl of Cheerios that she realized why she felt so ill, why emptiness loomed upon her and the sudden caress of desperation was enough to make her sick. She was stuck for a reason to stay where she was, and the excuses that were so easy to explain before were like swallowing silver razors. Her career seemed dismal and cheap when compared to the likes of Simba. That morning there was a sudden click in her mind, like someone had pushed a button and she was realizing how absolutely insensibly she was behaving.

---THE actions that followed her realization were brash, and she had likely left a few stunned in her path. Her boss hadn’t even spoken to her when she called, disbelief hung when she told him, and after a minute of awaiting a reaction she hung up herself. She’d left all her things on her desk, not even bothering to go in and say her goodbyes. She’d likely be receiving a few angry Facebook messages from her coworkers. Cecily Hammond, in particular, would be furious at her. The two had started out as interns together, and had since formed a friendship. Following quitting her job, Sylvia had called a real estate agent, the first one she laid eyes on in the phonebook. He sounded exuberant and almost too enthusiastic about her call, normally that would alarm her but in this case she’d tolerate anyone. She’d given all her furniture to her brother, though Martin was hopeless. He’d probably end up selling every piece of it; he was a junkie that would ultimately sell his left arm for a hit if he could. Her books, dvds, and clothes that she had originally planned on taking with her had gone to second hand shops. Where as her favorite outfits, photo albums and other memorabilia’s had been crammed into a small black suitcase. Lastly, after all preparation had gone through, she booked her ticket for the following day.

---AFTER enduring an eight hour plane right, watching four movies and one episode of Sex and the City (embarrassingly enough),, having someone else’s suitcase falling on her – as a result having a small bruise on her forehead - , and taking a taxicab to the middle of the city, she had finally arrived. And now she stood, staring up at the red bricked building, the large panes of glass staring right back up at her portraying vacancy from within. Her petite frame stood small in front of the apartment building, her hand pressed her cell phone next to her ear. She barely listened to his words as she got his voicemail, his familiar voice licked past her ears and she ended the call. Carting the suitcase behind her, and dangling keys in the next, she let herself in. Her conscience told her that this was an invasion of privacy, a raid into Simba’s life. It was obvious that he hadn’t a clue she was coming, shoes were strewn everywhere in the hallway and she left her suitcase at a stand still as she tossed a couple of pairs into the closet. The kitchen wasn’t much of an improvement; mountains of plates stacked up, empty soup cans, and half eaten meals. She couldn’t bother being annoyed; her mind and body were too exhausted to summon the effort. She let the keys sit on the marble countertop, and sought the comfort of the couch in the living room. Her tiny frame crashed on top, her head perched on the arm rest, while her fingers worked on pulling out her ponytail and her feet wiggled her shoes off. Drained, and cozy in her own space she let her eyes flutter close.

tagged , simba/rae
music , for emma - bon iver
outfit , lazy!
notes , it sucks, and took a long time. JUDGE ME.

[simba stoltz]

- - - - Everyday was nearly identical; Simba was turning into a robot that simply went through the motions of the day until one of the boys on base decided his life wasn't exciting enough and attempted to drag him from his apartment. Granted he went out at least twice a week, it was nothing compared to the life he once lived when it was single and travelling the world. Getting up well before the sun had even made it's rounds, spending more time eating breakfast than getting dressed for the day, making his way to work on base, a round at the gym, and then home for the evening. He was not one to dwell on his misfortunes or be a complete shut in, but he wasn't even sure what to do anymore without his wife around. Prior to getting hitched, he had simply gone with the flow of life and done anything he felt like doing. Now it wasn't quite that easy because there was another person in his life that he had to think about - even if she was across the Atlantic at the present time. The prior night just happened to be one of those nights where a couple guys from the base showed up at his doorstep, pounding on the door and rattling the frame before he opened up with a cocky smirk and an attempt at acting like he couldn't be happier to run off to do whatever it was they wanted to do for the evening. As per usual, it was a tacky little bar in Brooklyn that all the military boys hung out with. It wasn't anything amazing, but it was small and everyone knew it as being a military bar, which meant there was generally a surplus of women searching out some attractive soldier to take home for the evening. It was alcohol with a side of temptation every night.

- - - - Just like every other night that he showed up at the bar, there were men drinking cheerfully, girls fawning over the men - half of them still in uniform from whatever activities might have been held on their respective bases - and either sports or news broadcasts on the small televisions mounted throughout the bar. Simba sauntered into the building in the usual jeans and t-shirt, having no real desire to impress anyone or really be out that night, and made a b-line directly for the bar where the elderly man served him a beer instantly. Even the bartender already knew his habits. It wasn't long before a couple guys came up, clapped him on the shoulder and ordered shots for themselves and a couple girls that already seemed to have had one too many to drink. A soldier he vaguely knew from color guard drills as Corporal Voreno cheered loudly as everyone downed the drinks before demanding they do another round. Another couple of beers and the next thing Simba knew, there was an attractive redhead sitting on his lap doing her best to attempt to keep his attention as his vision blurred but attempted to focus on the conversation he was having with the other guys at the table. How he even managed to end up sitting in a corner table, with a girl on his lap, or with these boys that he barely knew, was beyond his comprehension or concern. Even though most of the night was a complete blur, Simba still had enough sense to call a cab to get himself home - the redhead clinging for dear life to his arm - and stumble out of the stale bar into the cold night air.

- - - - Beneathe the street lights there were a few cars waiting to take people home and a few drunks making fools of themselves; otherwise the street was fairly quiet and nearly dead. Simba could vaguely hear the girl rattling on about nonsense facts in between attempts at tugging his face closer to her own, only to result in his huffing loudly in frustration and shift feet impatiently. The second it arrived, he detached himself from the girl silently and loaded himself into the yellow vehicle. The girl stood confused as he shut the door on her face and instructed the cabbie where his destination was. By the following morning, Simba could barely even remember most of the night, let alone the cab ride home, but he remembered the girl he left frustrated on the curb at two in the morning. He had passed out on the couch without even shedding any of the clothing he'd worn the night before, except for the shoes that were kicked off while he was attempting to stumble through the apartment. Waking up only due to the sun filtering through the blinds across his face, Simba groaned the second he realized that he had slept in way past his alarm, which was still buzzing softing in the other room. Pushing himself from the couch, Simba wiped the saliva from his chin and forced himself into his bedroom to shut the device off and gather clothing that at least smelled decently before he went out to run errands for the rest of the day. The entire process felt like it was dragging on for hours and Simba couldn't speed up time. He knew he needed to shower and rinse the smell of whiskey and beer from his skin before he could function for the rest of the day.

- - - - Showering gave him plenty of time to clear his head of the fuzzy green lights that flashed before his eyes and attempt to be functional. He couldn't wrap his own head around why his nights were so predictable. Everytime he had the opportunity to have an affair, everytime he had set his mind on the concept that if Sylvia was going to stay in England that it was his every right to find comfort in another womans body, he had backed out. Regardless of whether he was intoxicated or completely sober, there was something in the pit of his stomch that ached and screamed at him to stop before it went to far. At the end of the day, the boy was just as his brothers of the Army said - completely and utterly whipped by a woman that wasn't even living in the same country as himself. Dressing himself after his shower, he managed to make his way out of his apartment to begin running the general errands - paying bills, checking his p.o. box, and at the end of it all, ending up at Sullivan's gym to work out his hangover and anger at feeling so completely abandoned in New York. Not that he was helping the situation by staying. Once he had sufficiently worked up a sweat, the boy showered, re-dressed in his jeans and headed home to eat his frozen dinner and most likely send Sylvia a long email about why she needed to come home. What he didn't expect was to come home to an unlocked door and everything to be so blatantly off.

- - - - The instant he registered that his wife was the reason for this change, his mind completely went blank. He dropped his gym back on the floor where he stood and crossed his arms over his chest in confusion. He had not had a single clue that she would be visiting and the entire scene left him wondering what he was supposed to be doing. Approuching the couch in four quick strides, he dropped his weight onto the edge of the coffee table - not even considering the fact that he was a husky male and the top was made of glass - and perched his elbows on his knees. Simba was still in a state of shock but he couldn't even do more than stare at her. This was precisely why he couldn't cheat on her; she was perfect in every way in his eyes. They may have gotten married in a haste, but he felt the instant connection that even now shocked him to submitting to her almost every whim. syliva, wake up, will you? Shaking her as gently as possible before continuing to speak to her, despite the fact that he couldn't visably tell if she was awake or not. what the fucking fuck, sylvia? when did you get here? why didn't you tell me you were coming? stopping his line of questioning, Simba huffed loudly, visably throwing a temper tantrum before relaxing his shoulders and pulling her into a firm hug. how long are you even here for? His words came out much softer this time, genuinely missing the girl and not wanting to het his hopes up too much. It was certainly surreal seeing her on his couch after the countless conversations in which he had begged her to come home - which regardless of England being her native home, his mind told him that her home was simply where ever he decided to plant himself. She was his wife after all.

status finito!
music late night talk shows are my addiction.
notes this was so long and sucktacular, pardon. <3

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[sylvia stoltz]

---SYLVIA wasn’t long into her jet lagged oasis before she was plucked right out of it. Her mind was groggy and fuddled, and she tucked her head beneath her elbow in a cat-like fashion. Her other hand grasped the arm prodding at her and pushed it away. This motion, being woken up, brought her back to high school, where Martin would jostle her away unsuccessfully before pouring a cold glass of water over her head. This was followed by glass-shattering shrieks and the slamming of doors, echoed in the dank quarters of her childhood home. fucks sake, she retorted in a mumble, grabbing at the arm once more to throw it back at the body it belonged to. The voice continued, and anxiety ragged through her chest as the young brunette gradually achieved consciousness. She arched her neck to look up at the blue eyes staring down at her, her own eyes like brown moons, so disproportionate on her mocha face. jesus, she apologized softly, sorry. Her web of fingers clasped the frame of the couch and she heaved her skinny mass upward to sit with her legs folded beneath her. five minutes ago, she’d hardly spoken, finding it difficult to fit a sentence in his loop of words. Had it been five minutes? Realistically it probably been a lot longer, she’d look at her watch and it’d tell her an hour had passed since she kicked off her trainers. Sleep sucked you in, it was like fucking Inception. The girl was pulled into an embrace, and in that quick half a second she felt revived, easy in his solid arms. Her arms hung tightly around his husky shoulders, relaxing on the built tension of his muscles. Like a picture in a frame.

---THE girl couldn’t count how many times she had felt resentment toward Simba, certainly not in the range of her ten fingers. It wasn’t even as though she was bitter toward her husband, because he couldn’t help be in the situation he was in. The expectations of marriage and the restrictions his career had offered him were the real elements that brought out her anger. They were both so naïve when they first married, so bright eyed and full of hope. Sylvia certainly thought it was going to be easier than it turned out to be. In hindsight, Noah and Allie probably turned out to be a lot worse. Things could have been a lot tougher with James Marsden thrown into the mix. In all seriousness, Sylvia assumed that waiting for Simba’s return, living without him as she did before he came into her life, would be like a walk in the park. But the toxic combination of fear, loneliness, and simply feeling like she was missing out, flipped and etched away at her pride. The girl felt shelved, dusty, worn out, so sick of waiting for something to happen. Loathing the fact that they couldn’t plan ahead, and draw out their life as they envisioned it to be. She’d be sitting on the sofa listening to the news about a soldier who was killed, leaving behind a wife and a son, and think about what she’d do in that situation. How would she move on from that? There’d be weeks where she wouldn’t hear from her husband, days where she’d move around in complete numbness worrying if something had happened. These days any phone call or knock at the door were a complete shock to her system, it was like heaving a boulder behind her as she went to answer it. And after stressing three nights in a row she’d receive mail, and she’d flip out completely, writing an antagonizing letter filled with as many cusses as her pen would allow.

---BREAKING their contact, her hands trailed down the length of his arms, brushing her thumb against his callused skin before resting her hands on her thighs. Sylvia searched his face hazily; his small laugh lines visible even in the limelight of his somber face. re-lax, she spoke coolly, the words rolling off her tongue as she hands lifted up in mock-meditation posture. i packed everything, her eyes focused on him momentarily and rolled as she retracted her statement. well, not everything. i mean, i gave a bit to martin, a bit to charity. all the important things came with me, i brought you sweets as well, the brunette cocked her head to the doorway, thinking for a moment, her lips pursed delicately. i just got so sick of it, so i’m here, she moved her hands to her words, rambling in her distinct voice. i don’t know for how long, either. it all depends on when you leave.. i should have called, i know, it happened really fast Sylvia brushed her hand against the brown stubble on his face, pulling him in for a warm kiss, really, sorry, i’ve probably taken ten years off your life.

tagged , simba/rae
music , losing my edge , lcd soundsystem (addicted c;)
outfit , lazy!
notes , love yours, hate mine <3

[simba stoltz]

- - - - Ew this blows. there's dialog here

- - - - Ew this blows. there's dialog here

status unfin.
music nada.
notes i've been so lazy, lo siento!

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