<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/23/c3/4e/23c34e967947604ad5e23b3ed80458ff.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Helena: Huntress<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>Oversized Gray sleepshirt and a pair of cotton pajama shorts (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b0/9e/a4/b09ea40cb181c558bbf821b9a9feda8a.jpg)<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>Thursday, August 20<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>Very late evening, about 11:30PM EST<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Helena’s single bedroom apartment in NYC<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Getting carried away!<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Geoforce<br/><hr/>She tried to ignore him, but admittedly he was a difficult man to ignore. So it was the mockery of it, the farce, the scene, the principle of the matter since he had helped himself to her locks and invited himself in. Brion tried to defend himself but Helena knew how she felt. She remembered the feeling as the men had teamed up against her, made her feel wrong for the anger she felt, the violence she could enact. And then would turn around and ask her to exhibit those exact traits she felt condemned for. Helena knew she was being unfair towards Brion, unfair, rude, and frankly bitchy, but his face brought up too many memories. The young man always made her a bit self-conscious, like she was questioning her own motives and it made her feel.......<em>weak</em>.<br/><br/>“Whatever,” came her standard brushing of emotions off when he finished. “I’m still not going. What the-Hey! Asshole!” Her next statement was cut off when he unexpectedly leaned over to lift her bodily off the couch and sling her over his thick shoulder like a bag of rocks. Helena reacted without thinking, instinct triggered by anger a bit too forthright, and she lifted her right hand that still held the beer bottle and brought it down with such force it shattered upon impact on Brion’s skull. Brown glass rained down his back and all over her carpet, tiny little droplets of leftover beer trickling through his hair strands and perfuming it with the scent of lime and hops. A flicker of regret traipsed her soul but then he spoke nonchalantly as if a mere flea had nipped him.<br/><br/><em>That’s right,</em>she reminded herself.<em>He’s like a fucking walking boulder. Beer bottle ain’t going to do -shit- to him. </em><br/><br/>“Hey! Stop it. What are you-<em>no</em>! Don’t go in there! Don’t go in-<em>Fuck</em>! Stop it! These are my things, put me......put me down or I swear I will-Ughhhh!” Brion carted her around her apartment, opening her closet doors and finding her duffel bag of gear, but right when he was about to grab it he would feel the razor sharp claws of Helena digging into his back. That must have annoyed him because she was ranting with full profanity with no end in sight when the loud, obnoxious clap of his palm smacking her upturned ass on his shoulder interrupted her with a violent gasp. “You did -not- just hit me, you little asshole. You know what?? Take me to this little club of superpeople, let me kick your ass in front of them....embarrass you in front of your little idol-<em>Ha</em>! That’ll show you, you punk....”<br/><br/>Brion seemed extremely unconcerned with her threats as he resumed gathering her things for her, keeping her thighs banded against his chest with a bit more force than necessary to keep her in place. When the duo reached the door he grabbed the first pair of shoes which just so happened to be a pair of UGS boots before storming out of her apartment and down the hallway.<br/><br/>Helena grumbled the entire way before she was unceremoniously thrown into the Jeep, the boots thrown into her lap, and her bag tossed in the back seat. Helena’s jaw dropped at Brion’s roughness as the door was slammed shut and she visually followed his path as he walked around to the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. She looked down at the UGS and sighed.<br/><br/>“Man, you got me out here looking like the most<em>basic</em>of white girls.....” nonetheless she shoved her bare feet into the calf-high boots and settled in, still in her pajamas with a severe attitude. “Do you at least have snacks??” She asked suddenly. “And where the hell are we going anyway?”