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 Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 8:11 pm
Dearest Orah, he wrote with a dramatic flourish. A calligraphy pen in hand, his words came crisp and lilting across the page. His typically pragmatic and meticulous penmanship adopted a unique flair with the use of the mostly-neglected pen, but it served for an excellent (albeit painfully temporary) distraction from his revolting nausea. If you're reading this, you have my sincerest apologies. Upstairs resides my most regrettable corpse, crumpled at the foot of the toilette, as I have met with an insufferable fate. Please do not trouble yourself with discovering the grizzly scene, as it would offend your most delicate senses. I wish for you to remain a pristine and most beauteous flower, untouched by sordid affairs such as these.
Forever yours,
Alois Scholz
Alois rasped out a laugh as he penned out his signature, unquestionably stark in comparison to the curving phrases preceding it. Soon his mirth degraded into a choke, and he retched into the plastic bucket propped next to his bed. Thin strands of bile and viscous egg clung to his tongue, desperate to linger in a taste so vile as to provoke a second round of dry heaves. The Saarlander groaned in exacerbated pain, and he ran a hand over his sweat-slick face as he tried to focus on the tasteless task at hand. After recovering marginally from the incident, Alois folded the parchment paper with the same persnickety attention he exhibited in his bookkeeping, and forced himself off the bed to plant the carefully constructed letter.
His legs ached unbearably, and nearly every step resulted in an intolerable cramping. Even when rubbing his aching muscles as he descended the stairs, it failed to ward off the jolts of pain and strange buzzing sensations that pervaded his legs. With enough wrenching effort and frequent breaks, Alois managed his way into the entryway where he propped the stiff note atop an espresso-stained antique cabinet. With such a stark contrast, the attentive girl would surely notice it.
Afterward, he realized, he should've added a lipstick print to the side of his signature. Hindsight proved a troublesome foe to trounce.
Finally Alois dragged himself upstairs once more, retreating to the makeshift detox haven known as the bathroom. Now the relatively barren room included a pair of blankets, more reading material, a glass of water, a notebook and pen, as well as his MP3 player for the rare moments that he yearned to listen to Eisbrecher while retching out his small intestine. The urge struck rarely, but he retained the device nonetheless.
Upon reaching his blankets, Alois collapsed atop the fine microfleece. Now he only had to wait for Orah's arrival, wherein he'd simply play dead.
Perfect scheme.
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 8:44 pm
The door looked the same when Orah came to it. Same apartment, same key turning in the lock, same entry way as she came into the place she'd been visiting for days now. Inside would be the same young man, torn apart by withdrawal from his drugs... but today was oddly enough different and the young woman found herself standing stupidly for a moment before she reached up to take the paper from the cabinet and close the front door behind her.
The bag Orah carried got dropped in the hallway, ready for her should she find the time to return for it and the book inside. If Alois was well enough to sleep for a while, relieving both of them from the strain of dealing with his detox. Otherwise, if it were one of the worse days, she'd be glad to have worn her faded jeans and over-sized sweater, making it easier to move around on the off chance she needed to clean something or... really whatever. She never knew how Alois would feel at any given time.
Paper crackled as the young woman unfolded the letter and her tiredness seeped out to be replaced with a buzzing adrenaline as her eyes ran over the crisply penned words. Maybe on another day, when she was less raw, she might have thought more through this, but as it was the letter fluttered to the counter in the kitchen and she broke into a run for the upstairs bathroom.
"Alois!" She called as she skidded around the corner and down the hall, sliding into the door frame as she hit the bathroom. The sight of her charge slumped on the floor among his belongings made her heart flutter and Orah dropped to her knees as she grabbed for his shoulder, dreading what she might find. If she hadn't entirely believed the letter, now she was perilously close it, half expecting a cold body to meet her touch. He had jokingly warned her that detox could kill, but she'd never really believed him... she was terrified now that her disbelief would cost him his life.
"Alois?!"
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Posted: Thu Mar 13, 2014 9:22 pm
A rough grasp on his shoulder shook him abruptly. She must've believed the note. She must've taken his tone to heart and paled to the delicate tone of a white orchid before dropping it atop the cold hardwood floors. And she must've grasped the banister stiffly as she climbed the stairs, calling his name with every iota of concern she could possibly muster before crossing the bathroom threshold and gaping at the prone body of the boy she babysat for days now. Alois felt the deep urge to grin, but tried desperately to stave it off - only to find his mind return to the singular cure for his devastating position. Even while holding his breath, nausea inexorably sieged him, and its bitter taste filled his mouth.
Suddenly a shooting pain bolted up his leg, and Alois broke his possum antics to gasp in unconscionable agony. "<******** me," he cussed with a pained hiss. Slowly his inert form curled in on itself as his hands pressed into the taut muscles of his hamstring. "s**t... s**t!" The man groaned hoarsely while his muscles seized, and no amount of placating seemed to remedy their lockup.
When the pain subsided to a tolerable level, he mopped the sweat from his face with a damp sleeve and regarded Orah with a worn but mischievous gaze. "You sounded so worried, Orah. Did you like my letter? I tried quite hard; it is difficult to steady my hand when I can hardly stop my body from shaking." Another shudder washed over him, and his body knitted closer together in response. Despite the stifling heat of the bathroom, Alois shivered and retreated into his blankets.
Death proved a pleasant reprieve, one undeserved like the wings woven across his neck in black inks.
The fact that she worried... Was it basic human kindness? Did that concern amount to the same visceral empathy expressed by the blonde on the night of his chance with death? Perhaps, but not so - Orah lacked the passions so heavily touted by the blonde, and her care was reserved for human life rather than the intellectual behind it. Plainly, she didn't know him - what was there to care about outside of another life lost?
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Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2014 7:17 pm
For just a moment, Orah had thought her fears had come true, and then suddenly... <******** me. She stared in shock as the young man came to life only to writhe in pain on the tile floor, clutching at the cramp in his leg. All she could do was blink at him as her face reddened to a nice, dusky rose and her mouth opened and closed again.
And then, of course, he had to open his fool mouth and tease her about her honest concern for him. Tout that pretentious letter he'd left for her in the hopes she would do precisely what she had done. Like a fool. Like an idiot who cared too much for a man she barely knew, a man who thought so little of her... Emotions cascaded over Orah's open, expressive face; surprise, relief, chagrin, embarrassment...
Reaching out, she slapped his arm with a sharp back hand and then promptly dissolved into tears, clapping her hands over her face in embarrassment. God, she was so stupid... and possibly over reacting, even, after a week, more or less, dealing with him, which only made the whole situation worse. Her shoulders shook as she sat on the tile floor in a heap, her legs tucked up on either side of her and her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and tried to stifle any sounds she made while bringing herself back under control.
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Posted: Mon Mar 17, 2014 10:47 pm
The slap provided a better situational cue that the hands that fled to her mouth, or the tears brimming in her eyes. Logically Alois recognized that he struck a chord, that much was evident in the slight hitching of her breath, or the way her shoulders shook in stifled sobs. But compassion, empathy, remorse... These reactions escaped him, leaving a cold and dead individual to respond to a predicament that demanded warmth or consideration. Alois knew he was at a loss but possessed no means of rectifying it - not with Orah, not with anyone.
How was he supposed to deal with this? Sitting up, Alois groaned softly as another bout of nausea plagued him. Wincing softly, Alois cast his gaze toward the hurt girl, who now looked her age atop the cold tile floor, legs splayed at odd angles and hair reclaiming her face in untamed bouts of slow curls. Inwardly Alois suspected he deserved much more than a simple slap across the arm, Orah lacked the harshness to rebuke him to that extent.
Finally it dawned on him - he could not embark on such pranks with her.
As Alois struggled to stand in a timely manner, the blankets fell away to reveal his unnervingly thin profile beneath a form-fitting striped shirt. Clinging to the counter, he forced his legs to straighten out, despite their vociferous protests in the form of stiffness and pain. Now, more than ever, Alois considered the efficacy of a double amputation. He slid just behind her, careful to avoid even brushing her clothing or scraping her ankle with the bottom of his sock. Finally he rifled through the medicine cabinet, stealing an old menthol cigarette from the pack enclosed therein. The generic lighter soon followed, and Alois offered the pair over Orah's shoulder. "Here," he suggested weakly.
"Maybe it's a terrible choice to offer you such sings, but sometimes ze world explodes. A cigarette helps put it back togezzer. I did not expect you to react zis way; I'm not... Accustomed to people who take deas' so seriously. But... Maybe zat is my own flaw, as I don't understand it terribly well myself." Lately he started to think he suffered some fundamental break in that regard, as if he lacked the components necessary to comprehend it. Suddenly Alois laughed softly, a sullen sound. "I guess I'm worse at apologies zan I sought."
Oh, how he would kill to be getting high right now.
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Posted: Tue Mar 18, 2014 6:24 am
The last thing the young woman had expected to appear over her shoulder was a cigarette. She'd expected... Rebuke, more teasing, quiet uncomfort, or even, as unlikely as it was, some sort of human touch. But her shoulders stilled and she regarded the item for a moment with her glistening eyes before she reached up to gently take it from him.
Orah was starting to realize he was more than she had ever thought. This sort of a guesture fit him and that said things she had been blissfully ignoring, trying to fit him inside the boundaries of what she knew and understood of her world. Turning the lighter over in her fingers, she wondered what it was that had drawn him to pierce through the thick veil that separated her from the real world. She was changing because of it, but that might not be a bad thing.
The guesture of giving her something from his world, the attempt at an apology in his own strange way... Orah softened, immediately forgiving him everything and feeling only embarrassment now at her own reactions.
Cigarette between forefinger and thumb, lighter cupped in her hand, she flicked him a glance but couldn't meet his eyes.
"I don't... I don't know how. I've never smoked before." She said, her voice barely a whisper.
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Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 12:33 pm
Alois laughed softly, and produced no further effort to mock her. "I know - it's obvious enough in how you hold it." Beckoning, Alois motion toward his room. His legs groaned and ached at the notion, at the thought of retreating down the impossibly long hallway back to his cold and dismal room, but he forced himself to clasp the doorframe as a supporting surface and urge himself toward the hall. "Come, you cannot smoke in here. Alex would gut us bos', and it would take days to air it out. I don't care for mens'ols; I would hate to breaz'e zeir stench every time I shower." Afterward he yawned, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and forming a glassy sheen.
Slowly the Saarlander prodded the pockets of his large jacket, producing his own pack with little effort. After plucking a cigarette from its housing, Alois tucked the pack away and placed the cancer stick between his lips. He sighed softly; even the thought of smoking failed to quell his stomach and nerves.
"Orah, gif' me ze lighter. I'll show you how to smoke when we get to a window. Zat is, if I can make it zere wis'out cutting my legs off first..." Alois held his free hand outstretched for the tanned teen to return his lighter, while his remaining hand pressed heavily against the wall out of sheer dependence. Alois suspected that, if he tried to walk on his own, his damnable cramping legs would give out beneath him and he'd meet the floor in an utterly painful situation. Yawning again, Alois pressed on toward the bedroom.
You're so easy to guide along. Were I in better health, I would seize this opportunity more thoroughly, but as it stands, I can't even force myself to walk on my own. How am I to pull you under if I can't pull myself upright? Another yawn, and the tears finally spilled from his eyes. Absently he dried his cheeks with a sleeve. But if I don't manipulate your naivete, what's to stop me from relapsing into old habits? Maybe this was why I chose you, Orah - you prove an admirable distraction against the constant yearning toward morphine.
"If you finish a cigarette, I might actually eat today." However, his stomach lurched at the thought.
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Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 4:31 pm
The brunette blushed as she shifted the cigarette in her fingers, the short, almost delicate stick awkward to her touch. It wasn't her fault she didn't know how to hold it, but that didn't stop the seemingly perpetual embarrassment she seemed to be in around him. As she rose to follow him down the hall, she wondered about what he had given her.
"What's the difference between menthol and what you've got?" She said as she watched him yawn and wipe away tears. It was an unconscious reminder and she scrubbed her cheeks to be sure no trails stained her own dusky cheeks. Reaching, she dropped the lighter into the out stretched hand, unaware of the thoughts he entertained. Maybe luck smiled on her without her knowing... Or maybe it just loved the irony.
Orah would have supported him down the hall, but she suspected he didn't care to be touched, not when he had a tendency to flinch away every time they made contact. Sometimes it was unavoidable, but she wouldn't force herself on him. He'd have to make the treck on his own or stoop to asking for the help. Instead, she shuffled along behind him, close enough she might just be able to catch him if he collapsed, but far enough not to crowd him.
What was it that had made him so... Cold? So reserved? His world seemed so dark, had it always been that way? Had some tragedy twisted him into the man he was today? Everyone had their scars, both skin and soul, but she bore hers far differently than he did... He even knew of her deepest scar, though there were other, more recent ones the usually open girl had kept to herself. Very few people knew about those.
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Posted: Mon Mar 24, 2014 11:10 pm
"Mens'ol is... Most recognizable in cough drops. It's zat cooling sensation you get from eating zem. Zat's really ze only difference; I don't much like ze taste." It felt strange to talk of such mundane aspects when his body shuddered and shook uncontrollably. Bile crept across the back of his mouth and his stomach churned violently enough that Alois genuinely questioned whether he could articulate a full sentence without starting to retch. Another yawn impeded his intentions to elaborate, and the misanthrope soon sank onto the fair ledge of the windowsill to relax his beleaguered legs. "Zey're not bad for clearing your sinuses. Good for after you cry."
"I don't like windows much. Would be nice if zey were tinted." Something anything just let me buy a little more time, just let me go a little longer now "Smoking isn't hard. Just suck air srough ze filter. You'll cough, naturally; ze lungs are not accustomed to smoke inhalation. It's a natural reaction to force it out." After holding the end of his cancer stick to the flame, Alois capped the lighter and returned it to the depths of his jacket pocket. The first drag hardly assuaged his frayed nerves; Alois suspected the tribulations behind detox outweighed the small benefits of smoking. "Just try to blow srough ze screen. Alex will pitch a fit if he smells it in ze house. Occasionally I'll behaf'e for a while and zen reward myself by stamping out a cigarette in his tea. Small victories, you see."
Small victories. Small steps. Small headway.
Life crawled.
Suddenly a gag seized him, and the thick bile coating his stomach soon eked into his mouth. The misanthrope swallowed the bitter taste with a light wince, but he only felt the nausea more acutely than before. "********," he cursed aloud, shoulders sagging in dejection. "Sometimes I wish zis stunt would'f killed me. Of all ze sings I wouldn't haf' to suffer srough..." Like eating, like moving, like trying to form a coherent thought beyond the needle and the vial that decorated his neck. "Orah, if you're feeling adventurous, go downstairs and get ze power drill from ze garage. We could practice trepanation." A hollow, exhausted laugh followed.
And when the strange sense of sentimentality struck him, he cringed slightly with the sudden welling of tears. Old memories hurt, dredged up by the countless hours of sweating out and suffering through this self-imposed punishment. A sigh escaped his brittle frame, followed by a crestfallen smile. "I remember when I first started smoking, I couldn't possibly imagine finishing an entire cigarette. Now I cannot faz'om smoking only a single cigarette a day. Zese sings, zey escalate quickly."
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Posted: Tue Mar 25, 2014 10:10 pm
The explanation made sense, up to a point. As far as she knew, cigarettes only came in the two kinds, normal and menthol. But why? Why have menthol, or regular, or not a hundred other flavors? It was probably not something she was going to understand any time soon and the sound of her companion's voice was a distraction from her wayward thoughts.
The way he moved was worrying, but at this point she felt somewhat at a loss as to what to do for him. Orah was not a nurse, had never dealt with withdrawal like this, or really ever before. It made her feel a little powerless and she regretted a little her sheltered upbringing. Ah well... she'd do what she could to make him comfortable and that would have to be enough. If he'd wanted professional quality help, he'd have gone to a professional. As it stood, he had her and one could assume he'd known what he was getting into when he asked her for this favor.
Orah followed him to the window, the cigarette still held loosely between her slender fingers, and wondered at the odd mention of disliking windows, even though he'd made his slow, painful way all the way over here just to be near one. The explanation on how to smoke was more or less what she had thought, but it didn't really instill in her the knowledge of what to do with the thing he had given her.
As the almost-frail body suddenly seized up and he cursed, the young woman couldn't help the instinctive reach to steady him, to soothe him, and she only realized what she was doing when her hands were half way to his face to cradle it. At the last moment, remembering what she was doing and how he'd jerked away from her the last time she'd touched him, Orah changed her hands' direction to grasp his jacket instead, gently tugging it out as she reached to slide her hand into his pocket.
"You forgot, I need your lighter." She said as she retrieved it. There had been no skin contact, hopefully he would forgive her for her reach. The barest hint of a smile curled her lips as she turned to brace the back of her thighs against the windowsill and toyed with the lighter, trying to find the right hold so she could strike the wheel for a spark. "The drill will have to wait, I think. I don't feel like cleaning up brains and I bet your room mate would kill us if we left blood stains on the floor."
Honestly, she had no idea what trepanation was, but she could guess from the context. The humor was a little dark for her, but it felt fitting. Hopefully he'd appreciate it.
Feeling bold, Orah put the cigarette between her lips and held the flame to it, sucking through the filter in mimicry of what he'd done with his. She couldn't even feel the smoke trickle down her throat, but when it hit her lungs the reaction was immediate and as uncontrollable as sneezing. It was almost startling as she suddenly started coughing, a fist pressed to her mouth as her lungs utterly rejected what they'd just inhaled. Jeez... how did anyone get started if this was what happened? Eyes watering, she gasped to draw in enough clean air to ease the reaction as the unruly cloud of smoke she'd coughed out dissipated. Embarrassment was a perpetual thing for her today, it seemed.
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Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2014 9:05 pm
The sudden tug only registered mildly in his features, earning nothing more than a fleeting glance toward warm brown eyes. Immediately afterward, he returned his gaze to the outside world sprawled below - carefully manicured lawns, various nameless neighbors walking equally nameless dogs, crows lighting atop the power lines to chide those who milled about below. A normal life faced the two, normal circumstances and normal appearances and normal hitches to be thwarted in normal adaptations. He hated all of it, if only to justify his feelings of isolation.
But he chose to ostracize others, as the lesser of two evils - as the preferred alternative to witless company.
Her probing located his lighter without protest, as Alois never raised a finger to impede her progress. Let her rifle his clothes - she would find nothing of merit beyond such smoking paraphernalia. "So I did," he muttered in quiet distraction. Gaze still fixated on the scenes outside, he watched the wind whisper through trees thickening with the change of seasons. Buds sprouted now on lively green branches, and inwardly the misanthrope's mind drifted to childish days of friends whipping friends with those supple switches. The forests proved far thicker in Saarland, he realized - all the better to slowly digest the bodies of heinous acts, far below the barefoot pattering of children playing in the woods.
However, Orah's comment roused him from his musings with surprised laughter. A raw smile formed across his thin lips, worn and frayed from tribulations, but present nonetheless. "I never sought I would hear of such sings from you, Orah. However, you're quite right - Alexandre would skin you alif'e for ze mess alone, and salt your flesh for my murder. For all his fawning over me, I am certain such lengs' are well wis'in his nature." After taking a drag, he sighed softly; smoke plumed from his nose in soft tendrils only to carry through a wayward breeze. Greasy hair splayed across his face in thick tendrils, and he brushed the brittle strands away with an equally emaciated hand.
"Somehow I don't sink you'f seen brains before. It's not so... harrowing as one might sink. Little flecks of rubbery matter, razzer unremarkable overall." He refrained to comment further.
Her cough drew a look of lukewarm amusement, coupled with a thin smirk. "Burns, doesn't it? A stupid habit, really, but who am I to talk? You will find zat it gets easier as you persevere. Just remember, if you leaf' anysing more zan ze filter, no more of your soup." Perhaps it was cruel to wager his own health against hers, but he suspected she would capitulate to such demands regardless. Slowly he closed his eyes as he took a drag. He felt tired... So tired. Exhausted far beyond the limits of his abilities.
"Orah, haf' you done anysing terribly wrong in your life? Lied to your dad? Cheated on an exam? Intentionally stuck gum to ze bottom of someone's shoe?"
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Posted: Thu Mar 27, 2014 9:43 pm
Orah rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, a relieved smile spreading over her face as he laughed at her horrible joke. For once, his smile felt genuine and the laugh... it felt good to hear him laugh.
"Maybe you just haven't seen all of me yet... maybe I've got a thing or too I've been hiding that would surprise you. But then... maybe not." She said, the teasing note in her voice fading at the end. "I'm not all that remarkable. But... just because I don't talk about stuff like that doesn't mean I'm not capable of it."
Most of his comment about his roommate she let wash over her, paying it no heed. Everyone exaggerated, she had no reason to truly believe him. She did make a bit of a face though as he threatened not to eat if she didn't finish her cigarette. She didn't fancy continuing now, but she would, if only because he wanted her to. It was an easy concession to make as she lifted the burning bit of paper and tobacco to her lips to draw it in again, her singular cough less hacking this time. It wasn't as bad, though it was by no means pleasant either. She vaguely wondered if it amused him to see her torture herself, even just with something as mildly benign as this. If he did, well... good. At least he was happy.
His last question was strange though and Orah wondered at the turn his mind had taken. What thoughts rolled under that dark hair to come pouring out between his lips as such a strange question. At first, she opened her mouth to deny it, but found she couldn't... not when she really thought about it.
"I... yes, I suppose. I don't... think there is anyone in the world so perfect that they haven't made some kind of mistake. Its... human, to make mistakes. The only perfect being is God, or so the Catholics say. Budhists would claim Budha was perfect, I think. I'm certainly neither of those..." She studied the smoke in her hand, weighing taking another drag with getting him to drink something. In the end she lifted it to her mouth again, hoping maybe she could get it over with quickly. "I've never done anything... intentionally spiteful to someone, though. Not since... I was really young. Lying, though... everyone does that. No one is entirely truthful..."
Lying was not what was in her head though... no, what she saw behind her soft brown eyes was a form with blonde hair, crumpled on the pavement with a staff with twinned snakes sticking from its chest. His examples were hardly what she would call terribly wrong... what had happened that night had been terribly wrong. All because of her over confidence... because of her lack of judgement and the power to back it up. Death haunted her with guilt, and probably always would... but he didn't need to know that. Let him see the sweet girl from the flower shop and not the scars she wore.
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Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 10:01 pm
"Everyone has somesing to hide," he returned, his gaze never leaving the trees outside. "Zere will always be secrets you only share on your deas' bed, and even still, some will follow you to ze graf'e. But zat is a heavy discussion zat I don't want to haf' right now..." With a huff, he slumped against the window. Inwardly he remembered Katarin chastising him gently as a child, informing him that he became a little girl when sick or injured. How true, he thought bitterly.
"You know, normally I am ze one handing out reprimands and disqualifiers for confident phrases. Around you, my job is already taken care of. Tell me, Orah, if you constantly berate yourself, zen what will I do? Sit about and watch ze show?" Alois tried to smile, to give some indication that he teased, but his efforts met with ill proof - he could not summon the energy to try. Even taking a drag felt like a nearly insurmountable task, yet either out of sheer will or trained muscle memory he managed it. Unlike Orah, the smoke met with no resistance on its way out.
"Worshipping perfection sounds like an exercise in self-annihilation, wouldn't you say? Ze Greeks seemed to understand - even zeir panseon was home to a multitude of flawed gods. Just humans wis' power..." No different from the senshi - all of them. No single senshi lacks a sphere, including our own. Maybe the Greeks were onto something. "You should be happy zat you're flawed. It gives a lot more freedom zan perfection. But, you're right about one sing - everyone lies. It's hardly any different zan saying hello." Focusing on such matters offered a reprieve from the nagging need to shoot up, though the more he tried to push those thoughts from mind, the harder they roiled about in his head.
Lying is more fruitful than the truth.
Stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray, Alois breathed an even sigh. Smoking never helped with the nausea, but it eased his nerves well enough. "I suspect zere's a lot of sings you haven't tried because it's frowned upon to do so. Wis' ze way you constantly correct yourself, it would not surprise me if you allowed ozzers ze same or greater control. Plainly speaking, you're a doormat - and it was evident to me when you agreed to zis situation. Knowing zat I would be volatile, disgusting, and partially dead for ze duration of detox, you still agreed to it. You can't say no, can you?
"Gif' me your hand. I'll proof' it to you." Alois outstretched his own, palm upward. "Trust me."
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Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2014 7:11 pm
Orah couldn't deny what he said, about secrets. It was far, far too true. The way she had lived, before, there had been no secrets in her life... now it felt like she lived half in hiding.
The mention of her self-effacing nature made the young woman wilt a little, casting a side-long look at Alois as he went on to say her flaws were more freeing than damning. Maybe that was true... but that didn't mean it wasn't the goal of all humanity to surmount their flaws, move past them. Wasn't that the whole point to everything? To strive to be better?
Brown eyes watched as he put out his cigarette and she wondered if the smoking helped him, hoped it did. She couldn't see why smoking was so appealing to people, but figured perhaps its something that came with time. This would hopefully be the only cigarette she ever did, so Orah figured she'd never really understand... wait...
"Doormat?" The young woman said, giving him an incredulous look. "I'm not a doormat! There's... there's nothing wrong with wanting to help people. I wanted to help you, because I care about your well-being, not because I can't say no. If I don't want to do something, I don't! If I do something someone asked me to do, its because I wanted to!"
Instinctively, she pulled her hand to chest to protect it, curling her fingers into a fist between her breasts. She eyed the hand he held out to her, torn about what to do. It was... a little embarrassing that when he asked for her hand, she had almost automatically given it to him, despite the mild insult he had just given her. She had this nagging feeling if she gave him her hand, he was going to do something to hurt her, as illogical as that was. It made her want to refuse his request, thus proving she wasn't what he claimed... Part of her wanted to reach for him for the same reason, to let him do whatever he was trying to do and thus proving that, again, she wasn't the doormat he seemed to think she was.
But, in the end, after some thought... she tentatively laid her slender brown hand in his pale one. It was not lost on her that this was a rare moment, to touch him skin to skin, and even rarer that he had asked for it himself. It was, ultimately, a big reason why she allowed the touch now.
"For the record." She said softly, her attitude almost sulky. "Its not a good idea to insult someone and then say you'll prove it... it makes them not want to cooperate."
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2014 11:11 pm
"I'll proof' it," he reaffirmed despite her outburst. Surely enough, her hand met his, weight light in his palm. He never closed his fingers over hers, or otherwise restricted her movement. Her hand hardly felt warm compared to his, though he suspected that had much to do with his inability to regulate his own body temperature right now. Part of him demanded that he retract his palm instinctually, recolt at her touch and shift gaze to the window, point already proven in the simple act of capitulation, no torment necessary. But his mind always demanded that he take things too far, didn't it? Would she understand him fully if he left his gestures to half-measures?
"You're right, you know." With his free hand, he searched his pocket. "Most people would tell me to go ******** myself. Unless... zey were a doormat." Shooting her an impish look, Alois cocked an eyebrow. Finally he produced his lighter once again, and dexterously popped the cap with his thumb. After rolling the pad along the flint, the flame clicked to life not far from its tab. finally he drew the flame beneath her wrist, allowing it to dance just a hair beneath her skin - in moments, she would surely suffer the burn.
"Zere are just a few sings zat I excel at, Orah. One of zem is wagering my livelihood against someone else's actions - betting my ability to eat against your constant acquiescence. Ze second is abusing doormats - I am unconscionably good at pushing ze envelope of zeir need to say yes to my every whim. It's easy, it's fun, and I get a lot out of it. But what of zem, you ask? Let's just say zey finally learn to say no.
"You will too, Orah, even if you sport ze scars of capitulation along your wrist. Skin still cooks even when ze flames are drawn away, you know."
Chasing her away with fire... Maybe it wasn't any different from recoiling initially. In this manner, he maintained his ground and she shied away instinctually, leaving him the victor in good standing. Simple tussles of territory, born from small insults toward her character - her disposition. Her mother the boisterous one, yet she the doormat... How peculiar. Perhaps not all her secrets came of the dirtied variant - Orah may simply hide surprises devoid of such societal dregs, a snapshot of a life far beyond his own.
For a moment he caught himself comparing the likeness between his own personality and his father's. What a terrible time to draw thought to the dead...
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