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 Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 11:07 am
✖ Solo: Downward Spiral II ✖
Cesc took Azucar’s number. The detective promised him to go into the station and reread Gertrude Maplethorpe and Jamie’s testimonies. He would give them a call and ask them to come back in. They would be in touch, he said.
The key, he stressed, was for Cesc not to let his imagination run wild with him.
Cesc nodded and promised and tried to feel soothed. But by the end he was holding his umbrella with both hands to try to mask his shaking, and he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was just gulping or breathing or really how to do either. His vision swam. There didn’t seem to be enough air outdoors to fill his lungs.
He watched Azucar and Perp go down the empty sidewalk and he turned. Go back to the bakery, or to Granny Maplethorpe’s? How was he going to explain to Vivi why he hadn’t gone to talk to --
Cesc paused.
Shepard. Shepard was there.
Cesc floated down the lane as quickly as his wingless body would allow him. Shepard.
- - - - -
Shepard sat at Granny Maplethorpe’s tea table and stifled a yawn. Beside him, Jamie poured him a steaming cup of tea and took her seat.
“I’m really sorry to hear about you and Vivi,” said Jamie. She served herself a tea cake and prodded it listlessly with her fork. She pressed her hands against her forehead and temples. “This is all… so out of hand. I’m so tired of this.”
Shepard snorted into his tea. “It’s been a ********.”
Jamie leaned back in her chair. She shook her head. “It’s been a nightmare. Poor Cerise… poor you. It shouldn’t have gone this way. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
She leaned forward, touching Shepard’s arm.
“We were just supposed to be in the stupid circus, all of us, being happy. All of us. That’s how it was supposed to go.”
Shepard shrugged. “Honestly, Jamie… I’m trying not to think of the circus that much anymore.”
Jamie’s face fell. “Vivi should have loved you. Back then, back when you came in. It all would’ve worked out.”
Setting down his cup, Shepard looked down at Jamie’s hand on his forearm, her light fingers against his tan. His voice was distant. “Things don’t really work that way. She’s allowed to love whomever she wants.”
“You are special to her,” Jamie murmured. “I don’t believe for a second you’re not.”
Shepard’s smile was wry. “This isn’t really helping.”
“I know,” sighed Jamie. “I just wanted you to know that. I’m sorry she had to love Clive. I’m sorry she values you so highly. Because I really love you, Shepard. You’re a great friend.”
Shepard’s brows came together.
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Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 9:04 pm
✖ Solo: Nadir ✖
The umbrella was making too much drag, and the going was slow enough as it was. Cesc closed it and used it as a cane, an oar, pushing himself forward with it against the drizzle. His heart was wild in his chest as he saw Granny Maplethorpe’s house, Shepard’s truck parked outside, Jamie’s car in the driveway.
Maybe he was being an idiot. He was going to come in and they’d all be around the table together and everything would be fine.
He was letting it happen again. His imagination was out of control.
No, his brain gasped. This is murder, not a ******** game.
He set his umbrella down beside Shepard’s as he approached. He opened the screen door and called inside.
“Hello? Shep?” He fought to keep his voice level.
“Rhede?” Jamie’s surprised voice answered him. She came out into the parlor, her mouth open, her brows up. Her cheeks were flushed. “Rhede! What are you doing here? Holy – your wings!”
“No – don’t freak out. It’s fine. I was just, ah, coming to talk to Shepard…” Cesc explained, his throat tight. He eyed Jamie for a moment longer than usual, taking in her high color, the stray hairs that had come undone from her ponytail. “But I actually wanted to, ah, chat with you and Granny, too, if that’s okay.”
Jamie waved a hand. Her surprise was fading, and her breath was coming in softer now. “Oh, yeah, of course. Sure.” She paused. “Are you … are you sure you want to do it now? Maybe later would be better.”
Cesc frowned. “I’d really prefer now.”
Jamie took in a breath and swallowed. She smiled at the frei, but there was something alarmed in the expression. Was it him? He had come in uninvited and wingless, and he was acting somewhat grave, wasn’t he?
Don’t let your imagination run away with you, he told himself.
“Come in, sit down,” said Jamie. “Can I get you some tea? You’re soaked, did your umbrella break? Don’t drip! Granny’ll kill you.”
Cesc floated down to the nearest chair. Jamie came forward with a tea towel, holding it out to him. He took it, and began to press it to his face, his hair. Breathe, he told himself.
“Where are Granny and Shep?” he asked into the towel.
“Just popped out a second,” said Jamie, heading back into the kitchen. She gestured to the back of the house, calling back at him as she did so. “Getting him situated in the guest room. I think Granny’s telling him all the house rules – dinner at four, bed at nine. That kind of a thing.”
Cesc smiled despite himself. He sank down into the armchair. “Sounds about right.”
Jamie returned with a cup of tea, setting it on the table beside him. “Here, drink it right up. You look chilled to the bone.”
Cesc lifted the teacup. He breathed in the steam. He wasn’t sure what to say, where to start. “I am, yeah.” He set the cup back down untasted. Jamie’s eyes followed his hands. “Did you see Shepard? Does he look okay?”
Jamie nodded. “I think he’ll be okay, yeah. Are you sure you won’t have some tea? You look so cold.”
The stag let out a breath. “Good. I was really worried for him. – and I’m fine, really. Are you alright?”
Jamie stayed standing. She nodded, smoothing her ponytail, shifting her weight, looking down at the stag. She chewed on her bottom lip indecisively, her fingers drumming her thighs. Her color slowly began to fade from pink to white. Suddenly, her eyes began to shine.
“Oh, Rhede. You really didn’t have to come for Shepard. You would worry a lot, don’t you? Shep and Vivi --- and you worry about everyone, really, don’t you? I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. Rhede. You’ve been really helpful. You have. I just want you to know that.”
“Thank you.” Cesc shook his head. He rose, starting toward the back of the house. “But not as helpful as I wanted to be.”
“No,” insisted Jamie. “You really have.”
She did not follow him as he began to float. She hung back, and took his teacup, and went back into the kitchen.
As he went, the hair on the back of Cesc’s neck stood. His ears flicked.
There were no voices in the house. No round British tones, no slow Shepard drawl. No shuffle of feet. He halted, halfway through the hall, and double-backed toward the kitchen.
His voice was slow. “Jamie?”
There was no answer.
His pace quickened, as much as it could. His voice rose. “Shepard? Granny?”
There was a hushed sound in the kitchen. Cesc felt his shoulders tense. His skin felt clammy, and sweat began to form on his forehead.
He entered the kitchen.
Jamie sat at the kitchen table. Her face was half in a towel, where she sobbed without restraint, hiccupping, her tears flowing freely down her face.
Shepard was on the floor.
Cesc let out a strangled cry, darting to him.
“DON’T!” Jamie rose like she’d been bitten, her arm out. Cesc sprang away from her, whirling at her, his heartbeat hard in his ears, his hands shaking, his eyes wide.
Gun. She had a gun. There was a gun.
“Don’t go to him. Don’t help him!”
“What did you do to him?” Cesc gasped. His hands were braced out. “Jamie! What did you – Where’s Granny?”
“Rhede. I didn’t want this. I don’t want him to die. Do you think I’d want Shepard to die?” Jamie’s eyes were wild. “I don’t want this either. Why did you come here?”
“You have to call 911,” Cesc pleaded. His eyes flicked down. Shepard’s breath was shallow and quick, his skin white and beaded with sweat. Rhedefre’s voice began to pinch toward hysteria as his eyes flicked, up and down. “Jamie. Jamie, give me the gun. Let me call for help. Jamie.”
“No. Rhede. It’s not in my control anymore,” Jamie croaked. “This is the only way. It’s the only way she sees – sees how badly it hurts. It’s the only way. I’m so sorry.”
“What—“ managed Cesc. “What the <********> are you talking about?!”
Below, Shepard groaned. He rolled on his side, gagging, half-conscious.
“She was supposed to fall in love with Shepard!” cried Jamie. “She had everyone – everyone – I loved her, too. Oh, no. Ohmygod, I did. I loved her.”
“Are you talking about VIVI?” Cesc yelled. “Jamie, put the ******** gun down! Vivi didn’t kill anyone!”
“I thought it was Cerise,” Jamie wailed. “Vivi knew -- Vivi knew Clive was mine, he was mine, the stupid ********, the idiot, he was MINE. She was supposed to have Shepard. How could she? How could she? It was supposed to be over. I thought – I thought he – I thought it was Cerise! When I think about how long – Rhede, I stayed with Vivi so long, cried with her for so long – and she kept it from me. She hid it from me. She made me – she made me take Cerise!”
Cesc stared, dumbfounded. His ears twitched and his brain gridlocked with screaming thought. How could he get out? How could he get Shepard out? “Jamie, you have to stop. Listen to me.”
“I’m so sorry, Rhede,” Jamie repeated. Her hand shook. She raised the gun. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve it. But she lied to me. She lied to me for five years. I’m so sorry.”
Cesc let out an unintelligible cry. He darted forward, his hand out.
All he heard was a blasting shot. An explosion of pain blasted through the top of his head, white-hot. He screamed, louder than he thought possible, his voice filling the room. His head thudded against the floor, and instantly he felt the warmth of blood blooming over the side of his head.
Jamie stepped over him. She took him by his shirt and she pulled him away – away from Shepard’s writhing body, his fast-paling face. He scrambled against the floor, but he had no power – no wings, no energy, nothing. His right eye was shut from the blood. He could see the remains of one of his antlers on the floor, like he’d seen the pink dust of his wing just past dawn that morning.
He was losing. He was losing everywhere.
Jamie threw him by his collar with both hands into the pantry.
He tried to struggle, to get up. All he saw was the tears on Jamie's face as she shut the door.
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Posted: Sun Aug 31, 2014 12:28 pm
✖ PRP: The Call ✖
Jamie put a chair under the door.
Poor Rhede. He didn’t deserve it. Shepard, Granny – they didn’t deserve it. Why did Vivi have to surround herself with people like them? They’d all been taken in. They’d all loved her, as she loved her.
Jamie opened the house door. She fished out her keys and she got in her car and she sat for a moment and allowed herself to cry. To feel it. The hopeless emptiness of it.
Vivi. Her closest friend.
Jamie had loved Clive. She knew, inside, that they all loved him, really – who didn’t? She hadn’t minded the flirtations. The flings. They all had them. They all needed them. But Clive, she and Clive had a connection unlike the rest of them. He always let his eyes fall on her first. Always let her sit closest to him. Always spoke to her with gentleness and fondness and love.
She confided in Vivi. Let her know her hopes.
And then one day Clive was no longer interested in her. He told her that he meant to marry. He’d smiled.
I know you’ll be happy for us, he said. He showed her the ring. You won’t have a qualm with my pick.
Cerise.
She’d known it to be Cerise. Cerise, always trying to climb in his bed, always snapping at what she knew she couldn’t have. At Clive, who was hers, and Shepard, who was Vivi’s. Stupid child. Stupid, ugly child. Shepard had been smart enough to stay away. But Clive, his too-wide heart…
Jamie shook her head. She’d been so stupid then. She thought it could be neat. Clive and Cerise – they would could be together. Let them! If they wanted each other, they could have each other for eternity. But Cerise had fled and without her it had been hell. Clive, alone in the ground. Clive! How could she have done it?
At least there had been Vivi to talk to. She’d hated the rest of them. Pushed them all away. They gave her nothing. But Vivi, Vivi – she had nearly been tricked the same way as she. Nearly lost her Shepard.
Jamie held back a sob.
All that time… all that time…
And then Cerise had come with that ring on her finger. How was she supposed to take it? Of course she’d assumed – of course –
Poor Shepard. Poor Shepard, poor Granny, poor Rhede. Poor her. All taken in. All deceived. All hurt.
Selfish, horrible Vivi. She would know what it meant to ache. To be hollowed out.
- - - - -
Cesc pulled himself up in darkness. His head felt split. He could hardly see, one eye closed. His head felt badly weighted, lopsided, without one antler. The pain radiated from the top of his skull to his collarbone.
Panic was the only thing in his lungs, in his blood. He rattled the door, pushing against it with all his lingering power. He yelled, hoarse, into the darkness. His ears could pick up sounds – gagging, moaning, getting slower and more quiet.
“Shepard!” Cesc roared, shoving his shoulder into the door. “Shepard!”
His breath was coming in fast, too fast. His head was spinning. He couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t let Shepard die. Couldn’t let Vivi be murdered. He cursed himself, over and over, in his head.
He made this happen. He told Jamie the truth. He told her! Sitting there in that foyer drinking tea… the ******** tea.
With a guttural cry, Cesc pounded against the door. He had to think. Think. He needed to get out. He needed to get to Vivi. To call an ambulance. To call Azucar. He had to. He had to. But he’d left help, Azucar, behind.
Words swirled in his brain. Memories leapt over each other, garbling together. The jungle, the eye. His wound then, pouring over his face as the blood did now. The horror he felt, that one hour, standing alone with his greatest fears.
Now he was up against them, alone. There was no flare to fire. No help to be had.
He lost.
He’d never see Vivi again. Shepard’s smile. His friends. Ethiriel’s softness, Reks’s laugh, Melisande’s blossoms, Zurine’s sweetness, Zul’s warmth…
… Zul…
He thought about the talk they’d had, that one day by the ocean.
But I mean this with all my heart, Cesc: if you ever need help, you need only call to me, and I will come to you.
The memory stung. His eyes hurt, but there were no more tears. Cesc was coming apart. He felt it. Sparks of light were seeping from his wound, from his back. His rune swelled with flickering color. There was not much time.
He rested against the door, his fists against it.
Zul was not here. He was miles away.
But with all light and hope fading, he found it within himself to ask.
“Zul,” he gasped. “Zul, help me. Help me.”
Shopping with Alex wasn't the most exciting thing, but it filled his time when Rivener was busy and Melisande was working. He felt like he wasn't getting out to see her enough, especially since the jungle. They'd drifted apart since then, Alex withdrawing into herself and the demon busy with his two and building a home with them. He knew she was there, though, and they'd figure things out in time.
"You okay?"
Zul glanced over to the woman, still holding a carton of orange juice she'd asked him to get. "Hm?"
The Italian's lips pressed into a thin line. "You've been staring off into space holding the carton, like you just shut down."
"Ah." The Sigel smiled in his easy manner, putting it in the basket on her arm. "Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."
A frown returned his words. "I see." And she let it go. She didn't ask, she didn't pry - which was relatively unususal of her, Zul noted - and headed off down the dairy section.
He opened his mouth to
Zul.
say something but
Zul,
his voice didn't form
help me.
and his eyes began to bleed into black
Please.
and suddenly, his problems were small and far away
Help me.
and with a decisive snap in his chest, a chain within him he could not deny, Zul turned, spread his wings and took to the air. It was no small wonder he managed to avoid hitting signs and top shelf items in the grocery store as he zipped out, but he couldn't think of it, didn't care, only that he had been called and he had to answer. He had to get to it now, to the source, to...to Cesc. Cesc had called him. Cesc was in trouble--
The demon's black eyes narrowed as he circled out of the building and into the sky, making a sharp turn to gain altitude and plummet in the direction of The Call. Zul had no idea where he was going; he knew only that his heart felt like it was beating tight and fast and unnatural in his chest, an unusual sensation of cold flowing beneath the skin. The Call was strong and directed him more surely than anything he'd known in his life, like the invisible chain attached to the fibre of his being was pulling him steadily where he needed to be.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he entered the residential area, landing in front of a house that was in no way familiar except -- there was a vehicle, it tugged the feeling of knowing who it belonged to but The Call didn't care if he knew or not, far too all consuming. The Sigel opened the unlocked door with ease and immediately careened into the kitchen, dark eyes briefly taking in the form on the floor. It wasn't Cesc, so who it was didn't matter yet, though the antler and blood there mattered a whole hell of a lot. The demon turned in a half circle until he was orientated towards the pantry, the feeling of The Call clicking in place. The scent of blood and sick was heavy, Zul uttered an inhuman growl and seized the chair, heaving it into the next room and yanking open the pantry without question or warning.
The black eyed demon stared unblinkingly at the bloody stag, wanting to be angry about him being stuck in a pantry, wanting to rage at the metallic scent of blood and injury, wanting to be protective and fix whatever had taken the Frei's wings and made him leak the light he was made of...but he could do none of it. Zul stared at the one who had issued The Call, brows furrowing over his pitch black gaze, and simply rumbled, "Rhedefre?"
Cesc had collapsed onto the ground, gasping dry, angry sobs into the hollow of his heart. He felt the light breaking within him, his rune rearranging, the light trying to spill from him. He was all wrong. This was all wrong. He was determined but helpless as he was, and raging against the closed door did nothing but make him feel unbalanced, unsafe.
Shepard. He needed to help Shepard. And Vivi. And Gertrude.
But even if he got out, how? What was there for him? He could call 911, dispatch Azucar, find Granny and make sure she was well.
But Jamie could have gotten to Vivi by then.
Cesc let out another cry and smashed his shoulder against the door. Precious seconds were ticking by, for all of them. For all he knew, he could bleed to death there in the pantry, burst into shattered light pink and gold and be nothing, nothing. That would be all for the stag's redemption, for the dawn's brilliance.
His friends, so neglected in the past months -- he would never see them again. Never thank them for their help and light and kindness. Melisande, Zurine, Iorek, Luka, Zul…
No, no… he had to fight. Had to try! This could not be the way it ended for all of them. It couldn't be.
… a noise lifted the stag's head. Was he -- what was it? Someone was in the house. Azucar? Had he followed him? Or -- Jamie?
There was a crash, and the door opened, letting light fall on the broken figure of the stag.
They might have been equally surprised to see the state of one another. Cesc, blood matting his hair to the side of his face, his antler gone, gaped up at Zul in disbelief. The iris of that wounded side was broken, spilling molten gold through his sclera. But Zul -- Zul was HERE as Cesc had called him, surely some kind of blessed hallucination. Was it possible?
"Zul!" Cesc's mind pulled out of its gridlock. He burst, hands against the ground, out of the pantry and into the kitchen, grabbing onto his friend's arm with dizzying relief. Strength, hope, began again to build inside him. "Zul -- how -- you -- I have to -- you have to help me --"
His words were garbled as his spinning mind tried to right itself. His back was struggling, sparking more light, this time more steadily.
The moment of shock in regarding each other felt like it stretched too long, but thankfully Cesc broke it, lunging at the demon like a man starved and gripping his arm. The contact was made, and The Call's voracious need for completion was satisfied, making the demon's awareness of the situation crash down on him violently. The Sigel lifted his hand and cupped the good side of Cesc's face, looking at his eye - his horn, his lack of wings, and the rage he'd been denied before came spilling into him a thousand-fold. The demon growled his anxiety, trying to make sure nothing was life-threatening outside of the obvious and extremely worrisome head wound.
"I heard you call -- but that's not important right now." Zul had only a few seconds to gather his wits. He couldn't ask what happened, he couldn't ask who had done what or why he was in this situation - he wanted to, but he was not a fool and he could see now was not the time for a story. The stag hadn't returned his calls, but he figured the Raevan was just busy in the summer months, though he distantly remembered Alex mentioning something about not being able to get a hold of anyone in the bakery either. Was this something that could have been avoided? Was this Lucia all over again?
The Sigel shook his head and adjusted his hand on Cesc's jaw, trying to make sure the stag was looking at him and focused, even with his wounds. The Frei was his first concern; if the bearer of dawn could not function, he was going to get Alex over right away. But if he could... The situation involved Zul, yes, but he could already tell there was a war underway and he was just coming in as a reinforcement. It was not for him to try and take to the front lines.
"Cesc, my friend, tell me what you need of me. Be as succint as you need and I will figure out the rest." The black began to leak out of his gaze, retreating like shadowy veins and disappearing entirely, leaving only his concerned sky-blues to turn over the injured Frei's face.
Zul's touch against the side of Cesc's face was grounding. The rapid crash of thoughts in his head slowed, the anxiety retreating. This was not, was NOT, the stag roared at the emptiness, how things ended. He was not helpless, not hopeless.
The concern on Zul's face brought something else to the forefront. There was much to be done, and little time to do it in. He could stay, call Azucar as he'd planned, and send the fury of the demon after Jamie. Zul would protect Vivi with all he had. And he could stay until the ambulances arrived, until someone could stop the seeping of blood and light from himself --
No.
He was tired of being protected. Tired of being outside, of hoping the strength of others would save him. Zul gave him a lifeline, and he would take it. But this -- this --
The rest was HIS.
"I need you," Cesc marshaled his strength. His back ached -- but he knew the light that broke from it. It was not blood. That light was HIS, sure as dawn, his very own. Why could he not do with it what he pleased? His powers, all those that left him desolate between the trees that morning -- they were a part of him, bound to him. They would do as he commanded.
"I need you to tend to Shepard. Please. He's been poisoned -- and there should be an old woman in the house as well, please find her. Get them to the hospital." As he spoke, a loud crescendo of cracking and snapping, like dry twigs catching fire, sprung behind him. His jaw set, determined. "Call the police and send them to the bakery. Please -- can you do it?"
Wide, strong pink wings unfurled behind his back, splintering the light all around them. The Frei balled his hands into fists. His chest rose and fell, steady but fast. "Can you do it alone?"
Because I have to go, his expression supplied.
Oh, he was prepared to argue. He was prepared to try and do more, prepared to rock the boat and then some with Cesc's condition. Zul couldn't pretend to know what happened but he could see that this battle had worn on Cesc more than anything else he'd seen in most Frei's young lives. It made him think of the fel virus, himself in throes of agony and despair - and even then, being helped by Alex, he hadn't faced his condition bravely. He'd succumbed. But Cesc...
The stag was stronger than he knew.
Zul straightened a little at the sound of Shepard's name, eyes flicking to the side in memory of the body on the floor, but only briefly. Yes, he'd tend to Shepard, he'd do all he could, but Cesc needed his attention, and he gave it. Even without The Call, there was a latent leadership and determination in the Frei's voice that even a demon had to adhere to. Zul looked over his friend's shoulder as the strong, beautiful wings grew and spread, casting light and hope effortlessly. The Sigel wanted to argue, but he couldn't. He was looking in the face of a man, not a child, and one that knew what had to be done. It wasn't about pride. It wasn't even about safety anymore. It was more visceral and deep than that, and Zul recognized that, respected it. Cesc didn't need Zul to fight for him, he needed the demon to care and do what Cesc could not. He had truly called Zul for help.
"I gave you my word and you have it still," Zul finally said, bowing his head. "I will help Shepard and the lady, and call the police. Promise me -- promise me you will call when you are safe. And...promise you will call me if you're not." The demon gave the stag a meaningful look before pressing a chaste kiss to the Frei's bloody brow. It wasn't his blessing, persay, but it was his faith and trust. It was all he could do; the rest was out of his hands. "Be safe, Rhedefre. Do what you must."
"I promise, I will." Cesc's voice was strong. Light was swirling around the wound on his head, and he breathed it in and out like air. His eyes dipped toward Shepard's form and pain crossed his face, his eyebrows coming together.
He would be safe with Zul. He would be. He would.
His wings outstretched and flapped hard. There was no more time to think, to linger. He had faith in Zul, faith in himself. Gratitude, words, would have to come later.
Now -- now he had to save Vivi.
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Posted: Sun Aug 31, 2014 7:03 pm
 ✖ Break ✖
The rain was starting to pick up.
She walked to the front of Vermillion – Closed? – and then made her way to the side of it. Her heart ached.
Poor Clive. Poor Shepard, poor Granny, poor Rhede. She really loved them. She had. If only there had been another choice, another way. But Cerise, poor innocent Cerise – she deserved something, didn’t she? True and complete revenge to the one who’d sealed her fate. The one it should have been.
What a deplorable mistake. Jamie really did feel awful for it… all that misplaced rage, that misplaced hatred…
She really had wanted to save Rhedefre. He was so wholly unconnected. She really believed that Shepard and Granny would have been enough. Why did Rhedefre have to come? He should have stayed home.
Maybe it would be well. She would check on him afterward. See if he had lived through the shot, see if he would see sense. He was smart. Maybe it was just the panic talking that made him act out so horribly.
But then, Vivi did have a knack for making people love her. She, herself, had not been immune.
As she had hundreds of times before, Jamie knocked on the side door of Vermillion bakery. And as she had a hundred times before, Vivi twisted the lock and opened the door for her.
- - - - -
Cesc came out of the house like a shot. He had little time to get his bearings. He forced himself to believe that everything – absolutely everything – would be well in Zul’s hands. Part of his brain was incredulous, confused. Shepard, Granny. What had Jamie given them? And the black-eyed demon who’d opened the door, the one who came when called, had that been Zul?
But there would be time for that later.
His bigger wings made for greater speed, and having been without them for a full day made Rhedefre truly feel their quickness. For the first time, he could rise above trees, go over obstacles that might have delayed him. The rain was beginning to pour, washing blood down his face and over his clothes. His eye, now fully gold, picked up light better than his normal one. House lights, car lights, street lights – they all stood out against a grey background, all beckoning him forward.
Forward to Vivi.
- - - - - -
“I am afraid it is that you have come to the wrong place today if you needed cheering,” said Vivi, leaning against one of the kitchen counters. Her own face was as puffy as Jamie’s. “It is the greyness, I think, that makes us feel so bad.”
Jamie nodded. “I know. It makes it so much worse. All the rain.”
“Yes,” the Frenchwoman sighed. She lifted her shoulders. “I could not even open the bakery today.”
She turned toward the window, watching the rain come down. Her eyes were distant. She thought, for a moment, of the day that spring she’d gotten the email from Cerise. Cesc working behind her, the smell of sugar and cream in the air.
Vivi? She heard his voice, so low and soft, in her head.
“It’s a shame about the bakery,” said Jamie, consideringly. She sighed. Her hand went to her purse. “I… hadn’t thought about that.”
“Mm?” Vivi turned toward her.
“Do you remember,” Jamie continued, “when we were twenty? I really felt like you were all I had back then.”
Vivi’s face broke into a broad smile. “Yes, of course. We were the terrible ones, I think, no?”
Jamie shrugged. “I guess we were. You were.”
Vivi tilted her head. Her smile became slightly plastic. “Pardon?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Clive?” Jamie asked, composed. “Vivi. Why didn’t you tell me that ring was yours?”
A coldness went over Vivi’s expression. The smile crumbled into a line. Her head pulled back, her posture straight. Her jaw tightened.
“I had a right to know,” said Jamie. Tears were welling in her eyes. “How could you keep it from me – for five minutes, let alone five years?”
“Jamie,” Vivi said, her voice firm. “This is unprofitable talk. I returned him that ring in short order and he died. What good was it to talk about it, to anyone?”
“Bullshit,” Jamie spat. Her tears spilled over. “You didn’t tell me because you knew you stole him from me. You didn’t say anything because you knew he wasn’t yours to take!”
“Jamie? Oh, Jamie, get a hold of yourself!” Vivi’s nostrils flared as she exhaled. She lifted an exasperated hand and let it fall against her thigh. “Are you listening to yourself? You are arguing over a man who was murdered. He did not belong to anyone – not to me, not to you. He belonged to himself. He could make his own decisions, and they likely killed him!”
“No, you killed him!” Jamie cried. Her hand came out of her purse, the gun in her shaking hands. “Your stupid decision killed him! You! You always got whatever the ******** you wanted. It wasn't enough to have Shepard, or the audience, or ten thousand ******** men and women and lord knows what. You needed everything. -- and I -- I thought it was Cerise!”
Vivi gasped, pulling back against the counter. Her face went white – and then a furious red. Her hands closed into fists.
“What – the ******** – “ she managed, defiant. “—what are you talking about? It was you?!”
“No!” gasped Jamie. “It was you. It was your fault! There was no choice. You gave me no choice!”
There was little room for shock in Vivi’s expression. Her blood boiled in her veins, as rage lit her face and eyes. It all seemed so terribly wrong, like a dream, an alternate reality. But her brain bent and held the moment, her eyes focused on the gun. Jamie – sweet, caring Jamie, her friend Jamie, a murderer. A murderer of two people!
“No choice?!” Vivi’s voice came out of her unbidden, no filter to her words. Fury was knotting her stomach, filling her chest. “You killed a the most fickle man in the world because he didn’t care for you? Clive wanted me – and then one day he wouldn’t! Jamie! One day he would have wanted you and then be gone to the next – and you killed him and Cerise? You want to kill me? For that?!”
She took a step forward, toward the gun.
“Shut up! You shut the ******** up!” Jamie snarled. Tears were running down her face. “You WILL shut up. Don’t you ******** talk about Clive. Don’t you dare.”
“Who didn’t he sleep with, Jamie? Hah? You want to kill everyone you know?”
“He wanted to marry you!” Jamie yelled.
“For the goddamn fun of it, you crazy hussy! Put the ******** gun down, you idiot!” Vivi shouted back. Her shoulders were high, and her eyes were livid and wholly without fear.
“You think I won’t do this. You think I can’t shoot you, don’t you?” Jamie choked. The gun did not level, still trembling in her hands. Her eyes were wild. “You’re wrong. I haven’t yet because there’s more. There’s more you don’t know. You have to know!”
Vivi said nothing. Her hands were creeping slowly toward her knife block.
“I was at Granny’s today,” said Jamie. Her voice hitched in a sob. “I was at Granny’s today, and so was she, and Shepard, and Rhede.”
Vivi brows cleared. She stared at Jamie without comprehension.
“They’re all gone. You think I won’t do this? All of them.” Jamie managed out the words slowly, tripping over the syllables as she went. “Now you know. Now you know how it feels.”
Vivi gaped. Her legs began to shake.
- - - - -
Cesc descended on Vermillion bakery, wings splayed, his hair streaming across his face, light fluttering around him like wind. He saw Jamie’s car and angled his wings, coming down at the side door as quickly as the rain would let him. He didn’t wait. He threw open the side door and burst into the bakery kitchen like a shot.
“—VIVI!”
A voice shattered what had been a moment of stunned silence. Rhedefre saw Jamie, her hand outstretched, her face full of shock. Vivi’s face went from hopelessness to fury all at once at seeing him, her dark eyes opening wide as she took him in – wings and hair and blood and antler.
It was too much. It was the stag, the white stag, crumpled in the jungle in the rain.
Vivi let out a cry and grabbed her knife.
“NO!” Cesc dove between the women, his arm out. As he moved, there was more sound, harsher and sharper than thunder, snapping at the air. Shards of light snapped from their place to fly to him, leaving spots of darkness in their wake. He loomed at Jamie, his wings spread.
“RHEDEFRE!” Vivi shrieked. She was screaming behind him. She pawed at his arm, trying to escape the shelter of his wings, trying to feel the solid reality of him. “WHAT DID SHE DO?”
“Everything is fine,” Cesc said. His good iris locked onto Jamie. He was a sight, his right eye wholly gold, his skin lit as though he’d swallowed a star. The light was trying to break through him, trying to break him. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“No –“ Jamie stared at Cesc without comprehension, but her voice was coming out of her mouth without her, her lips moving as her eyes stayed locked on his face. “Tell her – Rhede – tell her – “
“Shut up,” hissed Cesc. The cracking noise intensified. The light was starting to swirl from his mouth like a shining vapor as he breathed. His antlers were gold and reaching. The pink of his wings, the color of dawn, was fast becoming the white light of morning. “Shut up and put that gun down right now.”
“Rhedefre – what happened –“ Vivi grabbed at his back, her hands on the back of his neck, his shoulders, desperate and frightened. “What’s happening to you? What -- Shepard – is Shepard –“
The light all around them was flickering, gathering around Cesc like some kind of magnet. Iridescent slivers were snapping from everywhere, covering him like stained glass armor, link by link. He could feel his own light, the light within him, trying to burst through him, trying to escape to the outside. Jamie’s hands shook worse, her face draining of color.
“I killed him!” Jamie shrieked.
“No,” said Cesc. His voice was strong but calm. He could feel it – the calmness returning as his own light poured from him. His gold in his right eye spilled, a molten metallic streak down his face. “You didn’t. You didn’t kill anyone else.” Light continued to gather around him, stabbing through the air, like panels of glass slotting one on the other, along his arms and swirling about his hands. “That’s not how this ends. You don’t kill anyone else. I will tell you how this ends.”
He lifted one hand. The light came with him, obedient. The growing shards leapt to Jamie’s gun, creeping around it like frost.
“You never hurt anyone again.”
Jamie closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. Vivi screamed.
But it was too late. There was the sound of a thousand thousand glass panes shattering at once, the boom of too-close thunder, and a white-hot blast of light. Cesc grit his teeth as something happened, something burst within him.
The gun clattered to the floor.
They were all left in a total and complete darkness.
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 10:44 am
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 10:58 am
On Happiness Vivi was not fond of hospitals.
But then, she could not really claim to know too many who were.
She returned to Shepard's room, where the Aussie slept. She watched the IV drip on his arm. She thought of Zul, of her immense gratitude toward the sigel for all he had done.
... sigel.
Cesc was no longer the little one, the youthful one. He was part of what she'd always considered the oldest Raevans. There were so many in between that had not grown! The little ice princess, Zurine, she was older -- Ethiriel, Anya, others. Had they pushed Rhedefre too hard? Expected too much of him? Left him alone, with too much responsibility, too early?
Vivi was not good with physical distance. She went from her chair and into Shepard's hospital bed. She put her chin on his shoulder. He smelled sour, unwashed. It masked his usual, his normal scent, masculine and comforting, but she did not care. She wanted the warmth of his skin, to know he would be well. She tilted her head so far as to see his cracked lips.
Rhedefre had done his best. He always rose to whatever challenge was before him. Even if that challenge was five years of baggage from her and Shepard. To save them from an imbalanced, heinous b***h none of them had recognized before today.
It made her mind spin to think of it. Jamie. Years of friendship discarded for the love of one man! One man who was not worthy of living without love for her. What sort of logic was it? To punish all who did not follow a script? Vivi's brows came down. How dare she. How dare she threaten everything... everyone...
She banished the thought from her head. It was not worth thinking.
Jamie would get her comeuppance. She would never harm another, as Cesc had promised.
Shepard shifted. His eyelids fluttered but remained shut.
"I am not used to my happiness being dependent on others," said Vivi gently into the sleepy, uncomfortable darkness. She slid her hand up Shepard's arm, dipping her fingers into his palm and leaving them there. "But whether I am used to it or not, I see that it has happened without my consent."
Shepard grunted. His head lolled toward her. He murmured, but it was unintelligible.
"Silence, enfant," said Vivi. "It is high time we slept."
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 11:02 am
 In the Quiet of Night
[Cesc sends out a message to Melisande, whom he had neglected in the past few months, to apologize ] *
He let Vivi stay at the hospital that night. He left her with assurance -- he could stay at the bakery alone. He could manage the prep work, the opening, and whatever else. He told her, somewhat awkwardly, about Melisande.
She laughed.
It was good to see Vivi laugh.
Worth the embarrassment.
... almost.
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 11:20 am
Dignity There was too much to do, Cesc told himself.
Too much to prep. Too much to get ready. Too much to focus on for sleep. He had never had to so much to do. They had already missed a full day of business and work. There had been police, paramedics, in their kitchen. Pictures taken. Tape up.
But Azucar had been kind. He'd gotten it cleared. Jamie had tried to convince them of her righteousness, her blamelessness, and that had made things simpler.
Simpler for them.
It did not change the fact, for Cesc, for Vivi, for Shepard, or for Granny, that they had loved someone who was happy to discard them when rage shifted perception and circumstance. That they'd enjoyed years with the one who'd changed their lives completely once, and tried to end it for them all. It was a strange and new reality. It was an ending to a friendship that was clearly stated but no less foreign.
Just because he'd grown, Cesc thought, did not put a bow on everything. It did not make him magically understand all he'd went through. The distrust Jamie'd given him. The awkward insight to his own failings and naiveté Cerise's words had burrowed within him.
But he would figure it out. Growth had, at least, given him that confidence. He would figure it out. He wouldn't let it isolate him, humiliate him, bring him to his lowest point. That part was over.
He'd proven it, hadn't he? He'd kissed Melisande because he wanted to. He kissed her, angelic beauty that she was, his dear and close friend.
Cesc poured wet ingredients on dry and flipped on the mixer. He watched milk and butter and eggs and flour and yeast slowly shift into dough. He pressed his forearms against his burning cheeks.
He'd kissed her, like the teenage girl Jackie had kissed him in that very kitchen so long ago. And he'd been politely told of other circumstance.
Poor Melisande! She said she'd wanted advice, and he went and...
Cesc shook his head. He looked up, to the top stainless steel shelf, where he'd let her flower rest. At least he'd made it clear that he was not the greatest source of romantic advice for her. Although he could not imagine that so formidable a couple as Zul and Melisande would ever have problems. Both so warm, with wide and giving hearts. Both so good, such wonderful friends. They deserved that happiness together.
Rivener, he did not know so well. Their brief acquaintance had not left the best impression on the stag. Violently passionate, easily angered, hugely powerful and brash -- those were the qualities that Cesc garnered from the scorpion. But his judgment was based on two, three meetings. Zul and Melisande, they were certain to know more than he. And he could not mistrust their combined discernment.
He tried to picture them together, arms linked, bathed in the joy they deserved. Zul, volcanic power wrapped in a handsome visage and electric blue eyes; Rivener, all darkness and style and sly smiles; and Melisande...
Cesc turned off the mixer. He pulled out the dough and worked it against the counter. Once, twice, three times -- no more. He formed it into a ball, poured a drop of oil into the metal mixing bowl, and put the dough ball back inside. Then he covered it with cling wrap and a towel, and set it aside.
He was tired of his head.
And he had so much work to do.
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2014 11:42 am
Five a.m.
Looking to put any awkwardness aside, Cesc and Melisande prep the bakery for open. *
[ongoing]
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2014 11:44 am
Time Left It was the second day since he'd grown. The second day Gertrude and Shepard were in the hospital.
The second day he'd opened and closed the bakery himself.
Rhedefre hadn't slept more than five hours combined.
The chair in the hospital was uncomfortable, plastic, raspberry-red and smelled of disinfectant. He struggled to find a position where his wings could tuck under him and his body could rest. He slumped down, ribbon on the floor, the nape of his neck hitting the crest of the chair. His wings were crumpled beneath him. Shepard slept, slept through that day the way he had the day before. And Vivi slept beside him, arms threaded through his.
Cesc lolled his head toward them. He watched the rise and fall of their breathing. His neck hurt.
He could not find peace or solace to sleep.
Vivi had given hers to Shepard. Shepard's peace had allowed her rest. He was happy for them. For whatever medium they'd found. Whatever it was.
He rose from the chair and floated out the door. He smiled at the night nurse. Everything was dim but not truly dark, disorienting. The lights were blue and every motion was hushed, but there was still movement and work, regardless of time. It stirred Cesc's tired brain. Always work to be done.
He didn't have far to go. He let himself into Gertrude's room, slipping in quietly and shutting the door behind him.
She lay with her eyes closed, her hair disheveled against her pillow. For the first time in his life, Cesc realized how small the woman really was, how old. Her cheeks sagged into her, revealing hollows below her cheekbones. Her lips were thin and cracked. Her eyes were dark beneath the shadow of her brow. Her hands were folded over her chest, her wrist bones sharp extruding from soft, wrinkled skin. Her hair was so white and fine, each strand independent, like spider silk splayed on a cotton pillowcase. Her skin was as textured as the gauze covering her IV line. She was not as she always was, not fine, not proper.
Zul had found her in time, Cesc thought, but only just.
His chest tightened with the thought. He lowered himself into the chair beside her. It was the same chair, raspberry-red, lemon-fresh, all angles. And he was even less comfortable in this one. But this time he did not move, looking at Granny, his eyes quiet. It was not so long before he noticed that her breathing was not uniform or deep, or that her fingers fluttered intermittently over her gown.
Sleep had not found her, either.
"I'm glad you're well," he said, very softly. It seemed a strange thing to stay.
Her eyelids cracked, revealing blue. She sighed.
"I am," she said, her voice thin, "attempting to sleep, Rhedefre."
"I know," Cesc said. He interlaced his fingers and leaned back, breaking her gaze and looking at the ceiling. "But while you were awake, I thought I would just say it, all the same."
She made a sound that might have, under better circumstances, been a huff. "... oh, stop it. I cannot bear too much sentiment."
"Don't go into Shepard's room, then," said Cesc with a faint smile. He closed his eyes. "You may overdose."
"Refrain from being ridiculous," said the old woman. "There is nothing quite like remembering how completely unknown your time left is. Let Vivette love him. He might have died."
Cesc shook his head. "No -- I'm not opposed." He pulled himself back up to sitting, rubbing one heel into his eye. "I want them to be happy. More than anything." He let his hand fall, turning his gaze toward Granny Maplethorpe. "I want you to be happy, too."
Gertrude shook her head. She smoothed her gown with tiny, tired motions. "You are so terribly sentimental, child..."
Cesc broke into a smile. "I feel like I'm not so much 'child' anymore."
"Yes, I saw you added some inches," she murmured. Her fingers twitched and just lifted, as though she meant to wave her hand at him. "Very good work."
"Thank you." The stag did a little bow.
Gertrude said nothing more for a moment, her fingers curling into her blanket. "I am sorry," she said, "that you have been acquainted with so much ugliness."
Cesc looked up. His smile faded. "It's not --"
"--no. It IS a shame. I AM sorry for it. It is not deserved, Rhedefre." Granny Maplethorpe's voice became thick with emotion, and Cesc was suddenly still and upright in his chair, his fingers tight over the chair arm. Granny did not bother with emotion. She was the old guard, the doyenne of duty, the master of the 'stiff upper lip'. Like watching someone bleed but being unsure of the wound, Cesc did not know how to stop it from happening.
"That stupid child," choked Granny, rough and angry, her eyes welled with tears. "Jamie! That stupid, stupid child. I cannot believe this was what she wanted. I cannot believe it. To have chosen this life -- to have chosen jealousy and pettiness and to have thrown away her talents. Beautiful, sweet, intelligent -- talented -- and loved, Rhedefre, and loved. Stupid child. Stupid, stupid..."
"Granny," said Cesc, his voice soft but cracked. "We didn't know. We couldn't have known."
"Oh, all the same," said Granny dismissively, angrily, turning her face away from the stag, her eyes closing. Her eyelashes clumped, wet. There was a finality to the way she had spoken that forbade reply. She lay in a furious, impotent silence.
A minute passed while Cesc watched her with helpless eyes. But as the silence dragged his expression changed. Once, even so little as a week or so ago, he would have allowed the silence to reign. For Granny to grieve in quiet, while they pushed their pain into dark corners and let it fester.
He was done with that.
"It's not okay," Cesc spoke suddenly, his voice loud in the old woman's silence. "That it happened. What she did to us. What she chose for herself. That's not okay. But that I've seen unpleasantness, and tragedy, and everything -- no, I wouldn't have chosen it. Nobody would. And I'm sorry for it, too. But you don't have to carry that. That, that is okay." He leaned forward. "Are you listening, Granny? I'm letting you let that go. You don't have to protect me. Let me have a chance at it for once."
He was met with silence, but this time, Cesc said nothing. Gertrude kept her eyes closed, her chin tense. Her brow shook as it came together.
At last, Cesc leaned back in his chair, his shoulder slumped. He closed his eyes, his hands folded low on his stomach.
Granny murmured.
"You were given an old soul, Rhedefre," she breathed. "Promise me you never waste your talents."
He did not open his eyes. For the first time in two days, they felt heavy.
"I promise," he whispered.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 3:05 pm
Delayed Returns
Excited to share his news and check up on his friend, Cesc goes to visit Anya. *
Cesc left the house the next morning. He'd gotten a triple-take, a laugh, and a hug from Zeke when the man finally saw him, just an hour or so before he left. It was nice to see Zeke. It always was.
He folded his suit coat and cravat into the afghan's bag and undid the first button of his shirt as he floated homeward. He felt a little strange. Not bad -- but different. The feeling of good change, for once. He knew some things more clearly now. He knew that Anya was well. He knew that her home was filled with comfort and happiness. And he knew that she had given him a piece of that to take to his own home again.
And he knew that they were, without a doubt, friends.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 3:07 pm
Four and Twenty Blackbirds
Anita and Cruz come visit Shepard in the hospital *
Shepard slept, and for the first time in months, it felt restful.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 3:08 pm
Drunk It was not advised to drink alone.
Cesc didn't do well with alcohol. As a Frei, he barely touched the stuff -- sips of this or of that -- but mainly his job at bars was to talk and to guard purses when others strayed. He would watch the way Vivi held the stem of a martini glass, the way Shepard nursed a beer in his hands.
Rhedefre sat in the darkened bakery with a bottle of beer in his own.
Vivi and Shepard had gone to bed a half-hour ago. They were still parsing things, talking, trying to get peace and strength and sleep back. None of them said 'no' to each other for months now. They were all hobbling along, propped up against each other for strength. Everything was different, but different was slowly settling into being normal.
Vivi'd gotten back her laugh. Shepard had carved a new smile out of the wood his face had become for a month or so.
Even Azucar came by now and then to help out. Just to check up on them, to make sure everything was as it should be. As it could be, at least.
Cesc didn't know how to voice it. He was grateful for the attention, but the whole experience was like being stuck inside an infirmary, everyone with varying wounds of different severities, and nobody wanting to point too obviously at their own. Everyone hurt. Nobody got to be the special one, the coddled one. They were all trying their best and wobbling toward wellness.
But Cesc was angry. And he was tired.
And now he was in a darkened room with his hands over a beer and his eyes focused on nothing and his brain not quite on but not quite off, humming. His jaw was set and his shoulders were tight and he didn't know what to do about it.
He was angry but there wasn't an outlet. The bakery needed attention, like a massive clingy child. Vivi and Shepard needed an ear and lent one of their own, but anger felt like sandpaper on raw skin and Cesc couldn't -- couldn't -- couldn't voice what he wanted to.
He sighed and leaned his head forward and pressed the cool bottle against his cheek. I should go to my friends, he thought. I should talk to someone.
Who? Melisande? Zul? Hadn't he made a mess there? He didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want to have to talk through that, to admit his own shortcomings and the stupid hopes that had gotten him there and the embarrassment of having wanted -- and yes, yes, that made him angry, too. There was too much on his plate and there was no room for this goddamn horrible slice of humble pie he could just choke down later.
He turned the bottle around in his fingertips. His hands were so much bigger than they were before. He had so much more strength, so much more muscle and brawn and heft. It still took some getting used to. He would wait in the bakery and now and then his mind tricked him into thinking women were looking when they thought he couldn't see.
Who else? Luka? He hadn't seen Luka in so long. Where was his fel brother? What was he up to? Iorek? Iorek had his own issues. Anya? They had just become friends, just gotten closer. She was hoping for brightness and security after her long time in the dark. He had burdened Basil and Cruz and Anita and Ethiriel enough.
Zurine?
No. His brain was quiet and firm. Not Zurine.
And who wanted to listen to anger? Who wanted to hear a stag seethe and rage and hiss about how dare someone he knew since birth betray him and his family to such an extent, how dare a now-gone woman poison his brain with so much insecurity and upset? How could they go to face their fates and leave him holding so much mistrust and so much anger and so much -- so much -- so much mess --
Cesc let out a long breath. He put both his hands over his eyes. He detailed things he needed in his head.
He needed to sleep. He needed to open the bakery in the morning. He needed to prep things and decorate things and shift his focus away from the roiling sea of bitterness that was mounting in him.
He wanted someone to be there. Imagined a hand in his hair. A kiss at his temple. Imagined being the coddled one, the only one wounded.
It's okay, sweet man, he thought of a voice saying. It's going to be okay, you'll see, you'll see. You've done so well. You've done so well.
His brain continued to whine. That's what alcohol did. It let his brain whine, unimpeded.
Why hadn't they wanted him? Zurine, Melisande.
No -- that wasn't fair. Melisande was for Zul. For Rivener. Hadn't he already accepted their suitability? He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. But she hadn't rebuffed him completely. She kissed him. He remembered that. Kissing her had thrilled him, taken him out of his head -- but not so much that he could not remember that. She kissed him. She did not freeze from shock or push away.
Why had she kissed him? It left a mark on him. It tugged his ear and recalled itself to him now and then, and he would have to push it away in terrible confusion and reaffirm what he knew -- what she said.
Zurine had wanted him, hadn't she? She had. She had. She had until the weather worsened, and then she'd disappeared like her snow in springtime. And his mind, angry at being ignored and rejected, had supplied the words fair weather. When she reached out for him again, he had nothing. For her. For himself. For anyone else.
Why wasn't it simple? That angered him, too, and disgusted him with how angry it made him. Why wasn't it simple?
He wanted to be wanted.
What the hell do you know, anyway? Cerise said.
That much. He knew that much. He wanted to feel wanted. His heart ached and raged and felt like a petulant child, but it gave him that much.
Cesc put the beer bottle down. He sighed, ruffled his hair, and stood.
It was not advised to drink alone.
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Posted: Thu Nov 20, 2014 9:36 am
Kiss Day Bonanza
Cesc attends Cruz's birthday party *
He felt a little sick, if he was honest.
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Posted: Thu Nov 20, 2014 10:35 am
Kiss Day Bonanza: Remix
Cesc and Zurine have a discussion*
Cesc opened the door and let himself through, shutting it with a quiet click behind him. He didn't move forward, his wings folded against his back, his hands behind him, wrist in palm.
"You okay?"
It was a funny question. He could see that she wasn't, could see that she was weeping, but an angry, vicious part of him -- a part of him he'd never really had before Cerise, or before Jamie -- was lit from the indignity of having to ask HER if she was well. She'd made the decision to leave HIM, wasn't that the truth?
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face was hard, his jaw strong, the muscles tense in his neck and shoulders. It surprised him, how angry he looked, and he deflated, putting his hands on his head and letting out a long breath.
He amended his question.
"Do you want to talk about this?"
Zurine's throat worked, her eyes closed, and she wiped at her face again. She was chilling the room, and she knew it, and she tried to modulate her emotions downward. Was she okay? Did she want to talk about this? Not really. No, to both questions. Especially when that beloved voice, gone lower, said it in that tone. She finally managed to compose herself after a moment, looking up at him with a broken little smile.
"I think... I think we should talk about it," she said, and her voice was rough with tears. "I think we need to."
Cesc nodded. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and then let go. With a sigh, he floated to the side of the tub and parked himself there, his broad shoulders slouching.
He scratched his cheek. His voice was low, rumbling. "I don't know where to start. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry I -- went through with that kiss. I shouldn't have thought it could be passed off as nothing."
He struggled with the next words, forcing them out without attaching too much blame or anger.
"--I thought -- maybe it was. I don't -- know what anything is to you."
She looked up at him, and not for the first time that night she realized how much he had grown. Suddenly she felt even smaller beside him, more foolish than before. Her tongue felt dry, and she exhaled.
"Nothing is... unimportant when it comes to you," Zuri said, turning her gaze to the crumpled tissue in her hands. "I know I... I know I messed up, earlier this year." There was quiet, miserable certainty in her tone. "I really, really messed up badly. And now I don't know where to start making it better..."
Rhedefre's eyes went up as she spoke. A cloud passed over his face, the muscles in his jaw working. He put his hands on the lip of the bathtub, steadying himself. She'd 'messed up.' Informative.
He took a slow breath through his nose and nodded, looking at the ground. He couldn't be cruel to her, although there was a little part of him that wanted to be, to inform her that she had messed up and there was no righting it. But he knew that to be unfair. She was suffering plenty, he could see.
He swallowed the bitterness in his voice.
"What happened?" Cesc asked. He rubbed his upper arm with one hand. "Was it -- something I did?"
Zuri's gaze immediately snapped up to him, her cheeks pale and her eyes very dark. "N-no! No, you -- you were perfect," she said, smiling. Fresh tears tracked her cheeks. "I... just... the weather started to get warmer, and... I felt worse and worse," she said softly, wiping her face impatiently. "And not just... my body, but... I got so sad and I felt so guilty that I couldn't do what I wanted to do with you..."
She squeezed the tissue in her hands tight. "It's so stupid. I tried to call you so many times to explain, but... eventually I got so... afraid, that I thought maybe you were happier without me..." Her shoulders scrunched up in self-protection. "I didn't leave the house all summer. This is the first time I've seen anyone but Phiel or Lab staff since... since I saw you last. I guess... I got sick."
There was no real words for what Cesc felt as he watched the poor owl speak. It was part relief and part horror and part fury and part sympathy, all roiling together in his veins and through his heart. She was depressed. Depressed like he'd been after the jungle -- only in his case, he'd had her. Her and Vivi and Shepard, who pulled him out of the muck and forced him to interact with the world.
Where had Phiel been? Where had HE been?
-- right. Dealing with the worst summer of his life.
But what was that? They'd locked each other out, in that case. She'd gone first, and he was furious with her for it, but his fury had been sidelined and he was not allowed to give chase.
"Zurine," he said, his voice exasperated and thin. He put the heels of his hands into his eyes and then sank them into his hair, pulling his curls back.
"Zurine, you got depressed? You got depressed and thought I was better off without you and decided not to tell me and -- and that's why we broke up?"
He swallowed hard, his brows furrowing. He wanted to yell.
"What-- what were you doing all those days? Why didn't Phiel come and get me? Why didn't someone -- trust that -- or know that you can't just DO that to yourself, you can't just --" He was being angry and inward-focusing. Selfish. He knew better. He knew better! He knew self-torture and sticky, murky depression, and he knew better than to react like this. His feathers behind him began to snap like twigs in a fire, and the sound pulled him away.
He dropped his hands. He reached one out, the edge of his fingers on hers. He lowered his voice and his head and he found her gaze.
"Are you any better now…?" Cesc's voice became gentle. "Did you find some help?"
She only listened for a long few moments, feeling as if she had ruined everything, as if she had taken something beautiful and destroyed it. His anger was well-deserved -- but when she felt those fingertips on her skin, she almost flinched. She was frigid to the touch, frost from her tears crisp on her hands, but when his voice gentled and that hand touched hers, she let herself draw a breath.
"I'm alive," she said, shakily, and she managed a fragile little smile. "I... things got so bad that.. I felt like it might be better if I didn't exist at all, and I tried to call you -- actually dialed the phone -- and you didn't answer, and..." Another deep, trembling breath rushed through her. "And I got so scared and sad and finally I... thought I might really disappear. And then I didn't. It... it got better, a little. And Phiel made me see Zeke, and... so. I'm here."
Guilt washed through Cesc. Had she called him? He'd ignored his phone wholesale in the summer. Weeks would go by without him checking it, while he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and wondered about his family and their pasts. About murder.
Well, he had answers now, answers to that and answers to this.
Cesc squeezed her cold fingers gently in his. His eyes were very clear and very earnest. "I'm sorry I failed you," he said. "You didn't deserve any of that. I was… really angry. I thought you -- were just done."
He looked older. Older than when she had last seen him. Stubble and harder lines made his face, baby fat slimmed from his cheeks. He was bigger and broader and his hands were, too, curled around her slender fingers as they were. "I thought you were just done - with me."
"You... you didn't fail me," Zurine said softly, and she looked up at him, letting herself really see him, really take in those stronger, broader lines, the new strength and sleekness, the way her hand felt very small in his. "And... and I was never, ever... done with you." She managed a smile. It was small and watery, but honest. "I never stopped thinking about you... and I hope that... that I didn't hurt you in a way that I can't make right."
Carefully, she squeezed his fingers, and bit her lip a little, swallowing softly, as if to ask him a question that she couldn't quite put into words.
Cesc looked down at her fingers and back up at her. He wasn't certain what to say. He wanted her to be better -- wanted her as vibrant and as lively as he'd last seen her. He wanted it for her -- and also for him, in a selfish way, so that he could be a little angry with her, so that he could work through everything instead of realizing that it wasn't a reasonable way to act and react. She needed, and deserved, softness and gentleness and calmness so she could blossom again. A good and quiet gardner.
And Rhedefre was tired. He'd messed up too much recently, too often. In the past year he'd struggled through his own depression and failings, nearly gotten himself and his family killed, had to wake up every morning with a deep fury against Jamie, against Cerise, against what they'd taught him about the ugliness of human nature. He'd tried to give his heart to Melisande and been rebuffed, but he couldn't be mad -- there it was again, couldn't be mad -- because he loved Zul above himself, and because he did genuinely want for them to be happy.
Just like he wanted Zurine to be happy.
He stroked his thumb over her chilly hand.
"We'll be alright, you and I," he said.
She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and her eyes closed. There were no tears this time, and she bit her lip. A faint smile curved her lip, and she lifted their hands slowly, carefully, until she could press her forehead against the back of his hand. The gem between her brows was a shade colder than her skin, and the roses she had pinned in her hair were soft pink. She held there for a moment, without words, shivering a little. Her wings slowly relaxed.
"I know that it's... not alright now," Zurine said after a moment. Her temperature was easing more toward normal, now; cool, but not frozen with panic and sorrow. "I know that... and I know I missed a lot. More than a lot... you've grown so much..." She lifted her head so that she could look at him again, as if she could memorize the new curves and angles of him. "All I'm asking is... is for the chance to be your friend again. I-I..." She swallowed hard, and then tilted her head as she looked up at him.
"I missed you."
Cesc kept still as she took his hand, watched her in silence as she kept them close. This was fine, he thought, this was a step in the right direction for both of them.
"Come here," he said quietly, opening his arms and pulling her into a hug. He pet the silk-soft threads of her hair and gently squeezed her in his arms.
"I missed you, too."
She more than willingly went into his arms, curling close against his chest and smiling. Her heart felt warm, and she nuzzled a little at him. It felt a little like coming home, something she'd missed all summer, more than she had thought. Her hand rested against his chest, her expression soft, unfocused with relief, though her eyes were still a little swollen from tears.
To Cesc, the embrace felt strange and foreign -- stranger even than the kiss had felt -- like he'd skipped a step somewhere. Like he'd cheated, or lied, or stolen something that wasn't his.
He pulled away after a moment, one hand still at the back of Zuri's hair.
"You ready to go back out?" He asked.
"I think so," she said after a moment, feeling considerably better now. She knew all wasn't well, yet, but she couldn't help the quiet welling hope that it might be soon, and that was good. "I suppose it'll feel a little less awkward now..."
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