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 Posted: Tue Aug 19, 2008 5:51 pm
Emyrus watched her until she was out of sight and sighed. This was easily going to be the most difficult session of pretending he didn't exist he'd ever been through. Not only would he have to teach Fidel the rules of these things, but there were three nobles after them. That wasn't to say he'd never hid from nobles, but never this many at once.
What made it worse was that there would be an easy solution to all of this if everyone just after him. One easy phone call to Meyra, and she would tell Ilaria that Evanescere was after his head. Since Ilaria's primary goal was to have Emyrus back alive, she would start doing what she did best: Making lives hell. She was lower on the ladder of nobility than Evanescere, but that didn't mean she couldn't stir up enough trouble to get him to stop the chase. That would leave just Vash, who had wanted to kill him for years. It was be life as usual.
Except Evanescere and Vash wanted to kill Fidel too.
Now he would have to make Alastier take them in for God knows how long. He would have to make sure Fidel was never out of his sight (not that he really minded that). Not to mention that their upcoming weeks/months of captivity, there would be plenty of time for Fidel to try to force his secrets out of him. In response to the thought, both he and his soul shuddered.
After all, he was sure that if she was persistent enough he'd give in eventually.
He smiled when she came back in, taking her hand and teleporting into Alastier's kitchen where his half brother was waiting for them. Sam, apparently, had left. Looking at the man's serious face, he remembered how close to identical they were. Frowning, he gritted his teeth together.
"Come on you two," Alastier sighed, leading them into the kitchen fireplace. He moved out the two logs that were in the hearth and kicked the back of it, which swung in on itself. He bent over, going through the hole. Without thinking, Emyrus took Fidel's bag and her hand and led her through the fireplace.
Behind the entrance, there was a hall about six feet tall, the walls and ceiling covered only in dry wall. The hall opened into a room about the size of an apartment kitchenette. Oddly enough, it even had a microwave, mini-fridge, and sink to top off the kitchen look. The door on the left opened into a bathroom, the one on the right into a bedroom. The bed, thankfully, was big enough for two people, saving Emyrus from the cold floor. There was a T.V. around the corner from what he remembered, and a phone on the nightstand.
"You know the way this works, Emyrus," Alastier said, clapping him on the shoulder and flashing a smile (the exact same smile Emyrus gave people) at Fidel before going back down the hall and out of the fire place. Once the door swung shut, Emyrus sighed and brought her bag into the bedroom and walked put it on the bed.
"Well, this is gonna be home for a while," he said, looking back at her.
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Posted: Wed Aug 20, 2008 7:53 pm
She had to admit, the similarities were a little dizzying, and it came to the point where all the girl could do was stare, and then blink, as this strange man flashed her that same stupid smile she'd recognize anywhere. She trailed into the bedroom after her counterpart and eyed her bag, and then him.
She needed explanations, that much she was sure of, and, like Emyrus had said, they were going to be here for a while--at least until one of their crazies finally found them.
Not that she was looking forward to that.
If they were lucky, it'd be Vash, and she would have a better chance of reasoning with him--well, unless, of course, Halycon was with him. Then she was pretty sure she was screwed. And the little brat was always with him.
Fidel folded her arms and sighed, then stared straight at her liar. "Well, as long as we're here..."
What if he lashed out at her for asking?
Oh, just get it over with, will you?
"Will you tell me what's going on?"
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Posted: Wed Aug 20, 2008 8:11 pm
"You knew she'd ask sooner or later."
Yeah, what's your point?
"Isn't it better to get it over with now?"
Hell no! I'd rather she never asked!
"Well, she asked, wise guy. Don't fight."
Don't you think you're being just a little outrageous with this? She doesn't need to know. Ever.
"It's not healthy for us to fight with her. 'Sides, she'll make life Hell for you if you don't tell her. Y'know what she'll call you?"
Yeah. A stupid noble.
"WRONG. A stupid, untrustworthy noble. You want to screw over the only chance you've got with her, hot shot?"
BUT!
"The only time I want to hear the word 'but' come out of your mind is if it's in relation to Fidel's a**. Now spill your guts like a good counterpart."
... You so owe me big for this.
"Yeah yeah."
The conversation with his soul was silent (duh), but he was fairly sure Fidel would have realized it was happening. After all, the disbelief, reluctance, frustration, and anger definitely played across his face with each response from the freakishly irritating orb in his chest.
"That depends what you want to know," he finally answered verbally. His soul jabbed him pointedly.
"Ouch, dammit," he muttered. "Okay, fine, fine, where do you want me to start?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 27, 2008 8:06 pm
After all the time she had devoted to the poking and prodding and overall knowledge of souls, it didn't seem to make the experience of watching a man argue with his own soul any less disturbing.
Or maybe amusing was the word.
Either way, she had (unfortunately) gone through said experience herself, and, while about 99 percent of the time her soul was right, most of the time it was absolutely frustrating to listen to it, let alone do what it asked her to do.
And so, watching her lime-eyed liar's face contort in the assortment of emotions she felt and knew all too well, Fidel waited patiently and bit back a smile. If he needed some time to fight with himself and decide, then...
She owed him that much at least, right? The girl was pretty damn sure she'd be lying facedown in a gutter somewhere in the Slums by now if it weren't for him.
For Emyrus.
She lifted her eyes when he finally replied. Looked at him for a moment. If she got the answers from him now, the personal ones that really made his eyes appear the haunted way that they were while everyone else saw them bright and good-humored, she could understand and help him, right? She promised herself she'd help, back in that freaky mansion house with those two noblewomen who must be related to her counterpart...
Breath in. Slowly out.
"That house," she answered. "Start there."
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Posted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 11:52 am
It was the teeny, tiniest flinch, but it felt like recoiling from being hit in the gut with a metal baseball bat. The reaction came from years of ignoring the subject and hitting anyone that brought it up (read: Alastier).
You owe me so ******** big for this, dammit, Emyrus thought, only staring at Fidel. He should've started answering a while ago, should've just gotten this all over with, but he'd locked the subject away and it was taking a while to find the key. He sighed, trying to erase the discomfort from his features. It was a trick that worked on anyone, or rather, anyone but Fidel.
"That was my mother's house. I grew up there," he said, proud when his voice came out only slightly shaky.
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 2:15 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 4:50 pm
There was something wrong about all of it--although that wasn't entirely surprising, was it? There was something wrong with everything in Pendant...you just had to look past the tightly shut doors in the Middle Section and the Nobles' Section alike, it didn't matter.
Fidel swallowed as her soul shuddered at the possibilities of what had happened at that house, all endless and mind numbingly horrific. Of course, that was just her jumping conclusions, right?
Ask him what happened there. her soul instructed her.
"Do you know what happened?" Fidel demanded.
It's important for him to tell you.
She sighed in exasperation, muttered an oath under her breath, and then asked, "What happened there, Emyrus?" The more appropriate question from someone who was completely clueless to the regular tragedies that buried themselves in this city would've asked something like, "Why did you leave?" or "Why didn't you tell me you were a noble?", but she wasn't a dumbass, thank you.
Or maybe she was, for not asking him about all of this a long time ago.
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 5:12 pm
I hate you. I hate you so ******** much, you know that?
"She'll hate you even more if you don't keep cooperating," his soul said (thought?), the words sounding almost gentle. Emyrus put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head back. He stared at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath and letting out a bigger sigh. She was being patient with him; he was thankful for that at least. Fidel could have decided to be an a*****e and b***h at him for taking so long to answer. Then again, she had plenty of experience dealing with nutcases who had hard stories to tell--it couldn't be too hard for her to deal with one more.
He looked back at her, forgetting the tricks. No more steeling his eyes, no more smiles he didn't mean. They didn't work on her in the first place, and he got the feeling he wouldn't last to the end of her questions if he tried to keep up the pretenses.
"My mom's a crazy b***h. She made me live in that broom cupboard most of the time. Some days she'd give me the leftovers she found in the fridge or from dinner, some days she wouldn't," he said, voice a little more on the hurt side than he would have preferred. The words came out in a rush, but instead of trying to be calm about it, he drilled her with a staring, watching the emotions play over her face. "When I wasn't in the cupboard, she had me clean the house. Whenever there was a guest, I had to be quiet. No one knew I was there; I was her secret.
"She had a nasty habit of strangling me or trying to drown me, too."
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Posted: Sat Dec 13, 2008 10:40 am
Alright, so the experience didn't help.
It was his voice that made her tremble more than anything else, really. That, and the obvious surrender the man was waving in front of her like a big white flag. No more lies, no more smiles that didn't reach his lime green eyes, no more guarded tone of voice. Everything seemed to come out in a quick rush of breath, lined with a pain that shocked her chest (or was that just her imagining things?) and rippled up her spine and blurred her eyes.
The simple way he phrased it all, the sheer bluntness--her fingers twitched at her sides. Studying souls and being around a bunch of crazies for her entire life did nothing to numb the way her chest tightened at his explanation of what happened in that godawful mansion.
"Had I known a few hours ago, with that b***h right there in front of me--"
There was a surprising, silent acquiescence from the orb in her chest this time.
And then came the realization, while staring back at him and his explanation weighing, heavy and oppressive, in the room. Putting multiple things together, like the reason he didn't mention he was a noble before (she would bash her head against a wall for giving him hell for it later), or why she never heard him utter a thing about his family, or...
Her eyes slid from his own, tracing his cheeks and lips, down to the angled jaw, and down to the scarred and bruised neck, exposed, she thought, for the first time ever since they had met. He looked like he had been jumped, which was understandable, considering he had gotten into that fight a few (days? hours? Everything felt jumbled together anymore), but looking at him at the moment, where she could get a better look at the dark outline of fingers against his neck, it all made sense. No wonder he made such a big fuss over taking his collared shirt off in the bathroom while she fought with him over it.
Bitching at him for everything that made sense now, she made a deeper mental note to ask him to punch her later on.
For now though, the girl's body moved by itself, until her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist and her cheek was pressed against his chest. She shut her eyes and pursed her lips while her forehead wrinkled and the overwhelming elation replaced the pain in her chest. More than any other moment she had spent with Vash, or even when the man's cold lips met her own briefly, she and her soul finally both agreed:
This was right.
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 1:11 pm
He sat, completely silent, and stared at her. There wasn't the sense of awkwardness that he expected. Given, he felt different without the web of lies, the blanket of deceit for him to hide behind. More than if he stripped down to bare skin right then, he felt naked. What surprised him wasn't the feeling of nakedness, but how close to comfortable he was with the feeling. It was like standing naked in front of your new spouse; there was a little embarrassment, a little awkwardness, but a little bit of excitement. The big unveiling to the person you trust the most. There's giddiness in anticipation, the fact that you'll never feel awkward around the person every again. There's also the shyness, the need to run and hide until they say something positive, or negative, or anything. All you need is some sort of response so you don't feel completely ridiculous standing naked before them.
All Emyrus wanted was one little response.
There was a moment that felt like centuries, one second where he couldn't see any emotion passing her face. Then came the pain, the shock, the understanding. He let out a deep breath, knowing that he would never feel so relieved the rest of his life. It didn't matter to him that she clearly didn't love him, or that they were only and would only be best friends. A friend was what he needed. Someone outside his ******** up family that knew what he would never put on any job resumee. Someone to give him a little pity, to feel bad for him and hate his mom even though they didn't know each other.
He watched as her eyes dropped to his neck, instinctively wanting to cover it. Like a man standing naked in front of his new wife, he refrained from covering himself with whatever was nearest. He expected her eyes to leave his face.
He didn't expect the hug. He didn't expect how right it felt to have her arms around his bruised waist, how perfect it felt with her cheek against his chest. All the years of dating suddenly felt ridiculous. It was like a puzzle; he'd been cramming two pieces together that weren't met for each other. Eventually the pieces figured it out and went to find another piece to join with. He was a puzzle piece and she was the one he was made to connect with.
Emyrus wrapped his arms around her, feeling (for the first time since he entered the dating scene) unsure. He didn't know how tight to hold her, whether or not it would be weird if he kissed the top of her head. Suddenly, the same thought that had gotten in his way hundreds of times when he was around her popped up again.
She would act this way for a friend.
Emyrus felt an almost embarrassed heat spread across his stomach. His thoughts had gotten out of control (again). He felt the sense of homecoming when he held her, but of course she wouldn't. When he was sure she did, when he almost needed her to feel the same way he did, it made most sense for him to be the only one with romance on his mind.
His luck sucked.
He sighed, letting the soothing soul-connection-calm wipe away his thoughts of their (his?) twisted, one-sided romance.
"Well, I guess that wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be," he said, voice both sincere and sarcastic. It really hadn't been as bad as he would have expected, if he had, you know, known what to expect. He never had a clue how she would react, only the two extremes she could have gone. She could have laughed at him, or she could have accepted his past with pity. What he'd gotten out of the confession was better than he had thought.
"What was that about you hating me?"
Oh, shut it, will you?
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