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 Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 8:11 am
There were tiny moments that Izy would never mention. They were the moments that he clung to. He would watch with her eyes as she went through her daily life, feel her lips as they pulled up or down--she had this little expression she made when she was seriously training or studying that always made him smile. It was so serious that it was entertaining. His Sydney was all business--most of the time.
He enjoyed the attention she gave him. She was constantly asking his opinion, uncertain of her own. Whether it was something extremely serious, such as her aim, or something utterly ridiculous, such as what underwear she was going to wear, she asked him. Like now, he thought as the girl held up two pairs of black panties. “I can’t decide,” she said with a frustrated sound. “Izy, which do you like better for today? Flowers or spiderweb? Honestly I should just wear the white, I know, but--“
Because she always posed in front of the mirror, frowning over how flat she was, and didn’t even notice how beautiful that shapely a** of hers was. She would turn this way and that, sighing over the little things and completely oblivious to the big ones. He liked that about his Sydney. He sat back in her mind and watched as she headed for the utilitarian mirror over the dresser and turned, clad only in her underwear, complaining once again about her tiny chest. It had taken her almost two weeks before she would look in the mirror with him watching, but now, when they were alone, he could hardly keep her away from it.
He REALLY liked that about his Sydney.
His Sydney had a voice like a siren. It was beautiful, ringing out clear, pitch perfect--and most siren like of all, it was enough to make a guy think about suicide. Or perhaps, he admitted as she showered, it was just her choice in songs that did the last one. It was a mixed bag, taking a shower. It would seem like a wonderful opportunity all around, really, she sang to him, was naked, and was soaping up happily and stretching in all sorts of fascinating ways--but the music, he thought, the music was horrible!
The whole situation had had him sitting up at night (figuratively, more like lounging around watching her rather random dreams) and contemplating how to change the “channel.” He’d taken to singing one of the songs he somewhat liked from her collection before she showered, and she instinctively started singing that when showering.
So when she started singing, that pure voice pouring over the words “Take me by the tongue and I'll know you, kiss me 'til you're drunk and I'll show you--“ he was a jackin’ happy boil! Until he realized that just about anyone could walk in and hear her. Now he would be the first to admit that his Sydney was not beautiful--at least, not according to the humans. (He’d seen the reaction over that Sasha ghoul, which, honestly, he didn’t quite understand. She seemed to make his Sydney happy, too, but there wasn’t any physical attraction there--well, he was getting off the subject.)
His Sydney was not the type to stand out or get fought over. She wasn’t unappealing, of course, he would never pick an ugly partner, but she wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, either. He liked that about his Sydney. The less attention she got from the other humans, the more attention she gave him. He WANTED that attention. No, want was a weak word. He NEEDED that attention.
But if the humans realized she could sing like she did, they would start paying attention to his Sydney. So it was simple, this silly ghoul and her lack of self confidence only needed to be told that she shouldn’t do it--and she wouldn’t.
Then she did.
He DIDN’T like that about his Sydney. Not one bit. He had underestimated Sasha’s power over her. That was a very foolish thing on his behalf. Somehow that ditzy, silly ghoul with far too much hair and far too few brains had gotten a piece of his Sydney when he wasn’t looking. He was NOT in a good mood when Sydney went to the choir tryouts. Not at all. And then she started running around with the blonde boil? Ooooh, Izy was PISSED!
And it showed that night, when he still refused to talk to her.
((TBC))
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Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 9:49 am
“What,” she finally said, her irritation clear in her voice, “is your problem today, Izy?” he said, irritated with his own petulant tone. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. He really needed to practice his tones. Unfortunately that was rather hard to do when he was eternally being heard by her.
“Yes, I have a few friends. I didn’t think I’d have even that. So... why aren’t you happy for me?” she asked, sounding much like a scareling close to tears. He mentally stopped, wondering what the sensation he was feeling was--why he felt--felt--guilty! He had never felt guilty in his life! This was what he was! He was an incubus--not even JUST an incubus! He was an obsession incubus! Her attention was his bread and butter! And it was being threatened! “Izy?” she asked. “Izy, I’m sorry.”
Wait... what?
She headed for her bed, crawling on top of it and bringing her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly. “I made a fool of myself, singing in front of everyone like that. I did it at the sleepover, too--I can’t even remember all the stupid things I did, but... but that’s not how your partner should appear in front of the rest of Deus,” she whispered, sounding close to tears.
“Well...”
“You’re my best friend,” she whispered.
Ouch. OUCH. That was painful, downright vicious, even. How could she say those words to him when he still didn’t even have the balls to tell her what he was? He KNEW how she felt about incubus and succubus and anything other than grayhounds that ended with the word “bus!” She never spoke of it, but he could see it clearly in her mind--and that moment with the siren in the haunted house? DEFINITE tell. If she knew what he was--she would hate herself for letting him in, and more importantly to him, she would hate HIM. He didn’t want her to hate him, he was still slipping into her heart! When he was fully in her heart--when her every moment was reflecting him--then she could hate him. But not yet.
“Izy? Please? Talk to me. I’m sorry I got mad at you! I really am, it’s just--I don’t like you being so rude about my friends.”
Izy asked finally.
A little laugh escaped her. She tried to hide it, but it slipped out without her wanting it to. “No, we aren’t talking about Jerry. And it’s really impolite to call him that--we hardly know the man. Plus, he can play a guitar.”
Izy agreed.
“Well most guys that lead choirs should be,” she told him, still smiling slightly. “Sasha seemed quite happy about him, at least. That’s good enough, don’t you think?”
Which he felt two different things about right now. One, he was glad that Jerry wasn’t a threat--there was no hint that she would fight him about spending time with Jerry or anything. But it DID go back to the Sasha issue. And then there was a new, even more dangerous issue. The blonde boil. he asked abruptly.
“The pirates one? But it was cute!”
he told her.
“But I can’t sing either, so that shouldn’t matter, right? Besides, I like Aleister. He’s one of the first few people I’ve felt comfortable around here,” she said.
And how could he deal with that? Forbid her from seeing him because he might try and form a closer relationship? Who knew if that would happen? Was he overreacting? No, he wasn’t going to worry about the boil’s thoughts, those didn’t matter. What mattered was his Sydney’s thoughts on it.
he asked in a pathetic little voice.
“Oh Izy, I was just teasing!” she said. “Even if I knew the song I wouldn’t sing it to punish you!”
“I really shouldn’t sing at all, if that’s the case,” she said, frowning. “I mean I don’t want to torture you.”
... He had totally walked into that one.
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