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 Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 7:31 pm
Who: Pasha and Cesc
Where: Shopping district, Durem
When: Early afternoon
In a daze, Melisande pushed open the door and drifted out of Second Chances. The early afternoon light was suddenly blinding, and the chatter of the crowd pushing down the sidewalk seemed too loud. Pasha blocked the sun with one pale hand, fingers spread as she squinted up at the sky. How long had she been here? How long since the only other Muses she’d ever met, Azure and Amira, had appeared so unexpectedly?
She was still wearing the gray dress shirt and white tie that Amira had dressed her in. It was fitted so beautifully that it almost wore like a dress…clinging to the beginnings of what would one day be svelte curves. The tie complimented her pale hair perfectly, curls pinned in an updo that glinted with discreet rhinestones. Only her expression seemed out of place. Confusion set a line between her fair brows, and weariness creased the corners of Melisande’s blue eyes. She dropped her hand slowly as her eyes adjusted, and found the sea of people around her had paused.
Faces had turned towards her, all a respectful distance back. Melisande’s disorientation returned twofold as they all started to talk at once.
“She’s SO pretty!”
“…get those clothes in the shop?”
“-saw her sing at the café’, she-“
“Hey, can you sing something now?”
“…think they’re open?”
“-offer lessons? What do you-“
“What’s your name? Miss?”
Pasha drifted back, until she bumped into the thrift shop door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the enthusiasm, but she was exhausted, and scared for more than one reason. Her hand sought the handle, and she closed her eyes for a moment when it didn’t budge. Locked. "Please..." Her head bowed, back flattening against the glass of the door.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:15 pm
Go out, go out~, Vivi had said not so long ago, her hair pinned back as she set to work decorating large croquembouche for a client's wedding, her red dress half-obscured by her apron. Although the Raevan often helped in wedding deliveries, there was little for him to do today other than just stand about and look, and so Vivi eventually shooed him out. It was not often the Frei got to see places other than Gambino, and although Vivi could not accompany him around the shopping district, she was just as eager as Cesc for him to go off exploring. And so, leaving her to her cake, he went.
For a little while, Cesc simply wandered, appreciating the window designs of this shop or that, smiling at those who could not pull curious gazes from him in time. He did not know where he was going, only that he felt he should go down this street, see these shop windows, continue along this path. He was dressed in the tailored black button-down shirt he had purchased with Rivener, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a simple three-button dove-grey vest atop it. There was nothing ostentatious about his dress -- only, his bright hair and wings stood out in sharp contrast to his choice in clothes, drawing attention where he did not particularly care to receive it.
Suddenly, though, all eyes turned away from him -- away from anything they had previously been looking at -- like magnets drawn to another source. Cesc, too, felt himself stopping cold, his float halting as though he had just run into a brick wall. His fingertips began to tingle, like waking from numbness. He craned his neck toward where all others were looking, his mind starting to hum with thought and activity.
People murmured their adulation. They saw beauty. They saw talent. But Cesc, Cesc felt fear.
His heart twisted with an ache and confusion not his own. There was a ringing sense of pain that vibrated through him.
He knew this feeling.
Cesc floated through the onlookers, sliding through with purpose, until he saw the slim, tired, heart-stoppingly beautiful figure of the muse before him. She was plastered to the door of a shop like a cornered animal, her head bowed. And she was lovely, and it was obscuring the clarity of his vision, like a lotus-eater struggling against his drug. The tingling in his fingers kept his mind right. There was more than her beauty to focus on.
She had lost something. Somethings? Someone. He couldn't decipher it all.
"Melisande?" he asked, gathering a small greeting smile, his low voice hushed as though waking her. He still floated apart, unwilling to press their tenuous acquaintance.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:20 pm
Any other day, and she would have tried. She couldn't answer every question, heed every request, but she would have tried. As it was, she floated weary and hungry, surrounded by the wrong kind of attention. So many voices...
But only one of them spoke her name. Melisande lifted her head slowly, blue eyes the only color in her face. The questions still came, but they blurred together now into white noise. He stood out from the crowd as vividly as she did...and the way they had both dressed so sharply, in their blacks and whites and greys, lent the two Raevans a harmony that wasn't lost on the crowd. Nor was her last memory of Cesc lost, and even now, Pasha had the grace to blush.
"Excuse me." Though her tone was sweet, the Sigel's voice rang through the small crowd. People parted automatically, startled, and Melisande arched her back away from the comfort of the door. With delicate bearing, she drifted towards Cesc, and offered both hands forward to capture one of his.
"I am...very glad to see you." Pasha smiled the tiniest smile, her gaze locked on Cesc's.
The questions ceased. While a few with manners drifted away, the rest of the crowd seemed to hold their breath, watching wide eyed.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:52 pm
Color returned to the muse's face as her blue eyes found his, and Cesc's smile grew warmer, friendlier. She had not forgotten him, even came forward to greet him, her smaller hands gathering up one of his own. Immediately, as though warming her, Cesc put his free hand atop hers, his still-tinging fingers gentle. Touching her was like a jolt sparking through him, electrifying his senses and pinching his heart. He wanted to absorb all the pain and confusion he felt from her, absorb it and let it simply disappear... Why could he feel it with such clarity? Usually he felt only small things, faint murmurings of loss, but hers -- hers, this magnificent creature -- was like listening to her clear and perfect voice.
"I knew I could not be mistaken. You are easy to place," Cesc said, his voice steady, his smile earnest. Despite (or perhaps because of?) the feelings that communicated themselves silently to him, he was glad to be in her company again. He inclined his head toward her slightly, as though he meant to bow.
"It is a pleasure to see you again. I hope you are well...?"
He said the last line with a muted politeness, his eyes explaining that he could see that she was not. The crowd at his back did not interest him; his tone and posture and gaze on Melisande were the same as though they were completely alone, engaged, easy, companionable.
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 7:10 am
Everything that had been weighing on Melisande seemed somehow more bearable, now that a friend was close at hand. In truth, they hadn't known each other long enough to be friends, but that did little to lessen her relief. "You as well." She answered with a smile, as Cesc commented on her memorability. Pasha let his hand slip from hers after the greeting, but drifted a bit closer. The crowd continued to disperse, perhaps not intrigued with basic pleasantries.
"I..." She wanted to say she was well. She met the Frei's eyes again, and sighed. The words would be empty. What she truly wanted was some peace...a quiet place to rest, and gather her thoughts. "Would you like to see the fountain? Are you...otherwise occupied?" The little flowers, closed tightly at her temples, echoed her stress. He had such a lovely bearing for one so young...perhaps he would accompany her, if just for a while.
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 8:28 am
People seemed to expect things of the Muse, Cesc noted distantly as the people behind him continued to go about their ways. The crowd -- what had they wanted of her? Some drama to be played out, a song to be sung? It confused the stag, the weight of this constant audience. No matter how Melisande looked it, she was not a princess in a musical. Did they not see that?
But all the same, he could not but admit that she was special...
Rhedefre waited for her reply, his face quietly sympathetic as Melisande sighed. The exhalation rippled through him, making waves on the emotions that drifted from her to him. She did not lie. As she offered to show him the fountain, he extended his arm to her, a gentlemanly motion.
"There is a fountain nearby? I would be glad to see it. It is only my second time in Durem; I know very little of the city," he said, laughing a soft laugh, trying to dissipate some of the tension that surrounded Melisande. "And I am free for as long as I am wanted."
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 3:00 pm
Melisande's smile dimpled just the slightest bit as he offered to escort her, a blossom at her temple ruffling. It was a kind gesture, which she accepted with the delicate weight of her hand upon his arm. His laugh made her smile deepen, and she ducked her head as though to obscure it. Though her expression was more welcoming than it had been outside the store, nothing she felt had changed. The Muse had been living this way for a long time, a smile outside, and the small sad part of her that waited still, within.
"There is. It's close, just this way~" One of her wings arched open slowly, creating enough drag that it turned them ever so slightly towards the tall mouth of an alley. The high brick walls were studded with windows and framed with a few tendrils of tenacious ivy that seemed to grow from no where. The distant sound of water drew closer as they drifted.
When they were alone, Pasha glanced sidelong at Cesc. For once, not a curl was out of place. Amira had done a good job. "Thank you, for coming to say hello. I don't have the...energy...for people today." Her voice was quiet, and the brief smile had faded, but she tightened her hand on his arm for just a moment. "What brought you into the city?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 3:55 pm
Cesc was happy to see Melisande's smile. It was charming -- how could a person be so effortlessly charming? -- but he knew it did not change that feeling that communicated itself to him. How could it? A smile can soothe, but it cannot heal a deep wound. He wanted to say this to her, to tell her to let go of that sweet smile and to let out whatever it was that hurt her, even if it caused her to show herself as less than the goddess she appeared to be. To cry, or to scream, or to simply unload in words all that she felt, would it not be more agreeable? But to state such opinions was impossible. Though he could not help it, he felt that what he knew of her was already taking a vast liberty, like stealing a glimpse at Melisande's diary. No -- they were not yet friends. He could not venture advice to her as it was.
The stag allowed himself to be steered, only breaking his gaze from his companion to notice the ambling ivy and the dark red brick of the surrounding walls. It was so much older here than in Gambino, where everything seemed to be new and white and wooden. And in the shadows of the alley, Melisande became twice as mysterious, the elaborate pinning and rhinestones in her hair a contrast to the simplicity of her grey shirt and tie. A dame from a film noir mystery, the lady in trouble...
"You are too generous. There is no call for thanks. I could not help myself but to come forward. I confess I have hoped to make your acquaintance again since the summer party," said Cesc pleasantly to the muse, his smile widening slightly. He gestured to his own clothing, plucking with his free hand at his vest. "My family runs a bakery, and we came to Durem to deliver a wedding cake for a client. But I was one set of hands too many today, so I thought I might wander for a while."
Cesc's voice had a pleasant lilt, his accent making the rhythm of his words foreign and slightly uneven, stressing the wrong syllables now and then."It is a lucky accident, meeting you. But I am sorry to find you unwell. I do not suppose there is something with which I could help?" He inclined his head to make better eye contact with the muse, his honey-colored eyes smiling as much as his mouth. "I am good for more than just fetching the odd beverage."
He hoped she would not mind the jest.
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 5:20 pm
Pasha's arm slipped from his as she covered her mouth with one hand. Her cheeks were bright at the mention of the misunderstanding, but it was obvious she was smiling. "I'm still so sorry about that. You were sweet to bring me a drink anyway!"
She drifted to a halt as they entered a little courtyard, paved in the same brick as the buildings they had passed. The balconies of quaint apartments lined the second stories that bordered the tiny plaza, dotted with baskets of bright red and yellow begonias. As promised, there was a fountain in the center...a grecian woman in rough grey stone, pouring water from a vase tipped on her shoulder. "And I'd been hoping to see you again, as well." Pasha settled on the bench surrounding the fountain, angling her 'hip' against the seat and leaning her weight on one arm. It was surprisingly nice to take a moment and relax, and she enjoyed looking at Cesc. The pink was just lovely, like rosy skies over golden deserts.
"But I'm not...unwell. Just tired, and..." She trailed off, dabbling the very tips of her fingers in the water of the basin. "...did you say wedding cakes?" Her little smile was back, blue eyes curious.
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 6:19 pm
Cesc only shook his head as Melisande apologized again for the misunderstanding, his smile and bearing showing that it was all water under the bridge. After all, he wondered, who could have denied her any request?
Cesc floated down beside her, taking a 'seat' on the bench, turning and looking up at the figure of the woman that made up the fountain. The place was so quiet and lovely, so secluded in the middle of the rough-and-tumble city, a little oasis. Even the statue seemed at peace, her immovable face and unseeing eyes looking forward with a calm serenity.
The stag turned back to the muse as she spoke again, his own gentle smile reappearing on his face. He could not but smile when she spoke, regardless of the pain that still tugged his brain, unceasing. Was this what she felt? An undying impulse to smile, despite what she had lost?
He wished he could ask. But she did not seem to wish to speak of it. Perhaps what she wished for was distraction.
"Yes, wedding cakes," Rhedefre said with a nod. "We only make them on special order, but they are something quite beautiful to see. This tall sometimes, even --" He put out a hand as a measurement, some 3 feet off the ground. "-- and always decorated with immacu..." He paused as the word escaped his tongue, his brows coming together. A self-depreciating expression crossed his face as he tried the word again, pronouncing it carefully, as though it might break. "...decorated imma-cu-lately. Buttercream and bows and flowers. They are very lovely, and very delicious. The brides always shriek when they see them completed."
Cesc leaned forward, propping his head up on his hand, a boyish grin tilting half his face. "It is very nice to see. Have you ever had one?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 9:03 pm
Melisande's eyes got wider as Cesc talked. She watched him mark the height, so far off the ground, and held her breath as he described the delicate frosting trappings. Her fingers found the white fabric of her slender tie as he described the bride's joy, and dropped her eyes as though their story should be private.
It wasn't until he asked his question that her smile faded. "Have I ever had what? Cake?" She watched the white fabric of the tie slip through her slender fingers, and winced, remembering the way her colorless ribbon snapped and lashed in the Dreaming. The way the waves frothed and crashed against the beach. The way-
"...Or a wedding?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 9:22 pm
Cesc drew in a breath as the muse's smile faded and she winced, his heart twisting, his fingers going numb. His eyes squinted just slightly, and he blinked slowly as the feeling passed. He had caused something, something unpleasant.
Someone, his heart whispered. It must be a someone.
"A wedding cake," he said after a moment, his hand going absently over his heart, rubbing his collarbone as though trying to massage away the feeling. How long could he continue to keep what he felt from the Muse? Would it be helpful or harmful to know he could share in her troubles? "They are usually in different flavors. Or perhaps it's simply easy to think of them as tasting different? They are each of them special."
Here Rhedefre paused, lowering his eyes to something on the pavement, something that tugged gently at him for notice. He 'knelt', reaching down from his position on the bench, and lifted the thing in a slow motion -- a single earring, a long dangling piece of silver with a heart at its end. He righted himself, showing the earring to the muse.
"Ah, what a pity. It isn't yours, by chance?"
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 9:38 pm
Pasha drew back, dropping her eyes to the clear fountain waters. The distorted image of coins shone back at her, wishes upon wishes upon wishes. She brushed her hand across the water, and the coins vanished in a hundred glinting ripples. No part of her wanted to bring the sweet Frei down, and she could see it in the set of his shoulders, the hitch of his breath, the pity in his eyes.
"They sound lovely." Her voice was light, and she met his eyes without wavering. "Perhaps I could watch you make one, someday." The Sigel's smile was shy and sweet, impressively at odds with how she felt. She blinked as he bent and retrieved the earring, watching it dangle from between his fingers silently for several long moments.
"No." She finally admitted, and pushed gracefully away from the fountain and up to her usual height. Everything was catching back up with her, heavy enough that she almost lost her breath beneath the weight. Pasha tilted her head at the Frei, and reached forward, closing his hand around the earring. Nothing was easy, anymore...it would be a disservice to drag the beautiful young man into it.
"It's not mine...and it's owner probably won't come back for it." Her voice was thick, despite her efforts and surprisingly clear smile. "Make it into something pretty. Give it to someone you like."
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 7:24 pm
"I would like that," said Cesc to the muse's thought of watching him bake. His smile was genuinely pleased, although he did not have her talent of hiding the pain he felt. Still, he met her gaze, and looked gratified for her company. "Perhaps for the end of the decorating -- that is the most fun to see, it all comes together." He made a blossoming motion with his hands. "Suddenly it looks very complete."
But as Melisande rose, the smile faded from Cesc's face. Some of the tiredness, the expression he saw on her face only minutes ago when he met her, returned. He opened his mouth to speak -- what could he say? How could he be a comfort? -- but she silenced him with a touch.
That touch. All at once, he suddenly saw something in his mind's eye: a brunette woman brushing back her hair, standing by the fountain, with a man. A silver earring, dangling, with a heart, falling from her ear. A flash that whispered: north, north, I saw her go north.
There was no mistaking it. It came from Melisande's touch. It was like soaring, the sudden understanding he felt for the earring and its owner, as though he were given the sudden capability to unlock a part of himself that had always been so distant, impossible to understand. When she drew back her hand, he felt nothing from the earring. It returned to being silent metal.
Cesc stared at Melisande for a long moment, a look of wonder lifting his eyebrows and widening his eyes. He gaped, unable to speak for a moment, and rose to float at her height. He licked his lips and tried to find words, and finally they came out:
"Can you -- feel what it is that you do?" he said, garbled, unsure if his message made any sense. "Melisande. Your talent... "
He looked down at his hand, at the earring within his palm, and shook his head, smiling faintly, unsure of how to explain himself.
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 7:56 pm
Melisande's thoughts were entirely self-pitying as she closed his hand around the earring. It was abandoned. It was better off with someone else that might one day love it...wasn't it? Old pain twisted in her, but for the first time, she didn't see the echo of it on Cesc's face.
Instead, she saw rapture. Pasha's lips parted, and time for her seemed to slow. She could see her own reflection in the Frei's eyes. Her image, iconic; his iris, her corona. Petals, shed in grief, caught in the slow breeze and shone like day stars against his golden gaze. Her breath caught in her throat...not at beauty of the image, but what it might mean. To him. To others.
You can use your talents to inspire others, and guide them towards greatness.
Amira's words tugged at her memory like illuminations at the edges of a fragile page. For a moment, Melisande almost understood. There was a Plan...and maybe, just maybe, this soul was a part of it.
"I feel...something. Cesc?" Her voice was delicate, a breath.
Find your calling.
Melisande cupped the Frei beneath the chin with one hand, tilting his head gently upward. Without explanation, she leaned forward, and pressed her lips against his warm cheek. Her other hand folded over his, obscuring the earring once again.
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