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 Posted: Sat Jul 20, 2013 8:51 pm
Casual, Micah reminded herself. Something casual. So no floral print dress and lace stockings. No violet tunic cinched with a brown belt and green leggings. Jeans. Jeans and a tee shirt. Alois was only coming over for lunch; this was not a date. Or what it? He did ask if her parents were going to be there. What did that even mean? Micah was still more than a little on edge about that. So on edge, as it stood, that she carefully tucked her henshin pen into her pocket, making sure it was ready should she need it. She probably wouldn’t, right? Like, it was nice to have insurance, right? Even Misha agreed that Micah should be safe in the case. He wasn’t even really happy about what she’d done, staring at her from the doorway as she turned this way and that.
“I’d go with flats and something over your shoulders, Mykes.”
Micah looked at her brother’s reflection, biting her lower lip in consideration. He was right. She looked too desperate for attention with heels and bare shoulders. She should just call Alois. She was dying, can’t make dinner then, right? Maybe she could still salvage some of her dignity if she just crawled back into her pajamas and under her covers. Go away future. Go away Alois. I’m dead.
As Misha passed, he pulled her hair out of the braid she’d pulled it back in. You look better with your hair down, he cited. Micah turned away from her reflection, tossing a discarded skirt over the reflective surface. Misha only clucked at her and handed over a pair of boots and a shrug.
“I don’t want to look too formal – ”
“Shut up and trust me.”
Micah groaned and plopped down, shoving her feet into the brown boots with unneeded aggression. When she stood, Misha helped her into her jacket and stood back, awaiting his sister’s judgment.
Micah had to admit, it was perfect. And her hair softened the formal effect. Misha was right. He was always right when it came to things like this. Still, Micah pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth, wringing her hands.
“Maybe I should just call it off – ”
“Mikey-Sweetie, dad and I are heading out! Stay safe, alright pumpkin?” As Micah called her affirmation down the stairs, Misha passed her, heading straight for the kitchen where Micah is so previously been working. She had to race to beat him, and even then she had to slap a spoon out of his hands.
“I cook enough for you, stop mooching.”
Misha growled something at her and slunk away, Micah calling after him to leave the front door open, hoping that would be invitation enough for Alois to simply walk in. Alois. The thought of the man made Micah’s mind set to fretting. Did she look too desperate? Was she screaming for attention with this outfit? I mean, she wasn’t really all that fond of her legs; they were so masculine, and yet they were out for god and all the world to see. And she was wearing make up… Misha had taken care to only highlight her cheekbones and eye color but it still felt foreign. She could feel the powders and creams like layers of cloth.
She wanted to rub it off.
As she stirred the lamb tikka masala, she considered running away. Alois would arrive to an empty house and maybe eat, but eventually leave. And then he wouldn’t want to see her again. Because she was flighty and inconsistent. And she would save herself still. And yet, even through her worries, she still set out the warm naan and basmati rice. Did she really want to run away…
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Posted: Mon Jul 22, 2013 7:39 am
Sweenys_Revenge I need to catch you online for house details! And I wrote this too early so let me know if I should edit or fix it.
Almost.
After an exhausting night, he preferred to simply sleep well into the afternoon. Without a job to consider, without any real obligations currently, he had the means and the motive for it. So why not? When exhausted, he could sleep. However, he hadn't accounted for Alexandre's dog to become quite so rowdy and rambunctious at the sight of an empty food bowl. And with the blonde out working, there was only one other capable human being in the house to fill the task.
And that was at six in the morning.
Ever since, he spent the newfound hours exploring the city in its early morning routine. People ablaze with stress, rushing around while they multitasked their way to work, failed to greet him with the same leisure as before, if they greeted him at all. They walked around him brusquely and continued power walking toward their destinations. And in turn, Alois kept his crippled pace, and approached the freeway overpass with even more interest than before. Upon reaching the location, he sat on the freshly-set wall of the overpass, with a handful of rocks amassed from his trek, and began tossing them at the traffic below. Despite being small rocks, he still garnered great enjoyment out of hearing the stone crack across delicate windshields.
And that was how he spent his early morning.
After he made it home, he took a nap that stretched to hours, and nearly overlapped with his lunch with Micah. By the time he slipped into a twilight half-conscious state, he idly checked his phone, and realized the speed at which he'd have to get dressed to arrive on time.
Then again, when did he ever care about being on time? Still, he didn't have the inclination to think about it when he had so little leeway for getting there at the proper hour. Since Alexandre wasn't around, he couldn't pester the boy for a ride. Too bad; sometimes that was all he's good for.
Even with all that hurried nonsense, he still arrived ten minutes late.
And the door was standing open. Who the hell leaves the door open?
It didn't matter; he proceeded inside without immediately announcing his presence. After leaning back on the door and shutting it with his weight, he considered calling for her. It might be better than skulking around the house and startling the girl into a heart attack, or retaliation of the violent variant. He sighed; he preferred avoiding tradition and politeness altogether, yet here he was succumbing to it. All for the sake of some girl who he suspected to have a powered identity. What a pisser.
"Micah?" He called, hoping to receive a prompt answer. That is, if the girl was still here.
He could be walking into a burglary, after all. Door was open.
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Posted: Mon Jul 22, 2013 8:22 pm
He stood you up. And you know what, that’s okay. It’s okay because that only saves you humiliation and pain, right? Literal pain if he brought those friends and tried to hurt you. And besides, he’s a stranger in your home and he’s be uncomfortable, making you uncomfortable, and it would just be bad. This is for the best, right? Right.
And yet, Micah’s heart still sank deep into her stomach. Leaning on the peninsula that separated the casual dining room from the kitchen, she felt like she’d let herself down. Maybe if she’d been less forward. Maybe if she’d just gone to the damned overpass. Maybe if she’d just been a little less herself. This would have worked out. Like… what if they got married? What if Alois was the one and she’d ******** it all up because “hey, come over to my house” seemed like a grand idea.
You idiot.
Micah scoffed at herself and shucked off her jacket, deciding there wasn’t a point in being modest anymore. It was just going to be her and Misha when he got home. Misha didn’t have an opinion one way or the other about her shoulders. He always said they were boney and maybe too broad – which is why she wasn’t very fond of them – but that was about it. She even pulled her hair back with a rubber band, keeping it off her neck to cool herself off in the heat of the newly used kitchen. She even considered shucking her boots off before she decided it was too much effort to bend down and remove them. No. She’d much rather drown her embarrassment in Indian food and call it a day. Maybe play Portal with Misha after.
And then she heard her name.
That wasn’t Misha. And it wasn’t her father either.
“Kitchen,” she called a little to excitedly before realizing Alois had no way of knowing where that was. Granted, the foyer was only a short left turn and an only slightly longer hallway away from the open kitchen… Micah should still meet her guest at the door. And, very nearly stumbling over herself, she did. Her hair was falling out of the loose rubber band to frame her face in wild curls and her chest and shoulders were flushed with some combination of embarrassment and anticipation but other than that she looked relatively well put together.
Oh god her shoulders.
Micah’s face flushed as her hands rose to cross over her chest briefly. No. Don’t draw attention to it. Maybe Alois hasn’t noticed. Oh god, Micah was all legs and shoulder right now, just… knobs and points and…
“Hi,” she finally gasped, pushing her unruly hair out of her face. And there she stood for just a moment, beaming and flushed.
You idiot.
“Oh right!” Micah hid her face in her hands as she yelped. “The kitchen! You – we need to be in the kitchen!” And so she bustled down the hall to the right of the door, yammering on about how sorry she was for being so unaware of things, and oh, there’s the bathroom if you need it.
“I didn’t make anything for desert, because – ah – I thought it might be too much. And I didn’t have time to get anything. But I do have ice cream if you want it! I mean, my family does. I personally don’t own much, just a few things. I’m not a princess or anything, like I’m not spoiled, just… um… well taken… care of… um.” She trailed off near the end, standing by the table, blushing harder if that was at all possible. Finally she ducked her head and pulled out Alois’ chair, unsure if that was even something she was supposed to do.
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 9:56 am
Shoulders and knees.
Nothing but shoulders and knees and monstrous coils of hair.
And then he saw her face. A touch of makeup, a dash of embarrassment, a hint of relief. She wore her expressions like the mountains wore snow.
And he kept this to himself, for this was no place for such mild ruminations.
Alois remained silent during her explosive introduction, and watched her relentlessly during her hurried actions and breathless, stumbling responses. It was almost endearing, the way his appearance wholly affected her. Maybe not him - maybe anyone. The girl's passions were so easily swayed; even the most mild mannered citizen might steer her down a different path. But that snow... despite its serene appearance, the avalanches are deadly. And it doesn't take much to start an avalanche.
He should tread lightly.
While she boiled down the halls, he walked leisurely. In the wake of the hurricane, he eyed the plethora of knickknacks, little touches to sooth the walls. Little quirks to quietly assuage visitors and whisper that yes, we are just like you. The typical American home, he'd finally found it. Perhaps he'd found the typical American girl, too. Though the decor hinted scottish, that heritage was a part of her that drifted overseas with the immigrants. These things only solidified her Americanism.
She wasn't some facsimile. She wasn't a cheerleader, or a blonde, or someone's high school sweetheart. She was a boisterous girl, with a penchant for awkward conversation and a habit of being accidentally forward with him. She wore her hair in an indescribably messy, loose ponytail, and it burst out of its bonds easily. Her eyes, yellow and expressive, constantly shifted from object to object and only met his gaze in fits and starts. In her own way, she teased him, yet he suspected she was never conscious of that truth. Her gaze never lingered on him, and that taunted him greatly.
He made peace with her trite decorations and followed the path of chaos to the kitchen, which bore the same burden of family photos and strange trinkets. However, he found the hurricane still ransacking the place, filling every minute space with her worry and excitement and wholly awkward mannerisms, and she addressed him with that force. She addressed her family with that force. She addressed herself with that force.
Alois rested both hands on his cane and watched her curiously. "I'm not judging you for having ice cream," he responded with a thin smirk. I'm judging you for all the s**t littering your house. "Relax a little; it's not going to kill you." He would've offered her more of a grin, but she hadn't earned it yet. She hadn't earned much of anything; no amount of inviting him to her home or cooking for him could endear her to him. If she actually wanted his affections, she desperately needed to depart from the normal and seek out stranger ways of expressing herself.
She already pulled a chair out for him, a curious gesture, but he was never one for tradition. Alois embarked across the stretch of tile and sat regardless. After hooking the cane on the back of the chair, he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on the bony mess. "You weren't zis nervös before. What changed?" Was she so easily swayed by a different setting and different action? That was almost endearing.
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 10:46 am
As Alois sat and considered her, Micah busied herself putting the shrug back on, hiding her damned shoulders at long last. Comfortable with at least that done, Micah was able to settle back into her skin, though her nerves were still frayed. She pulled her hair back down, sort of detesting the way it pulled at her scalp when she had to tie it back, but all the same lamenting the loss of cool air on the back of her neck.
“Well,” she began, taking her seat a few feet to the right of Alois. “I had other things to worry about when we last met. Like smoothing over what I had done, making sure you weren’t overly injured because of my trespasses, and trying to maybe salvage whatever kind of a relationship we might have, even if it’s just acquaintances.” Finally she sighed, tucking her legs up to sit Indian-style on her chair without thinking about how un-lady like it was. She was growing slowly more comfortable, now that Alois was at least here and she was in an environment that she could control. However the one nervous gesture bled through her newly found pseudo-zen as she pulled a thick lock of hair over her shoulder and twirled it around her pointer finger.
“Like I don’t was to burn every bridge I come across, much to the misconception of others.” It was true, as Alois could not have failed to notice. Micah tended to come across as aggressive if met on less than perfect terms. And so she had been with him, and honestly, in that moment she had every intention of making herself look as bad as possible, for whatever reason. Maybe it was a defense mechanism in the guise of honesty. This is all of me; be frightened and run. No one could hurt her if she scared them all away, right?
She cleared her throat after what must have only been a split second of thought and tugged once on her hair before tossing it back over her shoulder.
“I sort of… wear myself on my sleeve for some reason. I’ve made more enemies than friends that way, and I still can’t seem to learn my lesson.” She leaned forward as she spoke, hands neatly folded in her lap. She glanced from her knees to the table top to the wall and back to the table top before her gaze finally rested on Alois. Her heart shot up into her throat.
What the hell was that?
She cleared her throat again and quickly recovered, hoping her shock didn’t display too much on her face, but knowing the flush once again betrayed her. “I – um – hope you don’t mind Indian. Lamb tikka masala and rice. It’s nothing too fancy… but I enjoyed making it anyway. Um… help yourself! It’s not spicy, I can’t take spicy foods. Too Scottish I guess.” She wasn’t sure if Alois would get the joke about her countries stereotypically bland food… but it was worth a shot, right?
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 3:52 pm
"So you're always zis uptight?" Alois flashed her a grin. How quaint; now that she had nothing preoccupying her, she was likely even more tense than before. And how would she react to a situation without extraneous details to deter her from what she faced? Since she wasn't busy repairing their potential relationship or ensuring she didn't force him to strain himself, she would have to look at him now. There were no more obstacles.
That could go in his favor or against it.
On one hand, she might find him abrasive and unconscionably cruel, an accurate portrayal. She'll assert that she can't deal with his terribly stark views on humanity, and his misanthropic tendencies. They'll never see eye-to-eye, and she's looking for more in life than some miserable maggot wallowing in his own hate. Whether she possessed that kind of eloquence was beyond him, but his point remained the same. Should she see him, really see him, he'd never find out her true potential. Though that was unfortunate, it wasn't devastating. He could walk away from this.
On the other hand, she might find him to her liking. She could appreciate his contemplative nature, could find him attractive through his stoicism. Though it seemed farfetched, it was possible she appreciated his looks. What a laugh... Who was he kidding? Regardless, whatever she might find in him could form a firmer friendship, and through that, she might reveal if she actually has a powered identity. If not, then she could prove useful in other ways. Perhaps she has a few powered friends, or he may plant the seeds of doubt in her mind to kindle that passion into a renegade force against the White Moon Court.
Naturally, both scenarios assumed she wouldn't conjure her own obstacles to block her view of him.
Alois drew a breath and obscured his mouth with his laced hands. He never took his gaze off her as he spoke. "I always sought zat people like milling about in ze dark. Zey dislike ze real world in all its stark tribulations, so zey construct zeir own version of it. Religion is one coping mechanism. War is anozzer. If you cannot create somesing to distract yourself from its true nature, zen fight it. Attack it toos' and nail and you might subdue it. Maybe zat's why people dislike you - you're realistic in your approach, not a façade. So, zey fight you. It's nossing personal, zey're just protecting zeir darkness. You light sings up a little too much."
Finally he dished out some of Micah's cooking; he hadn't had any Indian dishes in years, and though the flavors were very nontraditional to him, they appealed occasionally. The color looked good, and the lamb seemed well-cooked without going overboard. She obviously had a talent for making the dish, as appeared high quality. Finally he left the ladle in the dish and waited for her to help herself as well.
Her statement lent to an irony that he appreciated, though it might've gone unnoticed to her. Here he was explaining philosophies on human nature, yet he couldn't grasp a simple joke made on her part.
How terribly fitting.
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 4:44 pm
As ready as Micah was to rebuff his… could she consider them compliments… she halted, mid word, to consider what he’d said. She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, as he thought. What was she to make of that? It seemed like with every step she made towards Alois he was pushed two steps back. Every gesture, every word was a mystery that sent Micah spiraling back into herself to think long and hard about what to do next, something she didn’t pride herself on doing normally. What would Misha say if he could see his normally impulsive sister given pause to really consider her next move? Would he clap Alois on the back and congratulate him? Laugh at her?
You have tamed the wild she maiden of the north.
Tamed nothing. Micah finally looked up, accidentally locking eyes with Alois. She’d never met anyone with the same color eyes as her and her brother. Eyes that decided hazel was too plain for them and landed smack dab in the middle of precious metal territory. Golden eyes, like twin suns set in the face of a mortal. If eyes were the window to someone’s souls, then golden portals must lead to something truly special, right? After a moment of staring, her mouth opened and closed, over and over, trying to find something to say. Anything to say. Preferably something smart and not the hopelessly childish giggle that bubbled in her stomach.
“I’ve never…” she hesitated, returning to tugging and fiddling with her hair. “I’ve never thought about it that way, I guess.” She’d never really thought about it at all. It was just another aspect of her personality that he discovered, understood to a usable extent, and then moved on. She always figured she had bigger things to worry about than whether or not she could understand herself. Much less would she equate herself to some sort of light bringer.
“Next thing I know you’re going to start calling me Prometheus or the Morning Star.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear and then pulling it back over her shoulder. “I’m not a torch bearer, I think you give me a little too much credit. I’m just an angry little girl. An angry little girl who, yes, is always this anxious. I figure scared is a good thing. Scared keeps me fast. Scared keeps me alive. As to what I’m afraid of… who knows. Death is the obvious answer, I suppose but… I’m not afraid to die. I’m wary of what comes after, but death is nothing to fear.” She kept talking, less yammering and more vocalizing her thoughts as she spooned out her own helpings, shoulder dropping and her muscles relaxing.
“Death doesn’t really hurt, it isn’t malicious. Death doesn’t chase you in the night, and it doesn’t necessarily hunt you. All of those things describe dying or things that might kill you but… death is a passive state. Then what am I afraid of? The dark, spiders? Well, yeah, but I’m not running form them. Then what? I haven’t really figured that out yet, I guess. I’m just running. So you were right when we first met.” She looked up through her lashes, bracing herself for judgment and abandonment. “I’m running from something. And maybe the fact that I don’t know what I’m running from is what keeps me running. Running towards figuring it out. Running from unknown fears. Who knows.”
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 5:08 pm
He probably shouldn't have said anything
The words flowed from her like a torrent of rapids, not smooth in their descent, but frothy and often broken by rocks. Nor did she appear to pay much heed to mitigation, for her speech undulated toward eternity at this rate. Would he have to weather these floods throughout the entirety of lunch? If so, then why did she bother setting out glasses of water? Seemed superfluous at best. Maybe she just wanted to drown him.
"Promeseus? Hardly; ze light of fire was painted in a positif' light zere. Ze dark isn't necessarily bad. And Morning Star... Well, we bos' know how far he fell. I did not grant you such a lofty position, if zat's what you're sinking." Did she normally regard herself in high esteem? No; those who held themselves in such tremendous esteem didn't dare to apologize to gutter trash. It wasn't in her nature; Alex was the only person he knew with that kind of arrogance.
So what was the point in referencing two well-known stories then? For fun? Or did she just misinterpret his words as a compliment?
Well, whatever.
She continued to prattle on while serving her own food, speaking of running and death and other vague references that he only caught in passing. Since she embarked on her tangent that held quite steady over the span of several minutes, he decided it was high time he sampled the food. She could continue her tirade while he ate; he didn't need his mouth to listen. Surely she understood that much.
If nothing else, the food was definitely worth coming for. The lamb tender, the sauces unique in their composition, and the rice cooked to a proper degree. He didn't often enjoy food, but this was certainly worth eating. Now if he could just wrench her from her ramblings long enough for him to enjoy the food...
"Heavy considerations like zat spoil ze food. Why don't you eat instead?" Instead of talking yourself in circles. Who taught you that company wants to hear such nonsense? Have you even considered death before? Have you seen it? I doubt it. Maybe it was time to change the subject before he exploded on her for hopeless insolence when considering the human condition. He wasn't about to sabotage his plans this early on.
Why not pick something relatively minor (read: admittedly boring) for once? "So you say you're from Scotland, eh? What brings you here?"
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 5:35 pm
Micah didn’t bother to hide her shock when Alois stamped out her considerations of a compliment. Again, she looked down, returning to coiling and recoiling her hair around her finger, poking at her food uselessly. Suddenly, she was not so hungry.
“I’m sorry I sort of… I saw the parallels and I just… I didn’t mean to imply…”
You idiot.
Micah silenced herself by biting down on the insides of her lips, focusing entirely on her food. She couldn’t kindle irritation for whatever reason, and instead the coals in her belly froze and flushed her again. Irritation would be easier to deal with. Easier to understand. This was… was this betrayal? And why not? She’d invited Alois into her home, made him food, worked, and then when he began speaking, albeit without prompt, she was shoved back into “her place.” Her lips thinned into a long line across her face and – ah. There it was. This she could deal with. The only drawback was, with all of her attention allocated to keeping herself from lashing out, there was none to keep her accent in check.
“Ah… that might have been a teeny lie to defend what little pride ah had left. Mah parents lev’ed in Scotland but my brother and ah… we were raised here en the states.” She didn’t look up and instead focused on keeping the little bites she took down against the roiling of her angry stomach. “We stell veset every summer but… I lev’ here. Mah parents moved when they got married. Lookin for adventure, they always said.” The memory did a little to quell the seething in her stomach, but it didn’t get rid of the flush in her cheeks and chest.
“Ah… ah…I…” she said very deliberately, trying to manage her accent before she went any further. “I… did recently get shipped off to Scotland, though. I got… stuck… in sort of a dark place. For a while. I got destructive and angry. So I was sent to live with my grandparent.” Micah shrugged dismissively, eating more surely now.
“What about you?” With her irritation at a sustainable and manageable level, Micah was able to look up at Alois without too much distraction – because really, those were were unreal. “What brings you from… Germany or Luxembourg or whatever it is you’re really from?”
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 9:17 pm
Alois considered pressing the matter, but instead chose to drop the issue. If he pursued his normal course, the inevitable would likely result, thus pushing her away from him permanently. That was perhaps the worst part of this endeavor - he had to play nice.
Though he kept his opinions to himself, it did not prevent him from elaborating on them while she spoke. It doesn't sound like you were raised in the states. People under duress return to their native tongue; you must've stayed there long enough to form the accent before you moved overseas. Either that, or you just picked it up from your parents at a young age. "What kind of a dark place?" What could send this girl into enough turmoil for her parents to send her out? Surely she didn't have a past akin to his own; though she was volatile in her own way, she didn't actively seek to hurt anyone. No, someone or something sent her into that dark place, and he wanted to know how.
Alois understood that there was give and take in every relationship, so despite his better judgment, he shared a fragment of his past. Naturally he doctored it to suit the occasion; she would not think highly of him should he disclose the real reasons. He doubted she would ever accept his truth; that's what made her perfect for this kind of use-and-abuse relationship. He simply had to remind himself that she would spurn him like the rest, and all rare instances of mercy are quelled.
"Germany, yes. Bexbach, in the state of Saarland." He figured she knew little of Germany's composition, so he elaborated on the location of his home state. "It's off ze border of Lorraine, France. We haf' to deal wis' a lot of ze scatterbrained French zat drift srough. Zey're intolerable, but that's beside ze point." He huffed; he hated the French and all their miserable laissez-faire attitude. Most of all, he hated speaking French since they were far too lazy to learn German for a change. "My family owns a bookstore; zey'f' always carried books of different languages, which was basically zeir calling card. Naturally zey haf' to import zeir wares, yes? So when Germany increased ze taxes on imported goods, it severely damaged zeir profits, and zey began to look elsewhere. Destiny City had a promising incentives program for new businesses, so here I am. It's not a terribly interesting story, but it's not like we had a choice eizer." It sounded boring enough to be realistic, anyway. Nevermind the fact that Germany didn't bother to raise their taxes, and Destiny City lacked any incentives programs for small businesses.
But why would a teenager like her concern herself with business affairs? She probably wouldn't, so she wouldn't know any better. And if she did? He must've misunderstood his parents' explanation for the move. They started speaking English at that point to prepare their kids anyway; he could've easily misinterpreted some words.
Bases covered, time to move on.
Alois continued to eat, though he took pauses between periods of consumption to elaborate on the conversation. "Do you like it here, zen? I imagine zat wis' your encounters, you might prefer Scotland." However, he suspected family tied her to the shithole known as Destiny City.
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 10:08 pm
What kind of dark place? Micah couldn’t very well just go on expounding about her tribulations as Acubens, now could she? She nibbled absently on a corner of lamb, trying to find some way to put it into words that wouldn’t incriminate her. She pinched the lock of hair between her fingers and worked the strands roughly, eyes darting this way and that.
“It’s… complicated… living here is like living in a war zone. Not like, it is. We are living in a war zone. I have a cooking class with a young man whose six year old brother was killed by a monster. Six years old, can you believe that?” Micah sighed angrily, stabbing the meat on her plate like it was the perpetrator. “And I got mixed up in it too. I lost friends. A lot of them. Some of them turned out to be fighting the war with the terrorists. Wrong side, right side, I’m not sure. Some wore white and some wore black, that’s all I know. But I lost them. Or at least a good portion of them.”
Not a total lie. And that was key, wasn’t it? Keeping the lies just honest enough to be possibly true?
“I lost people that I love, and then I lost hope. I got aggressive. I started fighting those… military… agents, are they?” Micah waved her fork, looking for the word, making a face like it was on the tip of her tongue. “Mmm… officers. I got into fights with them. But I’m only human, you know? I was in an out of hospitals, constantly bleeding, broken.” That part was blatant exaggeration. Micah was very careful not to fight out of her league. The only time she spent in the hospital was when that youma attacked her and her brother.
“And then one of my dark uniformed friends… well it came to light that she took someone’s life. An innocent person’s life. I went mad. I know that she came through the mirrors so… I broke them all. Every last mirror in the house, I shattered it. I was institutionalized before I was sent to Scotland.” She left out that her mother spent most of the time crying then, and that her father was only now able to look her in the eyes.
“I do like it more there, yeah. And it’s not so much Scotland as that it’s… not here… you know? And my grandfolks, they live in the country and along the coast… so for miles it’s just… sea and sand and green and… well, it’s gorgeous. But you don’t want to hear the details. No one ever does.”
Now Micah’s eating was more enthused. She mixed her rice and lamb together, creating a bright stew before she began eating in earnest. “Before Destiny City, though, we llived in Iowa. It was way quieter. We moved for sort of the same reason. My mom got a better position at Destiny City Surgery Center. Ground yourself to the normal things now, while you still can. Hmm! But I do want to know more about that bookstore! I’m sort of an avid reader… Do you still carry imported literature? I probably… well I couldn’t read it but… I’d like to take a look at it, that’s for sure!” Oh, and how that store must have smelled!
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 10:48 pm
Now that was worth hearing.
From what he gathered, she certainly didn't align herself with the Negaverse or the Dark Mirror Court (not that he cared for them regardless). And she specifically stated that she was aware of some individuals that fought in the well, so picking her brain for those connections might prove highly useful. However, none of this confirmed whether or not she had a powered identity herself. Still, knowing the names of his enemies confirmed this as a useful endeavor. Now if he could just wrench the names from her mind...
In due time.
"Zat must'f been hard to deal wis." He lacked the ability to sympathize, so he worried his response may sound stilted. "It reminds me of somesing..." For a moment his eyes betrayed a downcast expression, but it was gone as soon as it came. There was no reason for him to dwell on such events, and he could not be made to feel remorse for the actions of those long perished. Despite the similarities, he knew with certainty that this war was far different. Still, the Negaverse as a whole could stand to learn from the past.
Her mention of her country proved a convenient transition. "I'f seen Scotland before, in photos and videos mostly. It doesn't look much different from Ireland to me. It looks far more inviting zan zis city." Curious that a Scotsman found it troubling to live here, given their bloody history. But the same could be said for him. "Ze fact zat you returned shows remarkable bravery. Zough I may not elevate you to gods' status, I can gif' you zat. Most people would'f stayed, if zey had a choice. But you didn't, you returned despite what you went srough." Perhaps that might make amends for his earlier transgressions.
His cool demeanor turned remarkably colder at the mention of the bookstore. Since he left off with his family, and they refused him any chance of working given his injuries, he found it irritating to revisit those memories. "Yes, over half ze bookstore is still devoted to foreign language novels, zough I am sure Erik has learned to switch it over to primarily English literature. America might be a melting pot, but zat doesn't mean its mix of nationalities is a cash cow." In fact, most of the days he spent minding the store were whittled away in solitude.
As he polished off the masala, he considered the girl siting across from him. Pretty in a natural sense; that makeup wasn't doing her much justice. Her hair mirrored her wild, passionate nature, yet often it was suppressed via nervousness. She could cook unconscionably well for someone her age, and she also devoured books despite being a runner... So when her body was at rest, her mind was working, and vice versa. Rarely did both idle. On top of that, she confirmed knowing various powered individuals of both sides, and possibly their civilian identities as well.
But perhaps the most valuable attribute was her instinct to fight. And thus, she could be driven to action. If he could just ascertain that driving force...
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Posted: Tue Jul 23, 2013 11:35 pm
Micah didn’t register Alois’ compliment as such, and instead dutifully informed him, “I have my family here. Friends. And despite everything they have done, those living uniformed fighters are still my friends too. The ones in black and the ones in white.” It wasn’t a compliment. Not in her eyes. Alois was simply outlining her duties, as though he said she was extremely brave for going to culinary school because there were knives there! “I’m not brave, I’m an idiot. Someone smart would have run for the hills. But I’m a devoted idiot. And I fell in love with people here. Millie, a little girl I baby sit, I love her to death. Jett, my boxing instructor, he’s as much my brother as Misha is.” Her shrug dismissed the issue, but gave finality to her words. “Scotsman tremble before one thing, and that’s their ladies. And we fight harder and dirtier than the men.”
She betrayed the seriousness of her words with a smile, her nerves, at long last, stopping their cracking and sparking. Instead they finally lay down flat along her skin and hummed like they should have been this whole time. She smiled easily, though she did still wriggle. She shoulders jerked as she moved in her seat, excited about something she couldn’t quite pimpoint.
“I didn’t just pick up and move though. I was shipped off, but I always knew I was coming back. It was just a matter of time. You have come from across the sea, I think the historic name for Germany is… brother across the river, right? You set yourself up here; you and your family. Set up a business. That’s risk. That’s brave.”
She finished her own food and pushed the plate away, eager to talk about something less… shadowed.
“The pictures don’t do her justice. Scotland is… something you have to see in person. The streets ring with history, the walls whisper. Everything sings in druid tongues. And then there’s the very country that just… oh it sparkles.” As much as Micah claimed to love Destiny City – and she did. Most of it, anyway – she belonged back with her grandparents. “I worked in the stables in Scotland. My grandfather raised Shetland ponies. I mucked out the stalls and brushed them down. Ruby was a russet mare that I love the most. I used to sneak her apples when I could.”
And then she was rambling again. Micah fell silent again, gnawing on her lip and looking around. “Sorry. Sometimes I get a little excited. I just start talking and I don’t know when to quit. Normally people check out so I end up talking to myself… but you… haven’t checked out yet. At least not that I’ve noticed. Why is that?” Micah’s head inclined to the side on its own, mass of curls falling over the part to her shoulder. “No one ever listens to me.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 24, 2013 12:16 am
Her description of Scotland almost kindled some reaction in him. However, his body remained as dead as those who suffered at his hands. He couldn't identify with her discovery of friends and people she held dear, because he had none himself - that couldn't be rectified. Some people were destined to live solitary lives, and he resigned himself to that fate long ago. The person he sat across from now... While she may come close to scratching the surface with errant tales of lands far across the ocean, she had no hope of reaching any mutually beneficial friendship. He understood that. She didn't, that much was blatantly apparent, or she would've evicted him by now.
Unless she pitied him for his injuries. He would take pity if it meant gleaning names from her. However, the chances of that were nil.
And then she called him brave. What a stupid notion. What a pointless assertion. Obviously it wasn't his idea; how could it have been? She knew little of the real reason, but even based on the terribly dry iteration he spelled out to her, there was no legitimate instance of any strength or bravery on his part. He knew bullshit when he heard it. Either she sought to mock him for it or just return his words out of malice.
Alois considered raking his fork across his plate to illustrate his recognition of her motives. He considered lashing out at her with years' worth of mounting derision. He considered digging his fingers into his sutured wound until it opened again. If she wanted to cause pain, she had to learn how, right? The intention was clear. The delivery left something to be desired. He simply aimed to correct the problem. After all, he considered this a favor to her. Most people wanted to hurt him, most people strove for his anguish, so the fact that he assisted her even mildly must demonstrate some form of an olive branch to her. And if she missed that... Maybe it was best to just walk away from this arbitrary endeavor.
What possessed him to think this was a good idea? It amounted to nothing more than a waste of time, much like all of his strange ideas. His father constantly reminded him of such sad truths, and only now, after his passing, did Alois realize the validity of it. Though he fought the man for the majority of his life, antagonized him into silent (or violent) rage, he found it increasingly difficult to puzzle out life without him. Even the thought of it withered his mood into something listless and lost.
A pang of sadness took him by surprise. Whether it was due to his ruminations about his father, or Micah's winding and eloquent description of Scotland, he didn't know. All he recognized was that it hurt. He abandoned a life akin to this in a land he knew far better, with a tongue he grew up around. With people who weren't quite so terribly far from him. And for what? Mild direction offered by the Negaverse? A shot at a new life? A roof over his head? Even if it meant living on the streets, he belonged to Germany. He couldn't deny that. This place - Destiny City - couldn't become a home for him, only a grave.
And perhaps that was acceptable.
Her question called his attention, and with a measure of difficulty he pulled himself from his thoughts. "I don't know," he answered honestly. He could ruminate on that instead, but what was the point? "You haf' a certain eloquence when you speak. Somesing I didn't sink English had. It's such a... clumsy language. Ze fact zat you can manipulate it so well is enough, I guess." His tone lost its usual strength, but it would suffice. "Or would you prefer I never listen?"
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