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 Posted: Mon Oct 16, 2017 11:49 pm
Quote: It’s fall and pumpkin spice is everywhere. A local coffee shop has some great new recipes and there’s been a lot of buzz about it—only, if you’ve indulged you may find yourself with some unusual side effects. Due to some very defective pumpkins (and who knows what else), pumpkin spice lovers are suffering from nausea, vomiting and—perhaps worst of all—your skin has turned orange on top of it all. Thankfully the discoloration and illness seems to wear off within a few hours, but you probably shouldn’t go back for a second cup.
"Number thirty-two," rang out the booming voice. Elex winced at his delivery.
Wordlessly he stepped up to the counter, his mind still on the conversation half-had with his brother. The drink felt too hot against sensitive, new flesh. Hadn't most coffees and teas felt lukewarm before? It didn't matter; he had what he came for. Erol gave him his lead, despite the continual pinging of his cell phone with more questions from the older Yorke, and he had a relatively safe bet in hand for a drink. Elex opted for a London Fog himself; the ballet theater was a half hour's walk away and he didn't want to spend that time soiling his breath with coffee products. He had enough to think about with the too-tight skin stretched over his knuckles and joints and bones.
Three hours felt crushingly short.
xxx
"Look," black braids shook about her face as the box office attendant shot him a withering stare. "I dunno who you are. I ain't never seen you before. Now you ain't getting in there to see are dancers just because you asked, OK? Do you have any idea what would happen if we let just any damn Joe Schmoe walk in 'cuz he asked?" With her elbow cutting against her booth surface, the attendant dared him to speak further. "Well? Do you?"
And Elex did. He opened his mouth, thought better of his response, and continued on a different vein. Slim arms came to rest on the outer ledge of the booth as he spoke in quieter tones. "Would Franklin help jog your memory?"
"Who the hell is that? I dunno no Franklins."
Elex loosed a slow breath. This is getting me nowhere. I can't bribe her if she doesn't pick up on the hints. Retiring the drinks, Elex pulled a pen and one of the recycled paper flyers laid out for customers. On the back of the lurid pink paper, he scrawled a short message in meticulous penmanship. "Fine. Give Rowan Cameron this message for me." He slipped the paper beneath the glass slat and pushed away from the countertop before conversation could continue. Already someone else took his place at the booth with expectations of fast service. Elex excused himself with his drinks.
The attendant grumbled to herself, deeply nonplussed. "Give him a message. Do I look like the goddamn postal service?" She flipped the card over in hand and chartreuse-tipped fingers threatened to smudge the ink. "'Meet me by the fountain. E. Yorke.' E. Yorke? That name don't mean s**t to me. Sure, he'll get your message. If it doesn't find its way into the damn garbage first. E. Yorke…" The attendant blew a raspberry while her back faced the customer. Turning, she forced a smile and resumed her canned greeting with tickets in hand.
Elex placed little hope in the message itself, however; from where he sat against the concrete fountain, he found a perfect view of the theater's back doors.kolina experiment failed; this start is all over the place rofl
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 2:38 pm
The holiday season was right around the corner. Halloween was almost upon them and soon ghosts and ghouls would be replaced by turkeys then very swiftly fall to tinsel, garland and twinkling red and green lights. It was, to be frank, one of Rowan’s favorites times of the year. There was just something about it, and being a part of the yearly holiday production of ‘The Nutcracker’ put an extra beat into his step -- even after an exhausting rehearsal.
Since his attack a few nights ago, Rowan had opted to head home immediately after rehearsals. There was just something about what happened that put him on edge. Of course, he had been highly disconcerted by the odd lethargy that had overcome him, but what kept flashing in his mind was that look he had received and the quirk of the mouth. Like a half-amused smile, perhaps? Something else? Whatever it had been, Rowan couldn’t shake the image from his memory, and each time it decided to play on repeat, like an old broken record, he tried to find something new. Something different that would give him a clue as to what that had been about. Each time he could remember nothing of significance.
Even though he knew he was going straight home, vanity pushed the teen to dawn more than just a pair of sweats and hoodie like many of the other dancers. Instead he opted for a loose fitting jean that would easily slide over tights, a black button down, and his leather jacket. His hair, he let out and pulled into a low ponytail considering the strands were in desperate need of cleansing after the sweat he had worked up. His small bag was slung over his shoulder as he meandered his way to the exit, eyes fixated on his phone as he checked for any missed calls or messages.
Slipping out the back entrance, Rowan glanced up from his phone to make sure he wasn’t running into anyone. The stage door slammed behind him, the glow of his phone screen lit up his face as golden eyes roved the street. Some people milled around, couples out for a date, people heading home from a late night at work, a boy sat on the fountain across the way seemingly waiting for a friend, or perhaps a date of his own. The evening felt normal.
Rowan began walking towards the location of the fountain, his car was parked just down the street. He didn’t tend to park in the theatre parking lot for fear some idiot would dinge up the vehicle. Instead, he opted for a parking garage just down the road where he tended to have no issue finding a spot near the top level. Very few bothered to park there when easier and much closer spots could be found on the lower levels. strickenized I don't think it was all over the place! It worked!
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 3:26 pm
Minutes passed — minutes he couldn't afford wasting on fountain edges and cooling drinks. Elex tapped his foot restlessly, shifted about, played with his-not-his hands. He looked at the pinks of his nail beds, the whites of his nails. He looked beyond himself, to the shape of the box office cutting a stark silhouette into the sky, to the slow advent of stars puncturing twilight. Ever-present was the burble at his back, the rushing water acting as a grounding agent only when Elex wished to be tethered —
The door opened. Light flickered in morse code from its anorexic slat. A man emerged, all leather and baggy jeans. All self-assurance. All shoulders and legs. All awareness with his phone shining cold, white light onto his features. You weren't so vigilant last time, were you?
The man cast no attention toward the fountain. His gait remained purposeful, wary, powerful. Rowan shed no confidence into Faustite's stained hands with the draining. For this, Elex could garner some appreciation. Too often, people bit down on their hardships. Chewed them away under teeth too dull to banish them. Choked them in a sea of spit and tears, left them in a pit of darkness. Too often these strifes accumulated under fingernails, in the dark wells of eyes, in words birthed and died before they could leave the tongue. But Rowan retained a part of himself — perhaps all of himself. Rowan moved past that grievous pair of minutes with a certain grace,
just as he brushed past Elex without a second thought. The teen shot up in a second, searched for the drinks at his side, thought better of jogging with espresso, and pursued the shrinking figure.
"Rowan!" He called, perhaps too soft, perhaps too loud. "Wait." He himself slowed as jogging was a sordid affair, a prediction of harried character and poor time management, and instead stopped to right his clothes and too long hair. He breathed the last strips from a short fatigue. "I heard what happened to you. I want to talk about it."
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 3:50 pm
He had almost missed the boy calling to him. In fact, it took a few moments for his brain to register that yes indeed he had heard his name. It wasn’t the most common of names to hear shouted around on the streets of Destiny City, after all. So, as he realized someone was calling him he immediately stopped. Perhaps he had forgotten something and a fellow dancer was calling him? No, anything he might have left behind could wait until tomorrow, surely. Still, his expectation was to see one of the other male dancers, perhaps Renard, chasing after him, but as he turned he found the boy from the fountain moving towards him as he called out a wait.
Who the hell is he? He wondered as that suspicion of familiarity hit him again. Eyes squinted ever so slightly as he tried to summon up old memories. It was just right….there…
"I heard what happened to you. I want to talk about it."
“Who are you?” His voice held a note of curiosity in the easy baritone register. Turning fully, squaring himself off, he adjusted the location of his bag on his shoulder with a quick jostle of his body. A hand held onto the strap as he eyed the other boy. Chin length dark hair, likely black, and dark eyes stood out on pale skin. His clothes were...well, while not unkempt certainly not up to Rowan’s standard of presentability, but he was also aware that not many people were as careful with their appearance as he was.
“How could you have heard about my little ‘mishap’? I only spoke words with the police.” Unless of course, the other teen had been related or in contact with one of the patrons of the tea establishment it had occurred. Of course, what were the odds? Well, considering that he was a regular at that tea house perhaps not so odd? He liked to think he had a reputation at the house.
Maybe one of his fans?
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 4:23 pm
Unsteadiness struck him thereon; Elex had no master plan for carrying this conversation. He wove his tales as he went, banking ever more on a lack of comprehension for the twilit world surrounding this one. Would he know of youma? Of agents? Of dark mirrors and white moons and knighthoods? Could he sense in Elex's too-tight skin and too-white eyes that he wore a mask more garish and profane than those surrounding them? Elex held fast to his doubts, swathed himself in them. He would drive an impeccable story — a tale too tight for Rowan to question.
"Do you remember Erol Yorke? I'm his brother, Elex." He swallowed, thrust thin hands into coat pockets. Standing contrapposto bolstered him.
Do you remember me? I doubt it; I was too young to make an impression on anyone. Always clinging to my brother's shadow. Always looking for a reason to stay inside. To watch the crowd. Spectatorship bought me no quarter, not from this. It cost me more humanity than I had to learn that lesson.
There's always a little more innocence left to lose.
"I know one of the waitresses there." A hand slipped from pocket, and in turning, he beckoned Rowan's attendance. "She gave me the story. Secondhand, thirdhand, it doesn't matter. Hearsay holds more weight here than police reports and journalism papers. Word of mouth is older than the stones beneath our feet. I trust what she said." Is it too much a burden to ask you to believe me? Did I jade you that night, when I chipped away at a part of your life? You learned from it well enough. Why stare at your cell phone when the whole world is lined with teeth.
Just what would you walk into?
"And what she said was worth hearing."
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 4:48 pm
It was like a thick veil had been pulled away from memories that teased him so. Names snapped into focus childhood occurrences like the crack of a bullwhip. How young had he been the last time he’d seen the Yorke brothers? 14? Younger? Time was a slippery mistress who tended to get away from those not paying her much attention. Still, the youngest Yorke brother, the quieter and more fragile in appearance of the two had certainly grown well despite his still petite frame. Then again, perhaps his memories were incorrect of the boy. After all, how often had he actually spoken to Erol’s younger brother? Elex had always seemed to cling to his mother’s skirts like a frightened fawn. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever having a conversation with the younger teen.
Still, the years in passing had been kind to the boy. Even that unkempt hair, wavy and growing was an interesting look. I am sure it’ll look lovely once grown out. he mused to himself before snapping his focus back to the conversation at hand.
“Well that explains it. I had hoped my tip that night would have kept the waitresses quiet, but I suppose that was wishful thinking.” He sighed. “As old as the word of mouth is we all know how the game of telephone works. I had best hear what she told you. I can only imagine the sort of tale that was spun for you. The last thing I need is some outlandish tale being passed around anymore than it has already.”
He slipped his cellphone into a front pocket of his pants. “Did you have somewhere in mind to chat? Preferably somewhere I can get something warm and caffeinated? If I am going to be out longer than I anticipated I’ll need something to keep me moving. Tonight’s rehearsal was a bit on the long side.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 5:50 pm
Elex declined getting pedagogic with Rowan. He knew well enough how money fared without consequence attached. If not, he learned it now — just like he learned to watch his surroundings when he wandered. "The story's a straightforward one."
Elex led the other youth toward the fountain, where upon its stony ledge sat two prepared drinks. Each boasted a lght spray from the water feature. He seized the cup marked PSL and offered it out toward Rowan. LF remained in his grip, cradled in thin, interlaced fingers. He sipped it with his gaze trained on the other man. "I don't know these parts very well. It's been a long time since I came out here." Where might allow the pair to linger? The lobby of a movie theatre? The opera house where their parents were both surely patrons? "I assume you have a car. We can talk there."
A car. As if I'll ever have a license. But what use is a vehicle with this power?
"It won't take long." It can't.
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 6:28 pm
“Well you certainly thought ahead.” Rowan said as he took the proffered drink. He wiped the lid off with a hand and noted the PSL on the side. The sweet scent of coffee and pumpkin swelled from the container when he lifted the small plastic lid. “Pumpkin spice, hm? Not a bad choice for the season. A fairly safe one, too.” He offered Elex a grin, pleased to note that the cup was still warm. In fact, it may be the perfect sipping temperature.
At the mention of his car, Rowan raised a brow. “That’s fine with me.” Surely there were more interesting spots to relax, but Rowan wasn’t going to picky. Especially if Elex wanted this meeting to be short.
“I am not too far from here. Come on.” He gestured with the hand that held his newly acquired drink and led the way to the parking garage he had initially been heading for.
Along the walk, Rowan made sure to walk beside Elex. His taller frame allowed him to surreptitiously glance down without being seen. At least that was what he assumed. As they walked he tried to piece more memories together from their childhood. Surely there had been more times that they had interacted? But, nothing came to mind. There were very few instances that Rowan could remember interacting with the boy let alone speaking to him. Seems like a shame, actually. He was only a few years younger than us. But, that was the games of children. Those who were older didn’t want to tend to those who were younger.
“So the drinks. You got them from that cafe that recently opened, right?” He questioned as he glanced at the label that was printed on the paper sleeve of his cup. “I’ve heard that their new pumpkin flavored items are the talk of the town right now.” Rowan was delightfully pleased by Elex’s choice in cafes. In fact, as if to punctuate his pleasure, he carefully sipped at his drink and found, as he surmised, the liquid was just past the point of being liquid fire and was delightfully sippable.
Their journey to the parking garage led them down a block where Rowan led Elex to a well maintained, if slightly out dated elevator. A thumb pressed level 5 and the doors slid shut in front of them. It was a comfortably silent ride, at least in Rowan’s case as he shifted the bag on his shoulder to fish out his keys with one hand. By the time the door slid back open, the purple-haired teen was pushing a button on his key fob and one of the 8 or so cars lit up and honked. “Sorry it’s such a walk. I prefer to keep it in a less crowded place. The parking lot at the theatre can get a bit hectic and I hardly trust anyone not to do something to her.”
The silver Fiat Spider sat with it’s roof up. The colder evenings dictated Rowan not have the rooftop down. Another press of a button at the tell-tale sound of the car unlocking echoed through the parking lot at the duo approached. “Just hop on in. I’ll be right there.” He rounded the back of the two person vehicle and popped the trunk. Tossing in his bag he carefully but solidly closed the trunk before walking to the driver's’ side door and slipping into the vehicle. He wasted no time starting the ignition and adjusting the heat.
“Alright.” He said as he reclined in his seat, his pumpkin spice coffee held firmly in hand. The leather seat squeaked ever so gently against his leather jacket. “Tell me what you heard. I doubt it’s anything as fantastical as you might have been told.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 8:07 pm
Elex kept silent at the compliment. He followed Rowan's motions, slipping into an unfamiliar gait with the taller man. He kept stride as he could, though shifts in direction not telegraphed left them sometimes splitting apart or coming too close together. At each time, Elex caught a heady cologne — lemon, possibly frankincense. Others he couldn't name. Beyond that, clean skin. Shampoo. Conditioner. Perhaps an aftershave. The thousand scents layered atop one another in an interlaced complexity that defined one Rowan Cameron. Elex kept his eyes trained on the horizon.
Elex sipped his drink where he could, when parking garage slopes no longer begged him up or down. They joined in an elevator. He watched Rowan in the polished glass, traced the bleary contours of his face in stainless steel. The ride was too short. The doors opened, beckoning them out. Lavender, he thought with a twitch in the corner of his mouth.
He kept pace to the car, which flashed its morse code among a scattering of its peers. Elex found an easy path to its passenger side, and entered when bidden. Leather interior provided a cool cushion, but Elex sported no bare skin to taste its discomforts. He kept hands wrapped around his drink, ever careful of spillage in a car that smelled of its own manufacturing. He saw no baubles and accessories decorating its dash, its rear-view mirror. A glance up found no dried palms woven into lucky charms. A new car, then — one too recently received to decorate, or too hallowed to pull down with personality. Elex wagered the former. No part of Rowan Cameron spoke of self-deprecation. He took another sip of his drink.
Bergamot, he decided.
Rowan joined him then, and Elex felt the car shift in his favor. He looked — and felt — like he weighed more than Erol. Unsurprising, perhaps; the Yorke boys inherited a ravenous metabolism, and no penchant for heavy exercise. Ballet. Do you dream of your own Odette?
"It isn't much." He glanced to the cars about them, to the dying sun burning itself out on too-polished windows. "She said something attacked you. Held a hand on your throat. She said it stood there for a while, looking down at you, then disappeared. That there were pipes on its back. Is it true?" He looked to Rowan then, black eyes lit with inquisitiveness, a brow delicately cocked in daring question.
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 9:43 pm
Rowan half laughed half sighed as Elex described what Rowan himself had described to the police. Of course, to save face, he phrased it as if what he saw was some costume. A ‘Halloween costume for some punk’ had been his exact phrase of words, but he had known better. Somehow, he knew that what he had faced that night wasn’t some kid in a costume out to cause trouble. How could he think that when the abnormal warmth from the hand at his throat felt so real. The eyes. That fleeting quirk of a mouth.
He took another swig of his coffee. It was cooled to the point that there was no fear of being burned.
Another swig.
“Well for once it sounds like the story was actually kept true to life.” Reaching up he pulled damp hair from it’s holder, letting it fall around his face to dry. Tucking the right side, the side closest to Elex, behind an ear he turned to look at him. “It was likely just some kid causing trouble. Out to try and get some money by mugging someone.” He kept to his story. Kept to keeping face. After all, Elex Yorke was not a person that Rowan could say he knew well. “I won’t argue that there were pipes. I am pretty sure I caught sight of those when he turned to leave.”
How old is Elex now? I can’t remember the age difference between him and Erol. Studying the teens face didn’t give much indication. Pale features, a face clean shaven or perhaps incapable of growing anything besides stubble, his frame was what threw Rowan off. The boy was on the smaller side, but not unnaturally so. Two? Three years difference between us? It can’t be more. His eyes though. They spoke of of a soul that was much older than what he looked.
“All I can tell you was that whoever it was must have had some sort of temperature, wore full black eye contacts, and somehow or another was spewing smoke from his bike. Probably from those pipes you mentioned.
“Truthfully it was a very odd, experience. I can’t figure out what the guy wanted. There were no words said, no attempt at my wallet, though that’s what I assume they wanted.” He shook his head and shrugged. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
He paused. “Why does this interest you? I highly doubt a mugging is the most interesting story you’ve heard. Especially in this city.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 17, 2017 10:25 pm
Elex scoffed, angling an egasperated stare at Rowan. "No one keeps their wallet around their throat." Narrow feet pressed against the floor mats, pushing himself up in his seat. He clutched his drink a margin tighter, with tendons standing out against thin wrists. He took advantage of tea dregs in a long draw. "Muggings happen in alleyways. In dark streets on polluted evenings. Muggings happen with knives and guns and desperation. What happened to you wasn't desperation, Rowan." His gaze met the dash, searching for the time, then leapt to the cars far in the distance.
Patchouli? No. He frowned against his better interests.
Elex rolled the taste of vanilla through his mouth as he contemplated Rowan's next words. So that's how he saw Faustite? All Halloween garb and pretense? Maybe that fantasy suited him. Elex remembered moving to the city and looking for monsters — hunting for fantasies out of street corners, basketball hoops, parking lots. Erol disparaged him for it. Called him childish and whimsical. But that tune soured over time, then dropped altogether. Erol knew what youma were now, even if he never told Elex. He didn't need to — the evidence was there in inexplicable bruises, in sudden bouts of exhaustion. Revelation lay in the way his gaze often fixed on the horizon.
Perhaps, then, Rowan was guarding his thoughts. He and Elex knew little of each other beyond a handful of shared experiences, back when Elex was far younger and silent. Now, seated next to him, with heat coiling into his skin and soothing the perpetual chill, with drinks distributed among them, there still existed a vast gap in their shared knowledge of each other. Rowan was only a reach across a console, but he and Elex both manned their respective ivory towers.
Not cedar, but dusty. Like resin, but dark. I can't place it.
Elex roused from his thoughts when Rowan finished his speculation. "It wasn't a mugging," Elex reiterated with mild irritability. He straightened in his seat, set aside his drink momentarily, and stripped off the wool coat guarding him from autumn's reach. Beneath he wore a turtleneck, ribbed, with a striped monochrome scarf encircling his neck. He felt a little freer with the shell stripped away. "That's why it's interesting." He looked to Rowan at once, his gaze heavy with insight. Excitement welled in a frame too delicate to contain it. "Because it isn't a mugging. You've heard of them, haven't you? All the strange happenings that coat this city like a pall. Twilight brings them. Night nurtures them. Stories of monsters and men. Of the preternatural and the supernatural. These are what interest me. Not…" He paused, loosed a quiet, bitter laugh. "Stories of the Townsends mutually cheating on each other. Not speculation over whether the Quinton boy is doing methamphetamine or cocaine.
"These are the stories that give this city life."
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Posted: Wed Oct 18, 2017 4:05 pm
Not desperate? How can you be so sure? He mused as he sat back in his seat, eyes shifting to the view of the parking garage just outside the front window. Absently he sipped at his drink, mind wandering back to that night. Again it replayed as it always had. The same distinction of a warm hand on his throat, eerie blacked out eyes, the squeeze…Maybe he is right.
A voice pulled him from his thoughts just before the car shifted ever so slightly. As he turned his attention back to his company he found Elex ridding himself of the the coat he had been wearing. Without realizing, Rowan watched as arms were pulled out of the garment revealing the turtleneck and scarf. The ribbing allowed the sweater to cling more closely to the body, emphasising Elex’s petite, but well balanced frame. That look suits him.
Rowan, himself, realized that his care was beginning to get uncomfortably warm. Perhaps the heat was beginning to make him feel a bit ill? What else would explain his stomach quietly flipped on itself? Rowan reached forward to lower the temperature and strength of the heat emitting from the vents. The white noise of the heater, which Rowan hadn’t much noticed before, lessened to the point of near silence.
The silence didn’t last.
Brows furrowed as he listened to Elex’s reaction, his gaze having returned back to the parking lot view. The dark haired teen seemed almost irritated that Rowan was continuing on with the mugging hypothesis. It was the easiest answer to what transpired that night. He had no real interest in going down the route of speculation into monsters and those who haunted the streets of Destiny City like lost souls in search of their purpose. The more he told his story, the more he wanted to believe it. The last thing the dancer wanted, or needed, was to be pulled into whatever the hell it was that created the city’s reputation.
Again his stomach protested. Perhaps it was still too warm? Placing his drink down in a cup holder he proceeded to remove his own jacket. Underneath the slim fitting button down, which had three buttons left open, revealed his black leotard peaking out from underneath underneath. To the untrained eye it could easily pass as an undershirt.
Turning in his seat, Rowan leaned his shoulder against the back of the leather seat, eyes studying the other boy. “You sound like you’re just itching to hear me say that it was one of these ‘monsters’ you’re aching to see. As if I am some sort of connection between these crazy stories we hear and you being able to find them.” Golden eyes roved over Elex’s face. He tried to make sense of what it was Elex wanted. Was this all some sort of trick? A way to undermine Rowan and make him sound the idiot?
No. No if that was the case, Elex wouldn’t have gone on about his belief in the news stories and rumors that circulated. That excitement that practically radiated from his companion couldn’t be insincere. There was far too much genuine emotion to it. Elex really believed that these beings stalked the night.
And his enthusiasm and curiosity was beginning to rub off on Rowan. How could it not? Especially, despite all of his attempts to convince himself of his mugging story, he couldn’t convince himself completely that what occurred hadn’t been what Elex was so certain of.
Shaking his head, and wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth Rowan sighed. “I suppose monsters and beings stalking the night are certainly more interesting than the Quinton boy. After all, he’s not the first nor the last to experiment with narcotics.”
Again, Rowan let golden eyes bore into Elex’s dark ones. He’s absolutely serious. He really believes all of this.
“It was…” He paused a moment, collecting his words. “A bizarre feeling. His hand on my throat. It was like all the energy and stamina I had was leaving my body.” His voice was calm, quiet. An ominous acceptance of what had happened to him that evening and an acknowledgment to what Elex seemed so keen to hear.
“Why me, though? Was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time or was there more to it? And why just…leave?”
Another flip of his stomach. Nausea rose and he winced slightly at the sudden turn.
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Posted: Wed Oct 18, 2017 10:40 pm
"Wasn't it?" Elex challenged back, his gaze trained on Rowan. Wasn't it one of those monsters? Or is this really how people living in Destiny City rationalize the unexplained? I know what happened to you. I know what happened to you more than you do. He traced eyes, and nose, and lips, the curvature of his ear, the way purple hair welled up behind it and cascaded over in its own slow rebellion. The way his skin curdled so suddenly —
Elex's gaze softened at once. Concern unknit his brows. He looked away, expecting a trick of the mind. His foot moved restlessly against the carpet, drumming out a too-tight rhythm for their restless conversation. "You don't have to believe me." You can keep dreaming the way my brother dreamed — affluence affords you that right — and I couldn't stop you. Some people don't want to wake from the spell. For others, it would kill them. It would hollow out their lives to know that science was wrong. That the biology and the chemistry and the physics that informs our everyday culture turned out so tragically flawed. Are you one of those people, Rowan Cameron? Do you depend on equations and theories and proofs and dancing and caricatures to carry you away from the truth?
Maybe you are. Maybe I was wrong about you.
He licked dry lips. "My brother told me I was being ridiculous, too." Elex loosed a slow sigh through his nose, and his head craned back against the seat. He looked to the stretch of fabric overhead, the crincles betraying its convertible use. Could a story show wear like that, even if it's the truth? Am I just treading water?
And for what, bergamot and lemon and lavender? I am being ridiculous.
Elex pulled a lapse of seconds out of proportion. He twisted them out to minutes in his own mind, the discomfort building under his own skin (his two skins, his layers and layers and layers) until the lot of it felt too tight. Until he couldn't contain his own perturbation and continue the charade. An hour passed at best, and yet he felt as though his reality might burst from him in a moment. Embarrassment proved ever a strange grapple for the Yorke boy, even as he knew his own veracity. Or was it embarrassment? The feeling proved too illusive and undermining for him to discern a proper word. Perhaps there wasn't one for its vicious nuance.
The admission caught his attention. He stated symptoms endemic only to energy draining, only to a feeling experienced under the control of an officer, and recognized them for what they were. He wasn't wrong — all the energy and stamina ebbed from his body, flowed into Faustite's brittle hand — but was that an admission or a concession? Was he playing to a restless teen's dreams of a bitter world?
Elex was growing flustered. He looked to Rowan again, despite self-admonishment. He searched gold, peered for answers. "I don't kn— are you alright?" He couldn't disbelieve now. Orange pallor coated the man under his sheen of sweat. He looked like the victims of the carrot diet from some years back; he still recalled Ms. Margot with her vehemently orange hands looking all the more obvious against a pleasant white ballgown. "You look unwell."
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Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 8:50 am
He had barely noticed the perspiration that glazzed his skin with a dewy complexion. His attention had been more focused on the rumbling and rolling of his stomach that seemed determined to make him feel as if he had ridden that god-awful pirate ship ride at an amusement park. How old was I when I was last on that ride? Or even at an amusement park? He couldn’t remember, and really it held no real priority as nausea rose once again.
Tried as he might to keep his face neutral, after all he prided himself on looking well put together, there was no mistaking that he must have revealed his plight. How ill must I look? The concerned look in Elex’s eyes was enough to worry Rowan. Surely an upset stomach wouldn’t bring about such a concerned reaction from someone he knew so little?
“I am fine.” He murmured. Admitting to the weakness was not something Rowan was willing to do.
The heat of the vehicle was getting to be too much. Reaching down he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began rolling up his sleeve. He stopped in horror at the tinge that marred his once perfect skin. Golden eyes flicked up from his arm to Elex. Is this what had prompted the sudden concern? Did his face look like Cinderella’s pumpkin!?
The sudden acceleration of his heart created a reaction in the teen’s stomach as blood rushed at a quicker pace through his body. The need to expel his stomach contents could not override Rowan’s utter disgust of desecrating his car. In a made dash, as he scrambled and hastily threw open his car door, Rowan could no longer hold back the inevitable. Just as he managed to get a single foot out of the door, the tell-tale sound of liquid hitting the parking garage ground could be heard.
One heave. Another. Rowan gasped in air as he attempted to keep his hair, clothes and car from being saturated during his stomachs exorcism.
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Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2017 11:44 am
Keep trying to salvage your appearance. Maybe I'll start to believe you if you lie enough. Despite his better intentions, Elex's gaze shot to Rowan and trained like a sniper's sight. Was he half-youma? Elex knew of no disappearances circulating about Rowan; he never once indicated his unease about a long conversation. He still owned a car, went to ballet recitals, stopped for drinks at leisure — no, Rowan spent too much idle time to qualify for it. Elex pinched his three short hours together with such vehemence; Rowan would be one to do the same, wouldn't he?
The orange color to his skin, the vomiting — where had he seen such symptoms? Was it food poisoning? The drinks obtained seemed so innocuous, and Elex hadn't suffered such symptoms. Warily he leaned overto where the drink sat in its coaster. A light sniff confirmed no noticeable abnormalities. He leaned back and watched the figure retch, perplexed.
Anxiety chewed away at his restraint. Inaction called to power his bitter half. The clockwork doll that was Elex Yorke fell perfectly into a role wrenched from him. Idleness cursed him. Somewhere in his coat, his pocketwatch ticked down needful, heavy seconds. Rowan retched and retched and retched. Lemon and lavender coiled around the scent of bile. Of putrid pumpkin.
"No you're not," he said at last. Elex threw open the door and stepped out into the autumn chill, bereft of his jacket, of his confidence, of his security. He rounded the car where his reflection warped and stared back at him. He approached Rowan, his mess, the messy strings of his hair caught and pulled down by perspiration. If this has something to do with that coffee… Elex swallowed. Bergamot drowned by bile. Frankincense laced with sweat and car exhaust and stomach acid, burning away the cloying scent. Elex held his breath.
He stepped in where unbidden, and in reaching around the bent shoulders, he gathered up Rowan's tousled hair. The strands felt too warm and marred with sweat. Vomit spatter on his shoes mattered a little less.
"Smile," he offered, at risk of sounding ridiculous. "If you smile, you don't vomit."
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