Log:Forest Meeting
| Forest Meeting | |
|---|---|
| Participants | April 22nd, 2017 A heart-to-heart as Alex comes to terms with an entirely new world. |
| Location
The Woods, A Diner | |
| The intro to this log was lost. Alex came running down the path by which Darby was sitting, looking exhausted and rattled. Darby invited her to sit and started looking around for danger. Then the young track star got a good look at her for the first time and decided to peek at her aura while she caught her breath. Alex takes a series of short breaths, almost like she is hyperventilating in a ritualistic way. Then she takes a few more normal ones, though her breathing is loud and heavy a blatant contrast to the cool, silent depths of the woods surrounding them. Perspiration is streaming down the girl's face, illuminating her bronzed skin and glimmering in the faint light. Blue eyes are wide, slowly refocusing. She swallows, hard, and scrabbles blindly in her bag until she comes up with her water bottle. It's cold out. She splashes water in her face anyway. Blue eyes shift to Darby's face, scrutinizing the woman's features with a quiet intensity that somewhat belies the young runner's usual manner. Before she was avoiding meeting Darby's gaze. Now she is acting as if she is memorizing that face. Perhaps it is surprise at being invited to join her.. Perhaps it means something more. It is obvious her estimation of Darby has changed forever in the span of the last few moments. Alex, seated on the corner of Darby's blanket, wraps both of her slender arms around her knees and hugs them close against her chest, still breathing in deep, quiet gasps as she calms herself. "It's safe," Alex manages quietly after a second. She gestures vaguely with her left hand, lifting a hand a few inches from her knee to do so. She then reaches up further, dragging those fingers through her honeyed tresses, catching them in thick, wet curls and pulling them through. "We're safe. I wouldn't bring danger- I... wouldn't do that to you." It has the intimate finality of a promise rather than an a platitude.
It says something about some of what the unusual pair of women have in common that Alex realizes the invitation to join Darby, the almost-demanding tone for her to move to the blanket subtlety between Darby and a tree-trunk, the reminder the breathe and the scanning of the surrounding area despite Alex's assurance that she's not being literally chased is far beyond the typical. When the usual sounds of the woods that most take for granted along with her close scrutiny of the 'feel' of the woods and the space around them seem to settle Darby's hyper-alert and prepared for something, anything settle Darby into a demeanor that allows her to turn her attention back to Alex, she traces a measuring gaze over Alex, both for potential spooks on the edge while also taking in that new kind of observation, the more direct and significant look in the younger woman's eyes. Still there is, and most likely will almost always be, a part of her that keeps a regular survey of the surrounding space even as she is now addressing Alex. There is no rush now for words, so it's a bit after Alex has drunk deeply and begun to truly catch her breath that Darby speaks. "Stretch a bit so your muscles aren't as sore or cramping tonight and tomorrow." A general light statement, like a friend who is a doctor might suggest dealing with a migraine. It doesn't seem as though she'll criticize if Alex doesn't do so. For a time she offers up her profile rather than a direct return of that gaze before she says quietly, "What do you see?" Innocuous yet direct. With that simple question, she drops easily to a knee, the other tucked up against her chest - comfortable, yet ready to spring upward even now. She wouldn't bring danger? "Did you know I was here?" are the practical words, implying that she doesn't believe that Alex being here now is a function of bringing danger, whether intentionally or by accident. However, the 'I wouldn't do that to you' slides Darby's warm, brown gaze sidelong and steady to Alex, the further query plain to see but unspoken.
The water bottle is slowly set aside and then Alex takes another breath. This one is slower, less exacerbated, barely a whisper in the cool woods. Wind is sweeping past, tousling those blonde tresses and bringing the girl's temperature down as water and sweat evaporate from her face. She traces some kind of figure in the air with two of her fingers, wiggling and twisting in front of her. "I didn't know," Alex responds, shaking her head slowly. "I just- went this way. And here you were." That's not much help and she seems to know it, licking her pink lips as she considers how to phrase this statement next. When Darby's gaze finally returns to hers Alex tilts her head slightly, brows furrowing faintly as she does. Then the girl says, "You run, you hide, you fight, you die. Then again. It's a cycle, right?" A beat. "I wouldn't make you repeat it." There's some admission in there, a shy confession that isn't made clearly by how the young woman holds herself. Not the nervous gestures of fingers that emphasize quiet, starkly spoken words nor the way she twines a curl onto one of her digits. "Is it okay if I sit with you awhile longer?" In the background the song playing through Alex's earbuds is just ending. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsW1z9QThsA)
"What set you off?" Darby inquires,her tone low and familiar. The tracing of fingertips through the air earns Darby's attention as if there were some potential outcome that could result from the tracing or the shape itself. "Infinitely," she agrees to the pattern. "Though you seem to take the words more literally than most." Inquiry, still subtle. Challenge, but not rude. "There is a 'making me repeat it' borne of intention, and there is the inevitable repetition that cannot be avoided. The latter I will not hold against you. And if there is danger, it is better to seek out the rare few worthy of trust and the benefit of numbers. I hope, if you need escape, you will find someone there by fate or serendipity that dulls the danger of what pursues you." "I would prefer you not leave until your panic has lost its edge. But I hold no one against their will." Mostly true. And ringing of strong conviction. "Still, this time you leave several answers like fireflies in the air," Darby says, gesturing with a splay of fingers that leave her up-tipped knee to motion to the dusk-lit, magical air around them. "What set you running?" and "Why you watch me with different eyes tonight."
"I didn't just mean it literally," Alex finally begins in that near whisper she seems to favour with something is truly serious. "I don't want to make you feel threatened.Whether we're being chased by some kind of a monster or you're just haunted by wanting to, um, be alone." She shrugs her shoulders slowly at this, tilting her heads lightly as she does so. Finally, Alex nods her head once, tilting it slightly to the left as she does so. "I see... Well, you," she repeats, though the words are laden with hidden meaning as the woman gestures to Darby a couple times with her right hand. "The real you. It's, um... Well, you know. I think I understand what you were running from before." That is stated flatly, with little room for disruption. "And I'm terrified. I know someone who is, um, like you. But she doesn't run. She wants to fight. And I want to help her but as soon as I left I..." Alex shrugs her shoulders and then lets them fall all the way, until she almost seems even smaller for it. Then she cocks her head as she considers something else. "She told me I probably shouldn't tell anyone. I was going to listen to her too."
The initial statement is simply one of someone working through what they are feeling and thinking. Darby is patient enough, quiet enough that Alex does come around to it eventually. "You haven't threatened me." Or made her feel threatened. Not yet. Darby doesn't let her assumptions run too deep. But it is a rare statement to begin with, even superficially. The real you. Darby's eyes sharpen at those words, a hint of comprehension there to see for someone who is truly able to See and not simply testing the waters for reaction. "What do you understand?" This question seems integral to Darby, in regard to what she may have been running from before. "You are doing well," she asides. "It is a delicate balance between keeping promised secrets and suggesting new sight." A Winter Court member values the ability to keep from blabbing everything one knows more than just about anyone else. "You see the Real in me, but you prefer to stay. That isn't common." From those who don't have predatory instincts, that is. Then Darby listens regarding the 'friend'. "Did your friend have good reason to 'show you'?" Something about enchanting another and then leaving them to navigate those waters alone, doesn't sit will with Darby, and a hint of that displeasure can be read in the furrow of her chestnut brows. She dips her chin in invitation for Alex to continue 'as soon as I left ...'. She was right. There are penalties for your friend should you tell most others; and there are dangers to you, much worse dangers, should you let the wrong sorts know what it is that you truly see." Who would have thought that Darby might step into the role of mentor? The confluence of circumstances are critical.
"She explained to me about, um, being taken. And where. And how dangerous it is for me to share this with people who aren't directly involved, how it could get me hurt. I'm allowed to tell others like her if I think it's wise, that was part of the, um, 'agreement', but she wanted to wait until she introduced me. I'm not a very good listener tonight, I guess." Alex rolls her shoulders again, tilting her head slightly as she does so and slowly nodding. "Yeah, she told me that. Penalties for her that are probably way worse than the penalties are for me if I betray her. She didn't share that but but I'm guessing. It's a pretty big deal." With that out of the way Alex splays her fingers along her leg and takes another deep breath. This is less measured, hinting more of deep thought than being psychosomatically starved for air. "As soon as I left," the woman continues, picking up on the subtle cue. "I went for a run to clear my head. That's what I was doing now. It's a lot.. .A lot to take in. I almost didn't tell you either. But I can, um, tell you aren't going to hurt me." A lot of confidence for Alex to place in a veritable stranger, perhaps. "We see a lot of things the same way. I thought you'd get what I'm up to. So..." A few beats follow and then Alex finishes with, "It's a lot of pressure to put on you all at once like this but there are only two people I know would get it I actually trust."
Your 'friend' did not share enough with you for your caution to be beneficial. Even those who are 'like' her can be very dangerous. There are many of them, playing a role on behalf of the ... Abductors. And then there are the Abductors themselves. Until your 'friend' educates you further, it is better to expect the worst than to trust on instinct." Even Darby? Regardless, there's an edge of protectiveness to Darby's words that may or may not be noticed. If I had chosen to 'open your eyes', at least the first time, and until I had sufficiently educated you, I would keep you with me, runner or no." Darby looks away, affording the dim light of the woods the larger measure of her displeasure. "You should not be alone." Then she adds, for the sake of this 'friend', "Even with me, you are in danger according to the larger agreements. I have not made Promises to the local ... Organization because I am still new here and have not met and been vetted by those who are in such positions." "When will you next see your friend? Did she tell you how long you would see the world this way?" Darby finally looks back to Alex and rolls forward to rest on what was the up-tipped knee, leaning closer so Alex can see her in the dimming light, though doing so without invading her personal space.
Alex shakes her head slowly at that, though there's a rueful smile just working its way across the edges of her lips. She shrugs then and spreads her hands as if to say 'what can you do' before she continues to speak. "You're not a danger to me. I don't know about her people... But you're the only one I know I would tell." that is stated flatly, without a lot of emphasis. It's obvious by Alex's expression that there is more she wants to say to Darby, perhaps to expound upon this or put the woman at ease, but judging by the furrow of Alex's brow and her faint frown it's possible even she doesn't actually know what that might be. Finally, the blonde settles for taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. She shifts a hair closer as well. Personal space is left, but only just, close enough for it to seem intimate between the two of them. Because they are people who keep others beyond arm's length. "You have to trust me when I said I was cautious. Or not, I mean. But I wouldn't have stopped normally." Of course, there is always the implication then. That Darby isn't normal but in Alex's case this is apparently okay? Even good. the young, blue-eyed athlete finishes summing up with, "I see her tomorrow. Every day even. And I have her phone number. I just needed time to process it all. Anyway... I'm here now." With you.
A deliciously little laugh that somehow manages to be dark as well escapes Darby's lips at the mention of clawing walls. "Clawing walls is my specialty," she agrees in some fashion. "I don't have to trust you, which is, in the end, a good thing," Darby replies in a heavy response that somehow is meant to lighten the mood. "I do not like the thought of you continuing on your own, running, filled with terror or phantom predators. Tell me how this state of being changes how and what you run from and perhaps I can help." The implied option being not to tell her. "Running helps me process," Darby replies, as if complimenting the choice if not the still-perceived danger. A slow dip of her chin indicates her awareness and approval of Alex being here. Now. "Tell me, if you wish: I cannot see myself how you saw me before today. What differences do you see?"
"Physically? The tattoos are different. You're... Sleeker somehow... Strong. Noble. You were always watching before bu that feels like a part of you now, like you were made to do it... Or forced. It's a different vibe. The second I saw you I knew why you were running. I think I did anyway. And that was part of why I decided to stop." Alex makes this statement earnestly, even as she is adjusting herself by tugging on her legs once more where they are pressed against her chest. She bends forward a bit and tilts her head, shifting her weight a bit on the blanket as she does. Nervous tics, perhaps. She might be cold. It's not really something that is easy to tell at this distance. "I'm not terrified exactly. I just- I run like that when I have things to work out. I run until I get lost in my head. And then I have to - you know, thing... Walk a tight rope- make my thoughts fit with- everything else. That's when I get all worked up. Normally no one ever sees me like that, but umm..." She shrugs her shoulders again in that limp, almost conciliatory way. "I have a lot of things to run from but these days they are all in my head. I guess if yu really want to know I'll tell... But you need to share with me too. Okay? You don't need to run from me. I don't need to run from you. That's the deal. I don't mean you have to stop protecting yourself, but... If you need someone to talk to." Alex's gaze is guarded as she shifts her eyes upward once more to study Darby's face, see her response to the young woman's words. She adds softly, "If you don't want me to be alone we should, um, consider where to go next. Have you had dinner?"
Darby notices the flush even in this light, but potential reasons for it are entirely beyond her, the verdict ending up in her head somewhere connected to introversion. "You are perceptive, yourself," she replies. "In your own way." This after the comparison. There is a strange line between Darby's instincts to 'save' or protect from significant harm and her somewhat lacking instincts to be a caretaker. Sometimes they merge, but more often she's mostly about the former. So what most would see as a chill, she allows to simply be what it is. It could seem a bit heartless to some. There are some secrets that can't be told with words. There are still others that take patience and time that few possess this century." (This century?!) "I am a confidante who has earned the trust of a few who have no others. I will neither demand you share your secrets with me, nor --" After tonight, being implied. "--will I give away or sell them." The caveats largely involve risks to other Lost. "I am quiet company, but when I listen, I hear." Finally, she gets to her point, a hint of the peppermint hot chocolate she had been drinking on the edge of a sweet breath of her words. To clarify: "I do not share readily or often. But when I do, you will know it for the weight it holds." No promises about how much or when. As for moving from the woods, Darby seems to have lost track of this not being so welcoming a location for others. She thinks of the fleabag efficiency, by-the-week motel where she's currently residing. She thinks of the small amount of money she has. "Where would you like to go?" The thought of going somewhere in someone else's company is both disturbing and faintly intriguing. She's certainly not offering her own current residence.
Finally, Alex climbs to her feet. She pauses for a second and then offers Darby her hand as she does, looking down at her past the veil of curled tresses which have, thanks to water and sweat, begun to hang low rather than expand upward and out in their chaotic way. At this distance Alex smells of many things. Clean sweat, strawberries, and the forest itself with a bare hint of antiperspirant. "Well. We could start with a, you know, a... Um. Place. With food. Or something. Because to be honest I skipped dinner and after running that far I'm ready to eat something if you are." That is accompanied by a bright small, almost incandescent in the now almost nonexistent light of dusk settling fully into night. The trees obscure most of the moonlight. Alex has already eaten up the last of Darby's reading time, it appears. "Or anywhere you want to go at all. I'll follow your lead."
Alex's shift in demeanor is like a sweet breeze on a Summer day and Darby breathes it in, even go so far as to place a surprisingly cool hand into Alex's offered palm, rising without much of a tug on the other woman for assistance. She makes short work of gathering her blanket, book, pillow and empty cup and pushing them into her shoulder bag which she slings over one shoulder easily enough. "I honestly haven't eaten out much since getting to town. Would you care to suggest a place?" Certainly she can spring for a side salad and skip 'breakfast' in the morning in lieu of a protein bar. There is, especially in this mien, the hint of her late 1940s etiquette, polite yet friendly behavior, and a few choices of words and phrases now and again. Darby releases Alex's hand without pause after she rises and tucks some windblown strands of her chestnut hair behind an ear.
"Sure. Do you like hamburgers?" There's a thoughtful frown now working its way over Alex's lips before she adds, "...Are you a- um... Well. You know. DO you prefer not to eat meat?" She narrows her gaze slightly at that, as if trying to judge something for herself. "I know a good place either way. I'll get you something to thank you for, you know. talking me down. And we can see what we want to do after." If Darby intends to stick to not leaving Alex alone they are just beginning their time together, after all, and it seems Alex is quite cognizant of that fact. Once Darby is prepared she starts down the path at a brisk walk. And wordlessly offers her hand again.
Darby's efficiency, her economy of motion gives Alex little time to have her silent, inner debate. "I'm not a vegetarian," she answers. "But I'm pretty picky about meat I eat." She offers one of those delicious but fleeting smiles that the dusk magic-hour light steals the most of. "Honestly Alex, I can't really afford much. But that's okay. I don't have a huge appetite. And I don't think you need to buy me anything. It will be good for me to spend some time that's not work having conversation with someone whose thoughts I find interesting." Which part of that is rare? The social time or the rarity of interesting enough companions? "As far as gratitude, I prefer it not have a price: it's more Real that way, I think." That could come off as preachy, condescending, or even rude: the question is whether Alex will hear it the way Darby meant it. The pair of the cross the meadow, avoid the swampy from recent rainwater portions, cross some fallen logs and avoid some places to turn an ankle before they get back to the well-kept path. Then, Darby walks companionably enough alongside Alex, matching the younger woman's stride with her own. When they reach the parking area, she's prepared to keep walking if Alex has no car there - given the running. She certainly doesn't.
Then Alex is weaving through the meadows and across the broken patches of ground and logs as if she were born to run on rough ground. her feet are nimble and she has no trouble traversing unusual obstacles- by jumping over broken stumps as often as going around things. Eventually the pair take to the path and pass the parking lot without Alex so much as even looking up. She just adjusts her bag and keeps moving. It's been assumed that Darby doesn't have a car out here. Alex doesn't, at least. By and large Alex seems content to watch her surroundings and move with Darby in companionable silence until there is a need to break it. It will probably be late before they get into town if they intend on walking. Alex has picked out a diner not too far into Fort Brunsett for the two of them to take their evening meal at. It's open late which is the first selling point given how quickly time seems to be slipping away from them.
There's something intimate, companionable, liberating about the rhythm of two people walking along side by side without frenetic conversation or, worse, meaningless small talk. If Alex's aura skills are still in play, she can feel a rare ease settle over Darby's shoulders. The stated conclusion that Alex is going to buy -both- of them food earns the inch or two shorter woman a sidelong, lingering look from Darby, as if she might measure visually what 'deal' is agreed to if she agrees to this, or what fringe-requirements hang on the threads of the statement. What follows is a brief flicker of concern: can Alex truly afford it? And then, although Darby never shrugs (Finishing School described it as coarse and rude), there is a tangible acceptance that is not accompanied by words. The walking in silence, if anything becomes more companionable for Darby as Alex allows the lack of conversation to widen. As they stroll into the diner's parking lot, in the beams of neon and signage from other nearby spots, if perceptive Alex will get a glimpse of an almost conspiratorial up-tipped smile on the other woman's features. "Have you eaten here before?" A man gets out of his car after barking something at a woman remaining inside and Darby literally nudges Alex aside with the side of her own body, away from the man's path inside to pick up something to carry out. It's not that Alex couldn't construe that Darby thinks she's unable to protect herself; but the reasoning is entirely different. With dark eyes full of animosity and practiced restraint of potentially violent acts, Darby waits until he has passed by, his stale beer-scented body shoving past them while he mutters abusive commentary under his breath about women in general. Like a cloud of fireflies, several dozen tiny sprites twinkle past them, little musical laughter and conversation faint as they use the evening breeze and their wings to float past. An enormous man stands beside his car across the parking lot with what looks like six burgers atop the hood of his pick-up. The man is well over seven feet tall, and his skin looks craggy ... stone-like?
There's the barest hint of a gasp when Alex notes the man's look, one of pointed understanding. She waits patiently as the sprites are going past, eyes glued to their path through the air, but it doesn't change the fact that the enormous granite hewn Lost ahead of them is her primary focus. Never look directly at someone when you shadow them. It's a lesson she's taken to heart. "I've eaten here a bunch of times. When I go out and run too late or something," Alex responds quietly, slowly turning mostly with her eyes to glance toward the door. She indicates it with a cant of her head and then carefully shifts in that direction to direct them both. The man is at his truck. The path is clear. "Nothing very fancy but the food is always good and it's pretty- you know, it's... Well, it doesn't cost a lot," Alex offers in a companionable way, lips lightly pursed while she does. Alex tugs the door open for her companion and holds it for a second. the sign in the moderately well-lit lobby area says 'Seat Yourself', 'Please Wait For a Server' written on the side facing the the old, tiered counter where the register resides. It's a pretty normal diner really, the booths upholstered in red and the tables most likely pine varnished to look like more expensive wood. Menus are already out. It's to one of these booths, away from any groups of people who might suddenly appear to populate the late night diner, that Alex is leading Darby. A good view of the whole restaurant and outside, with clear avenues of escape either toward the fire exit or the front door. A young Latino man with neatly combed black hair nods at them from his post near the kitchen and collects his notebook. He'll be over to take orders in a second.
Ironically, the Ogre is the one who would have come to their aid had the abusive drunk man who left the woman he was with in the car accosted the pair in any way. But the fiery eyes of the giant standing by his truck and swallowing each burger in two bites or less aren't any less intimidating. Darby steps back, giving Alex her space once more and turning her gaze sidelong to the Ogre. A look is exchanged of some sort, though the meaning isn't clear to someone so new to seeing Lost interact. And a fire-hewn stone-skin isn't going to look anything other than menacing in the best of moods unless you are a personal friend or very, very accustomed to such individuals. When Alex holds the door open, Darby by both long-standing training and simple companionable togetherness, steps inside, breathing in the scent reminiscent of diners everywhere (unless this diner is focused on a particular cuisine). There is a very faint sound of her stomach gurgling in response. There's a quiet sound from behind Alex as she leads Darby to a well-chosen booth. It's laughter! As melodic and brief as her smiles, but nonetheless! "Do you read minds, Alex?" she inquires in what might be described as a capricious tone, mostly due to the sparkle to her brown eyes. She takes a seat, mirroring what Alex does. She may have been back to the world just over a year, but shifting from how things work in 1947 to 2017 is an ongoing work in process. She picks up the menu, thumb and fingertip tracing along the faintly sticky edge. "What do you usually order here?" In a booth on the far side of the place is a group of four young men. Two are dressed in variations of black on black, one is more gaunt than the other, but the second speaks in a sibilant sort of tone that somehow slithers across the space to accost the ears disturbingly if not loudly. One is wearing the newest fashions seen in magazines and is beyond spectacular to behold (Fairest), and the fourth seems to have some wires and antennae, electronics of various sorts all embedded into his skin. Of course, Darby takes it all in, including various doors, entrances, exits, and those present. But the world is truly a different sort of place for Alex. The Fairest watches Alex with eyes that shift from silvery to purple to some iridescent combination of colors, a cool but intrigued expression on his haughty but worthy-of-staring features. The one with the 'built in' electronics /may/ be heard murmuring, "Oh, I like -that- one." Darby is not the one garnering the attention. Though with any Lost who see Darby with what appears to be a mortal, the intrigue tends to be what sort of purpose there is to the interaction, and if there is by any chance a plaything up for grabs. Darby didn't mention that Lost can also 'feed'. It's not her place, but she's given enough warning and she's in Alex's company for now. Her bag stowed beside her in the booth, Darby reads over the menu thoughtfully, perhaps looking a little like someone at a French restaurant who only took a year of French in high school.
The murmurs have Alex flushing faintly, unused to the level of raw praise being somewhat ambiguously directed her way. The direction of their gazes is much less difficult to interpret." Shaking her head slowly so that curls bounce to frame her movements the college student returns her gaze to the table in front of her. "Read minds? Not quite," she answers somewhat vaguely. "But I think we like the same tables." That draws a soft laugh from Alex in turn and now she is finally looking at the menu. "I like getting their sample plate. It's listed as an appetizer but you kind of get to try everything and it's a whole bunch of food kind of cheap." Alex points at it with her left index finger while she braces her head against her right hand, elbow to the table, fingers now laced into her unruly curls. "Mozzarella sticks, chicken strips, jalapeno poppers, onion rings," she offers, shrugging. "The burgers are great too. Blue cheese and bacon? Yum. Do you like spicy things?" Alex does her best to ignore the murmurs now. She's quite aware of how her appearance attracts attention- or at least part of why, so it's easiest for her to attempt to brush it all away. This isn't too unusual and yet she still isn't accustomed to dealing with it. Apparently. "We can share and see what you like? If you have no idea, I mean. Split a sampler thing and then a burger if we're still hungry."
After glancing a the price of the sampler, Darby swallows and inwardly threatens her stomach for betraying her again. "I like to nibble," she agrees, despite the price of the appetizer. The woman is used to living on very little, whether food or other things that require monetary purchase. To the appetizer she seems to agree, liking the idea of sharing. "I'll have a small salad, too if that's not too much." Spicy things? "I haven't had them much. Do -you- like spicy things?" She tries the ultimate introverted strategy of volley the question back the other direction, while genuinely interested. She glances to the quartet of Lost 'boys' and arches a brow. Some of the more overt conversation about Alex fades, but one or another of them, especially the two not clad in black typically are glancing her way when she looks. From the table across the space, a path of green clover grows, little flowers blossoming here and there along the way. A ladybug, even a butterfly. It stops right next to Alex's side of the booth. The Fairest holds a daffodil between two perfect fingers and brushes it against his lips, should Alex be intrigued enough to glance over at the somewhat overt invitation (and test to see what she can and cannot see). Darby adds, "I would like a chocolate milkshake!" when she sees the familiar item on the menu. She glances to the 'green carpet' then quells an amused expression. "You've got the attention of two of them, to be certain. You'll be very popular with the 'locals' if things continue. She's careful how and what she says due to some abilities to hear what most wouldn't.
-> >> Alex to Here << <-==============================================Rolled 2 Successes < 2 2 4 6 6 8 8 > ===================-> >> Wits + Empathy.Auras + 1 - 3 No Flags << <-"I love spicy food," Alex admits with a somewhat sheepish grin. "More than everyone else, apparently." With that pronouncement she nods a couple times more. "Of course a salad isn't too much. And we'll share stuff too." She tilts her head slightly, glancing Darby over briefly as she does. The outright refusal of the Lost's stomach to cooperate with the small deception draws a bright, more amused smile from Alex. Everything is fine. At least until the flowers blossom and butterflies appear. This draws the girl's gaze, tracking the motion until her eyes find the flower that the Fairest is holding to his lips. She watches this gesture, browsfurrowing delicately while she studies the man's form intently. She's too new to this to relaize he's just trapped her into revealing she is ensorcelled. Still Alex isn't entirely a lost babe in the woods. "I guess we'll find out if you like spicy stuff then," the girl muses as she lifts a hand to signal their water. This sort of meaningless interaction is easy. Alex handles ordering for both of them with a practiced ease and ends by ordering a coca-cola for herself. The pair has a good ten minutes before food will actually arrive.
Looking at the aura of a Lost is a bit like watching television with flashing lights when one has epilepsy. It's not simple, nor is it easy. Swirling motives and 'emotions' surround the Fairest. Desire. Restlessness. Interest. An edge of danger. The thrill of the chase. This is no suitor intending to call upon her with flowers day after day. Somehow the measurement earns her a glimpse at electro-Lost as well. If anything, the stronger interest is from him. There is a hint of expectation of disappointment, of being accustomed either in the Fairest's company to not receiving attention, or simple experience of attraction not coming easily to those with his particular features. But the intelligence and creativity in him is far brighter than that of the Fairest. Only the faintest hint from the less tall and gaunt of the two Darklings suggests, androgynous with short cropped dark hair tipped in silver is actually female and hesitant to let the three companions know that she, too, is quite interested in Alex. They all watch to see what Alex's reaction to the strong-Spring mantle 'invitation' will or will not elicit. "Would you like an introduction?" Darby asks very quietly. "I'll try what you like," Darby agrees. "They know now," she adds, once Alex stares. "But so long as you're with me --" At least partly true. "-- it's unlikely they'll try anything out of line. The pretty one? His talent can be almost like hypnotism ... that you really enjoy if you are what he wants. But they have the attention spans of gnats unless you keep them from what they want. Though that can be a can of worms on its own. The two in black, they vary wildly, but 'dark' describes them well. They tend between nightmare and goth, with other idiosyncratic types in between. And the fourth -- he's the interesting one, if you ask me. I wouldn't be surprised if he's the brains. Could be he's with the others for a variety of reasons, but his type often are underestimated." She watches Alex as she describes the foursome, for her own part either not guessed at the androgynous woman, or not thought to wonder about it. "Do you know why your 'friend' offered you the experience?" Words careful again, a warning of sorts.
Resting her left palm against the table Alex splays her fingertips out along the edge and draws slwo, deep breath. She presses her weight back slightly against the booth while she waits, her attention either on Darby, something against the far wall, everything, or nothing. Blue eyes are slightly out of focus while the woman takes her moment to think on what she learned just by examining the four Lost nearby. Eventually the food does arrive, faster than expected, and Alex takes the large tray of appetizers first. She sips at her drink carefully and eyes the large, hand breaded chicken strips, jalapeno poppers, and other odds and ends she'd ordered. All of it very fattening and deep fried. The salad looks quite tame by comparison, though the lettuce is fresh and there's cheese and dressing on the side. "These ones are my favourite," Alex starts, reaching out to snake one of the poppers from the tray. She takes a bite from it then, partially melted cream cheese oozing from the the treat where her teeth broke apart the jalapeno inside. Alex at least chews and swallows before continuing. "Take whatever you like." The other Lost get another glance but no further words are spoken on the matter.
What Darby does not do is lean her arms or elbows on the table, nor rest her back against the comfortable (ish) booth. Her posture is practiced yet with a grace that suggest it is by habit rather than personal reminder. She shrugs out of her jacket, folding it inside out to keep it as clean as possible - looks to be a treasured item to her, and not likely one she could afford, even as a very lucky find at a second-hand store. She sets it on the booth bench beside her next to her bag and folds her hands in her lap, a sketched glance around the diner and the space beyond the windows, doors, exits, other rooms in a way Alex has got to be getting used to, before asking Alex. "Did you grow up h ere? Would you be willing to tell me about your li--" Food arrives and Darby's eyes widen as she takes it all in. So much. There's a little smile to accompany Alex's response to the food, only then asking, "Do you date men or women, or both, or ..." Nothing says sexism or coming of age in the 1940s like that sort of awkwardly worded and timed question. Whatever sampler item Alex tries first, Darby does the same. So, a popper. Tentative, but not looking trepidation, she bites into one, the almost-crunch of the jalapeno contrasted with the soft warmth of the cream-cheese soothing the gentle heat and fried outside. She grabs a napkin and wipes at her lips with a little sound of amusement, chewing and swallowing. "I've never tasted anything like that." No words until after she's swallowed. "I like it." She pops the rest into her mouth and neatly chews, a pleased expression painting her amiable features, soften by the relaxation of scouting the immediate area. Her chocolate milkshake arrives and she all but extols the waiter's every virtue. She takes a drink and ends up with whipped cream on her nose and a comedic look of bliss. Note: Way to make Darby very happy = chocolate milkshake.
The young sprinter begins to calm down soon enough, taking a couple deep breaths and then reaching to take a mozzarella stick. Hot, gooey cheese hangs from the end in long strands after she's bitten it in half, and then Alex is quick to finish those off as well. She watches with wry amusement as Darby buries herself into the milkshake. At least for the moment any embarrassment has been lost. After a moment Alex asks, "So... You? If you, um, date who would you be dating?" There's a veiled curiosity behind those blue eyes. If nothing else Alex certainly feels as if the question is very fair under the circumstances. It doesn't stop her from continue to make the food disappear at at fairly rapid pace. "Are you, you know. Seeing anyone?"
For now, Darby doesn't get the Cliff's Notes of Alex's growing up. Instead there is fun finger food that she eats one piece of for every new type that Alex tries. After those are tasted and enjoyed, she turns her attention to the salad, a bit of oil and vinegar and delicate bites every now and again, ever forgetting to dab her lips with the napkin, or to finish chewing and swallowing before speaking. She realizes she has whipped cream on her nose and murmurs, "...for heaven's sake..." She could or should be someone's great grandmother. Instead the topic is romantic interests, so she listens, offering no apparent distaste or offense at the response. "I've met several women who prefer women to men," she replies. And by 'met' she likely means the few people she's allowed in enough to discuss such matters or anything beyond superficial greetings, really. Not a large number. "It seems like the vernacular is always different, though." She holds up her fork in dismayed confusion. "Have you dated anyone seriously?" So far in her life, that is. Moving on: Darby dating? The look on her face is priceless. "Oh no. I don't date." It seems like such a simple answer until she looks at it from Alex's point of view, and given the questions she asked the young woman. A sudden look of appalled awareness colors her fair cheeks in a wash and she sets down her fork and napkin. "Alex.." she begins, but has to spend some time searching for the right words.
Alex can hardly help seeing Darby's aura right now, the familiar flow of colour and sensation imparting information about what is going on in the changeling's mind while they converse. She idly gestures in the air with a cheese stick while this happens, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I've never dated anyone seriously," the blonde answers then, checking the subject somewhat forcibly back to the most recent question."Just a little stuff here or there, I guess."
Darby doesn't recognize the sardonic nature of the repetition of the various write-offs Alex lists. She abandons her milkshake as she tries to figure out why Alex would be dismissing -her- as if she'd asked. The emulation of an 'older' voice is a hint and she arches a brow. "Do you mean to say you think I believe those things, Alex?" she inquires directly. Gals who share poppers together share sincerity as well. "The only type I have, Alex, is the type who takes pleasure in killing me day after day, tracking, hunting, torturing and creating new ways to inflict pain. And you could say I have no interest in more of that." She leans forward without resting an arm on the table, the chestnut hair not tucked behind her ear swinging forward as she holds Alex's gaze. "I -haven't- dated. It's too risky. And as for men, women, and the many other options that seem available these days, I'll admit that before I was Taken, my romantic notions all involved men. There really wasn't much allowed as options then." A warm expression. "Has all this -- is it about hoping for something more complex than this? Please don't say what you think I want to hear. Too many games over too many decades make me very much want to honor you as you have honored me."
Emotion-wise, Darby's complex aura reveals concern, melancholy, an expectation for this all to have been a misunderstanding. Somewhere between realism tinted by the repeated fatalistic conclusion she's experienced over the course of a very long lifetime. There is some inwardly turned irritation with her own ignorance of modern interaction, and an almost aching sadness that a first potential friend could turn out to be nothing of the sort, even possibly hurt because of her own mis-steps. It's true that there is appreciation of Alex's lovely spirit and appearance, but absolutely no physical interest. Even the foursome across the room receives none of that. A deep enough ability to measure desire or hope for the thrill or pleasure of a sensual pursuit finds no opening even for the potential. With anyone. She's being as blunt, as honest as she gets.
"Look," Alex continues, firmly shaking her head as she does so. "I don't know what anything is right now but we just met. I was just mimicking your questions back at you. We definitely don't know each other well enough to force something like that." She takes a deep breath as the indignation fades and sheepishly turns her gaze downward toward the table in front of her. Alex reaches for her coke and takes a long draught, finishing the glass. With an audible sigh of contentment with her drink, Alex looks up again. Blue eyes soften as she continues gently with, "...I just- um. Thought we'd..." This time there is no chance of her finding the words.
She returns to 'has all this been': "I was trying to ask if I had missed an underlying, commonly agreed 'dance'. If I had said words that led you to believe I was courting you." Strangely the aura projects sadness, something that could be more intense emotion, a fatalistic hope.
Then Alex gives in to impulse. She leans over the table to wrap her arms tightly around the Lost's shoulders and bury her head against her chest. there's nothing untoward there, no fingers slipping out of place or other overtures. She murmurs as she does so, "We're all a little broken. You don't need to be fixed. Neither do I. I'm just glad you're here."
It all begins with relatively predictable words and behavior. The bland tone. Then the studying, the dish moving. Darby's excellent posture straightens. Ought she predict a physical confrontation? The table cleared between them, Darby watches Alex stretch across the surface as if it were slow motion. And then the personal space line is beyond crossed. Tight arms around her neck, but no strangling. Aside from the scents of the diner food, so close Darby is scented inarguably of the forest and wild places, her mantle making it feel as though surrounding that huge is a temperature differential of -20 degrees, body warmth far more significant. It's the side of Alex's face pressed against her chest that helps Darby conclude this is an embrace, and simply understandable in its motive which is incredibly reassuring. Slowly, tentatively, Darby lifts her hands, and grazes fingertips over Alex's upper arms, slowly sliding behind her shoulders and playing across the back of her shirt-blouse, playing over the surface there as if following a melody rather than remaining still. "You continue to break all the rules I have learned since my return. And in this moment, I am glad." A soft brush of lips to the other woman's temple. That close, against Darby's chest, there might be a glimpse of that gory tattoo lower on her chest.
After a long moment Alex does finally respond. She simply says, "There are no rules, really. There are just ways we think we ought to do things and ways we completely blow that otu of the water. Like right niw. I'm not going to stay back from you just because we're both the sort who don't really get close." Alex gives a slow shrug at that, and only now is she releasing Darby from her arms. She settles back into her seat and then looks to the plates of food. "I guess that means we're, you know. That one thing. Opposite of enemies or something." She groans quietly to herself. Why forget an important term now, of all times? | |
