Log:Crazypants
| Crazypants | |
|---|---|
| Participants | 14 August 2017 Cian visits Cressida while she is on the lam and she shares with him some of her 'ideas'... |
| Location
Crumbling Hovel | |
| Cian took his time trekking through the woods. Jeans and a hoodie, his Chucks make little sound as he ventures off. The Contracts he knows help guide him. It takes him quite a trek to get out to the woods, it's lonely and quiet out here. It means the Darkling is comfortable, the overhang of trees means he is in shade and the soft sounds of nature aren't enough to make him flinch. Eventually he finds himself in a lovely clearing, and feeling the ping of the Four Directions tug him to this spot. No backwards, no over there, he does a near five pointed star in the clearing before he finally comes to a scuffed stop, rather confused and dumbfounded. "Well, shit," he whispers.
This place is strange. There are hints that someone lives here, artifacts of 'human' existence, but there's no actual abode. It would be a mystery for a mortal but Cian, being a Changeling, likely can guess that there is glamour at work. An entrance is here, somewhere, hidden from view. But where? Is it that tree? That rock? Maybe that mossy rise? There's no telling where the door might be and it would take a long time to feel his way over the possibilities. Siiiigh. Cats are all over the place: lounging about, hunting, climbing. You know, doing all the things that cats do. A big, fat ginger with a little nubbin of a tail wanders forward though, making a beeline for the Darkling. It takes a seat at the man's feet and peers up at him, watching him with golden eyes. After a moment? "Meeeeeooooow..."
Cian is, thankfully, a cat person. Or well, someone that cats tend to choose - because he's quiet, and will make eye contact and then look away. Which he does with a few of them as he cautiously inspects a tree trunk, that rock. Poke, prod. The thief is looking for a way in now, because he doesn't care about personal boundaries or property. Everything that's yours is mine. There's a few more minutes before there's a sudden Meow. That gets his attention. Turning to look at the cat he smiles a little and crouches down, "Hey little fella," he whispers to the feline, offering his hand, "You know where my friend is? Cressida's around here somewhere," he looks about again, hoping to find the flighty galaxy gal.
That little nubbin flicks back and forth, back and forth -- it's a slow, lazy thing, not a quick, irritated action -- as the cat continues to observe Cian. When he offers his hand, the kitty sniffs it. Licks it. Bites it. Not hard, mind you! Just a little exploratory nip. And then a few more licks. Is he just talking to a cat? Or does the feline understand what he's saying? Getting up, the ginger starts to wander off. Is he showing the Darkling the way?! Weeeeeeeeell. He takes his sweet time and he walks back the way Cian came for a bit. Is he .. is he checking the path? Gosh, it looks like he is. At one point, he scampers up a tree to get a better view. Swish-swish-swish goes that tail. All-clear! Hopping down, he wanders back to Cian, looks up at him and meows at him once -- ONCE! -- as if to say 'follow me', and starts to lead him back to the clearing.
Cian flinches a little bit at the lick, the bite also gets a wince and he shakes his finger a little bit. Hard or not, those teeth are sharp! Yeah he talks to rats too. Pretty much anything that will listen to his whisper while he's alone. If the cat understands or not, the man is looking at it puzzled. The saunter away has him kind of trailing after and then deciding that the cat is uninterested in helping. So he pokes another tree-stump like he's looking for the Pit of Despair. The cat returns and he blinks once as it Meows at him rather pointedly. "Oh, alright?" he whispers some and moves along after the thing in a slow amble, curious and cautious.
The ginger plunks itself down in front of the hill and looks back at Cian one last time and then .. something changes. It's like it goes from understanding him to being .. just a cat. It sticks up one of its hind legs and immediately starts licking its junk. Uh .. thanks buddy? Just when Cian might feel like that was a whole lot of pointlessness, a sliver appears in the hillside and a glowing face appears there. Cressida! "Hurry, hurry," she says, gesturing for him to come in to .. what? This hole in the ground? But it's not a hole in the ground; it's more like a door that can't really be seen. She holds it open and beckons him inside, while looking past him over his shoulder. "I'm on the lam!" is explained. Which, really, creates more questions than provides answers.
All you have have to do to get the Thief to move fast? Is tell him you're on the Lam. Boom! Cian is all motion and sudden and decisive action. The cat that was cleaning itself gets plucked up, because SAVE THE KITTY INSTINCTS! He literally slips right on by her, and maybe under her arm as he hustles into her abode. It's not quite a tackle, but he's certainly dragging her inside with him so that the door can shut behind them and they are safe. The kitty he picked up is held out at arm's length and he offers it to Cressida with a smile, "Hey you," he whispers to her.
The thief is inside. The star is inside. The cat is inside. Everyone inside? Yup? Okay, the door is closed and the clearing goes back to being just a clearing. The forest is still and quiet. Within the hovel, it's a bit crowded. It's not a large space so two people filling it /fills/ it, yanno? Cressida laughs when Cian hands her the ginger; she accepts the cat, smooches it atop its big, dumb head and then places it on a ratty looking chair that she's somehow managed to drag in here. "How did you find me?" she asks, wandering over toward the stove. There is no electricity in here but between her natural glow and the crystals catching her illumination, this place is rather twinkly. It's warm, perhaps uncomfortably so, because she has a little fire going. For reasons, though! Sticking a kettle atop the stove, she asks her guest: "Tea?" Isn't she going to explain?! Why she's on the /lam/?! Jeez louise, woman.
Cian is a little wide eyed at first, checking out the inside of the hovel slowly. He itches at his side with his fingers that cramp and crimp some in place. With two people taking up this much space, it is good that the normally shy Darkling is comfortable with the Death Star. A shy smile finds her as she twinkles and the crystals mean his eyes squint just a little in the face of all those lights. Uncomfortable warmth means the first thing he does is peel off his sweatshirt, the wifebeater underneath. The translucent skin of the Wisp is on display, a hazy shape behind him showing what's on the other side. Too-long fingers still fidget. "Tea please," he agrees with a smile before shrugging a bit, "The Wyrd led me. I...hope that's okay?" he whispers in the intimate setting, "Kinda haven't seen you in a while." He missed her but he won't say that!
"I've been a bit busy," she says with a strange sort of laugh and a somewhat wild gleam in her eye, responding to his statement that he hasn't seen her in a while. Cressida pushes a hand through her hair -- well, it being the uncombed mass that it is, the gesture is less 'through' and more 'against'; the multi-colored locks move en-masse back over her shoulder and several stars slip free from their confines to fall fading to the floor. "The kettle should whistle soon," she says, wiggling past him and climbing over a stool to get to a 'shelf' dug into the wall. Oh Cian. There is... So. Much. STUFF. Here. His fingers must be itching, stretching and reaching of their own accord for any number of strange knick-knacks she's collected this in this strange little hovel. And what an odd place to live; it's not a very ...'human' home. No, this place reflects just have far she's slipped from normal society. Just how freely she races toward her faeness with open arms. She needs help, most likely. Someone to pull her back, to keep her from hurtling herself over that edge. Grabbing a tin, she opens it and draws out two teabags before grabbing a couple of mismatched teacups. "And no, I don't mind. But don't tell anyone where I live. It's a secret."
Cian's fingers are not idle, that is for sure. When they brushed by one another, there was a brief glance of those digits against her side, her hip, and then gone again having found nothing to pluck. Instead one slides over a knicknack shelf, taking something there, rather in the open at that. He stares a little at the message this delivers, but he knows the Pantheon, they are all batshit crazy in some manner or another. And frightening in ways that are incomprehensible at times. Cian is hardly the hero type, or even the dark brooding goth that gives a damn. He's just a thief. What does he know about dragging fae back from the edges of insanity? "I won't tell a soul, your secrets can be safe with me. Heck, I'd put Wyrd on it for you," he tells her. Drifting around to find a place to either lean or squat that isn't her bedding, he watches the hippie chick with just a little bit of star gazing involved. "I'm glad I found you though, no one should have to go on the lam alone," says a man that knows that feeling. He smiles a little and inches closer, trying to see if tea is done or if he can help.
The front part of this .. home? Abode? Hovel? ..conforms the most to human expectations of a living space. There are chairs. A little table. Even a tattered old rug on the ground. It's here that Cressida beckons him to sit, to make himself comfortable. Did she bring these things here? Or were these things already present when she found this place? It is very clear that she is squatting; there is no way that anyone knows she's here or that she is paying rent. The further back one gets (not that there is far to go), the more this place becomes some kind of animal's den. No furniture, no delicate things. Just textiles and furs and leathers; earthen pots and bunches of dried herbs; shriveled up paws and bleached skulls. You know, all the things a girl needs. And this place is filled with smells. The rich smell of dirt. The skunky scent of weed. The exotic aroma of incense. The stale musk of body odor. This is her place. This is her den. Welcome. She twinkles here but her shine is low, mellow. Sedate, even. Away from town, away from the vibrating stimuli of people, places and things, she is more at peace -- although no less dangerous. The kettle starts to whistle after a time and she climbs back over Cian to get to it, grabbing the dull copper thing by the handle and pouring them each a mug. "I have no cream," she says. "But I have honey if you'd like some."
Not that anyone would know to come out here and knock on her door to begin with. The only reason he found her was by using the Wyrd. Tracking her down like a supernatural stalker oughta. The earthiness of the place is comforting, as is the fact that they're deep in a hole underground. No sunlight, no people, this is...actually really nice. Cressida is witness to Cian being as relaxed as he's ever been in front of someone. The hoodied blonde just sort of slumping into a seat and streeetching out until he's languidly reclining in the indicated seat. He doesn't even shift when she climbs over him, instead she feels his fingers as they nudge along her mid-thighs, her hips, her waist, searching for anything to be sticky about. When tea returns, he smiles lazily up at her, "As is, is fine," he says in that quiet whisper. In here? He doesn't have to strain, and the full soothing purr that is Cian's voice can be heard. Those expressively pitch black eyes watch like twin black holes attempting to find a place in her galaxy. "Thank you," he finally says while she pours. "When's the last time you did something human like, lovely? Read a book, or watched a movie or something?"
"I.." Her mouth hangs open for a moment and then she closes it, tipping her head to the side as she thinks for a moment. Lower lip is nibbled on, the starstuff beneath the surface moving about and making her mouth seem glittery briefly. "I did laundry that one night. That was a pretty human thing to do." Cressida smiles faintly and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. Is she worried? Apparently not. Flopping down into a chair opposite Cian, she stretches out her legs and props up her dirty feet on a little crate next to where he's sitting. Her filthy little piggies are just to the side of his elbow; hope he's not bothered by feet or less than stellar hygiene. "Do you do a lot of human things?" she asks, curious over sips of tea. After a few moments, she admits: "I have stopped reading books. I just .. cannot relate to the things they worry about any longer for the most part. Their lives are very short and they spend their time focused on the wrong things typically."
Cian blinks slowly and his eyebrows lift a little, letting vanta-black eyes focus sharply on the stargirl. "Laundry is pretty normal," he whispers with a smile. No of course she isn't worried, but there might be a nervous Thief that doesn't want to lose one of the first friends he's made! The stretch of her legs is witnessed and the Wisp just smiles. He's usually clean, but the kid likes crawling around in sewers and eating rotten fruit. So when her dirty, scrubby ass feet drop down beside him, he simply reaches over and takes them into his lap. Cressida finds out just how surprisingly strong those digits can be as they start to move and spasm around the arches and heels of her feet. It's basically a massage, his fingers explore, running over the skin and brushing off the dirt while rubbing into the skin and muscle. All the while he is looking at her and he shrugs. "I make sure to read a book a month, go on at least three dates, buy a few things from a store, see a movie or a show," he goes quiet for a moment and hums in thought. "That," he pauses and looks a little concerned, "that's not the point, Cress," he exhales on the next breath, it still reaches her ears. "Just like getting out took remembering here, staying out takes the same." He sips his tea and sets it down gently. "What do you think are the important things?
When Cian starts rubbing her feet, she smiles and closes her eyes. Cressida brightens a bit, her light the cool twinkle of night as the celestial bodies around her increase and expand outward. Her toes spread and stretch; although she might be a little ticklish, it's mostly a good thing, what he's doing. "You sound like my husband," she says with a dreamy sort of drawl. "He was always getting me to do stuff like that -- books and movies and magazines and restaurants. He even had me living in a house for a while." A house! Can you imagine? She opens her eyes again and looks at the Darkling thoughtfully. "Don't you think it's odd how we don't belong anywhere? How we have to work so hard to exist here?" The star is going somewhere with this but she's ambling there, taking her time.
Cian is pretty decent at an accidental footrub. But he has to blink and stare at her for a second, "Wait, you're married?!" He's blinking rapidly at her and then shaking his head, "Right okay, of course you are, but like, what?" he is so blown away by that, like, mind blown! But getting back to it he nods, "That all sounds like he cares about keeping you around." He blinks again, this time much more slowly while staring right at her. "No. I think it's odd when anyone wants to go back. We belong in the middle now. We're shadows. The mortal world is our light, Arcadia is our dark. We are the inbetweens," he explains in a soft whisper, though his eyes are tracking down to the foot in his hand, realizing it was there in the first place. "I think we belong both places, working hard at maintaining both lines. Latch onto both."
His surprise causes her to light up further and she snaps her fingers. "There! That's another human thing I do! I am married! HA!" She settles back against her chair, looking terribly pleased with herself and cradling her mug of tea against her chest. "Of course, I'm not sure if he'll ever come around again. If not, it was lovely while it lasted." Being a Dusk, she doesn't tend to mourn the impermanence of life. Things come. Things go. People come. People go. That's the way of things. Anyway, where was she? Oh yeah! "We don't belong here any longer; this place is for the mortals. We don't belong in the Hedge either; it belongs to the hobs. Where are we the strongest? Arcadia. What if .. what if that is where we belong? What if that is our home and the 'True Fae'," -- the star rolls her eyes at that -- "..they are simply parasites who have taken it over and robbed us of our rightful home?" Uh. Wut?
Cian chuckles and shakes his head a little, "That's a human thing you did, and if he's not around any more, then you don't currently have a husband, or a marriage." Thief's views are a lil skewed himself. If you're not looking at it clearly you don't want it. He sips the tea again, draining it to half full. Setting it to the side, he goes back after her feet, those fingers now climbing her calves and shins as well, getting more familiar with the star studded skin of the Star. Looking up with a perk of his eyebrow he shakes his head, "No. If anything, the Hedge is ours, not the Hobs. We're the in betweens, not them. Arcadia is Theirs. They robbed us of a lot, but that we became stronger for it is our revenge." He is still not going above a whisper but he's not letting go of her gaze while they talk.
"The Hedge drains us. The Hedge makes us weaker. That's not where we belong. And out here, we have to hide. We have to pretend. We have to work at being things that we .. can never be again. We are not human no matter how hard we try. We will never get that back." For her, especially, being an Elemental -- her humanity is such a foreign concept these days. They are perplexing, these mortal creatures, with their complex feelings and emotions. Fascinating but a puzzle that she is increasingly finding that she's missing pieces to complete. "We're divine creatures, all of us. We are slumbering Gods. Some of us have started to wake but the potential is within each of us." Slowly, her universe expands. More planets. More moons. More comets, asteroids, meteors. "We were meant to walk this earth for a time. We were meant to live our mortal lives. And when that time was done, when we were /ready/, we were supposed to ascend to Arcadia. But it's all been perverted. The True Fae parasites, somehow, have taken it over. They have become aware of us and /steal/ us before our ascensions, while we are vulnerable within our mortal chrysalis. They enslave us before we reach our potential. Don't you see? They are chaining Gods to their will, using /our/ power for their own ends. We must rise up. Break these chains. Take back what is /ours/. Never again will anyone be Taken and we will have our Home." She grins widely over her mug of tea before taking a sip. That's, uh .. that's quite a ‘’theory’’ she has. Maybe someone should take her weed away, huh? Stage an intervention? Jeebus fookin' christ. "And I'm still married! He's just off doing Winter things." Squint. "I think."
Cian stares at her quietly for a long while and just keeps on staring. She's not on this planet. She's not attached to reality and she certainly isn't understanding of the delicacy of their situation. No it's fuck those guys and she should be the true fae. He whispers quietly, "But how long until you start bringing people to your domain because you need playmates, or toys to keep you from being bored. All that power sounds...boring to me, there's nothing left to challenge you," he wrinkles his nose as the foot rub and leg rub continues. "Well, if it's been more than a year or two, it's probably not a marriage any more. Besides, who's going to take you on dates? Kiss you? Remind you that there's still some stuff here worth sticking around for?"
"Jesus." Jesus...is her husband? Man, she /is/ crazy! No, no, she continues. "Jesus Christ is one of us. And that is how we were /supposed/ to be, the path we were supposed to follow. He lived. He did works on Earth. When it was his time to become a God, he ascended to Arcadia. This was before the True Fae took it over -- that was how it was supposed to happened for all of us." Cressida sips her tea; she's almost done now. Has Cian even touched his? "Jesus didn't take any playmates with him; we wouldn't either. When you are a God, you don't need companions. It's because the True Fae /need/ our power -- our /divinity/ -- that they steal us away." Finishing off her tea, she looks down into her empty mug and then sets it aside. Grinning over at Cian, she seems to have no sense that she's unnerved him in any way; she just smiles sweetly and twinkles in that twinkly way of hers. "It's been, oh I don't know. Six months or so? But it's not like I've been alone during that time. Our marriage isn't like that. If he comes back, it might just be him and me. It might not be. While we are apart though, it's silly to wall oneself off. I wouldn't expect that of him, he wouldn't expect that of me. I mean, that's just /silly/."
Jesus. He stares a little longer and tries to blink through the information bombarding him about Cressida and her /ideas/. But no, he's not going to run off and tell Count, that'd be fucked up and besides, he really likes her dammit. Freakin towing those county lines man. He shifts and chuffs once. His tea is now cold, but mostly empty, the last dregs in the bottom left in the mug on the nearest flat surface. Her lower extremities should be feeling quite nice considering he's been working at it since they sat down. The twinkling is nice for the shadow as he listens. Topics changed over to matters of marriage and other things, the Thief seems bewildered at first before deciding that he understands enough. "That would be silly, it is good you're both so practical about it," he goes huh, and just shrugs a little, "So that's good." A tilt of his head and he looks at her, "Cress, I worry is all. I haven't made many friends and now that I'm making them I don't want to lose them."
This is the part where she's /supposed/ to say something comforting like 'you'll never lose my friendship' or something to that effect. Too bad she's Dusk. "Cian, we lose everything in the end," she says with a smile. But it's not a sad smile! This isn't something to upset about! She picks her feet up out of his lap but this is only so she can plant them on the ground and lean forward. Reaching out, the fallen star places a hand on his knee. "It is the fact that things are finite that makes them so wonderful and special. If you lived forever, would your life have meaning? If you were always happy, would that joy taste as sweet? Every second is the /only/ second that will ever be; there will never be another one like it. When it is over, it is done. So every moment must be savored, lived fully. Do not let yourself be paralyzed by the inevitable; live in the /now/. Your friends of today will not be your friends of tomorrow but they occupy /this/ moment." She grows a bit brighter, stars raining down from the celestial halo that never seems to leave her. "And when the Final Light comes, you will meet it knowing that you took from life everything that it offered and carry with you into that last moment no regrets." With that, she grins a dopey smile, gives Cian's knee a reassuring pat and then pushes herself up to her feet. "I'm going to bed now," she says. "I am sleepy. You can stay here with me, if you'd like?" The Elemental is already crawling into her little nest in the back of the hovel, fluffing up some of the quilts and pillows.
Cian is face to face with a Star Goddess who believes the inevitable is coming and there is no room for waiting for tomorrow. There's a sort of bashful understanding that loss is inevitable, he's a thief, everyone loses shit to him. Right? Well it's more roundabout than that. With the placement of her hand on his knee, he blinks up at her. The rain of bright lights and stars doesn't reflect in his eyes, the light just swallowed up like she smothers his Mantle. The pat pat and the invitation have him standing. Looking to the door then back to her. Back to the door? Then back to Cressida. Her speech is still burning in his ears and he sighs. The nervous Darkling trying to work up to or through something. The feeling is palpable as he kind of numbly trails after her quietly, his footsteps making no sound. When he reaches her, he stands there awkwardly for a minute, sort of looming over her and her bed. When he does finally get the gumption to slide down into the bedding, he crawls right over the galaxy girl, his chest slithering over hers until he's perched over her, noses nearly touching. "No regrets," he chimes after her in a whisper. Then he kisses her, right there, right on the lips, he kisses the dirty hippy hard. It's even chaste to an extent, there's not even a slip of his tongue. When it parts, the Darkling nestles against her side, partly on her, partly pressed into her flank, the lanky man will be right there for the next hour or so, watching what it's like for a universe to go to sleep. | |
