Ian
The ambient temperature in Denver was just
slightly above freezing. Cold enough to still feel like winter (or at
least, the end of it,) but warm enough that the mass of dark clouds
overhead was just as likely to mean rain as snow. When Ian arrived at
Washington Park earlier in the evening, the air was still dry. But the
threat of precipitation loomed over the city like a blanket. He was
running, like he often did on this particular trail. It was becoming a
habit.
The path took him on a loop around the park before he
cut inward toward the lake, loping past a handful of slower runners on
his way toward the gazebo (where the girl with the odd resonance had
been two days earlier.) That, of course, was when the rain hit. Slow at
first. Delicate pin-prick droplets that left specks of wetness on the
ground. Soon it built into a light drizzle. When a drop of it managed to
hit the back of his neck and crawl icily down his spine, he exhaled
irritably and jogged into the cover of the open gazebo. Once there, he
stopped to catch his breath, hands on his hips as he looked out at the
darkened sky.
Light rain tended to come in sporadic shifts. Possibly, if he waited a few minutes, it might let up.
(Possibly he'd be running back to his car in the freezing rain.)
Alexander
[Because
he's been trying stuff out, and because he had time to kill... Sensing
heat, Arete 1. TN 4, -1 for taking time, 2 succs to last.]
Dice: 1 d10 TN3 (1) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Alexander
[Extending,
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (4) ( success x 1 )
Alexander
There
were a lot of reasons why people were in the park, and a lot of them
tended to be shared. To exercise, running along the trails through the
park. To meet, the occasional couple walking closely together through
the early evening light. To walk the dog. Or just to pass through.
One
figure, sat near the lake, is waiting for a friend. There are no plans
to meet, no exchange of text messages or voicemails or phone calls.
It’s just that this is the spot where they had met twice before, and it
seemed like the most likely place for it to happen again. It had been
months since that last time with no signs of a certain scarecrow
appearing again. But, then, there hadn’t been any warning before. So
he comes and he watches and he waits for his friend.
As he
waits, he plays with a lighter. It flicks open, lights, close. Flicks
open, lights closes. At one point, Alexander stops to feel the heat
radiating off the flame before the same cycle restarts. Only afterwards
he’s looking at more than just the lake. His vision glows with the
sensation of heat – or the lack of it. So he sees the slight cooling in
the air just before the rain starts and it suddenly seems like a good
time to find cover. The single drops multiply into rain and he runs to
the nearby gazebo. He’s not as prepared for weather today as usual –
rain hadn’t been on the forecast – and so a little cover while the rain
(hopefully) blows itself out seems to be a good idea. There was that
gazebo not so far away.
So head ducked down, he runs under cover. And then he notices that he’s not alone. “Oh! Ian. Hi.” Awkward? Quite possibly.
Ian
[Awareness]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 6, 6) ( success x 2 )
Ian
How
long had it been since the last time they'd seen each other? Not since
that night when Ian had played Kiara on the basketball court. He hadn't
spoken to Alex then - nothing beyond a brief greeting. The truth is,
they'd seldom spoken to each other at all. At least not about anything
that wasn't some immediate threat that they were in the process of
eliminating. They'd played soccer once. There hadn't been a lot of
conversation then either.
But that was probably just as well, as far as Alexander was concerned. They hadn't exactly started things off on the right foot.
Ian
hadn't really expected to see him. But then, it was a public park. And
with the rain, there were bound to be other people heading for shelter.
He didn't notice Alex's resonance right away. At first it was just this
quiet note of winter lingering in the background. But when he caught the
sound of approaching footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder toward the
sensation and matched it with Alex's face. It took slightly longer for
Alex to notice that he wasn't alone. Ian's mouth twitched with amusement
at the sudden greeting.
"Hey."
He'd clearly been
out for a run, judging by his clothes. Drawstring sweats and a sleek
black windbreaker. His hair was a bit damp from the rain. Absently he
ran a hand through it, pushing the wet strands off his forehead.
"Enjoying the weather?"
Alexander
[Awareness too]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Serafíne
AWARENESS!
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 6 )
Alexander
Alexander
glances around the gazebo quickly, seeing if there was anyone else
unexpected there, before returning his gaze to Ian. Their first meeting
hadn’t been the best on record – Alexander coming away with an
impression that he was being being played with in some kind of game that
only Ian knew the rules to. But then there had been other times that
they had encountered each other. Almost half of which involved fighting
and shooting and, oh yes, someone getting decapitated.
It’s
the little things that can make it hard to relate to someone, although
the tide of chance had been remarkably reluctant in bringing the two of
them together anyway. Who knows, maybe if they had gotten off on a
better foot, maybe managed to be sociable a little more than the time
stargazing outside the Chantry with Sera, maybe maybe maybe.
But
that wasn’t the case, and Alexander still doesn’t quite get the other
man. And so he steps back to lean against one of the rails running
around the edge of the gazebo and crosses his arms across his chest.
Maybe he’s cold? Or maybe it’s out of some unconscious statement of the
barrier between them. But, then, our Alex isn’t all that metaphorical.
“It
was better dryer. Cold I can handle. Wet when you’re not expecting it
is just nasty. How about you? You don’t really look like you were
expecting it either.”
He looks out into the darkening park,
towards its closest edge, and nods in that direction. “Shame the sky
isn’t clearer. The three of us could have looked tried to find those
nuns on a carousel again.”
Ian
Ian made a low
sound of agreement, following Alex's gaze across the landscape of the
park. "I was hoping it'd be cold enough for snow."
Alex's
posture was distant and protective. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was
the company. Either way, Ian let his eyes settle on him again, seemingly
thoughtful for a moment. His own posture felt more relaxed, shoulders
moving with the steady rise and fall of deep breaths. His pulse was
still coming down from the run, beating a quick rhythm within his veins.
He wet his lips as he settled next to Alex, leaning back against the
railing with his palms propped up on either side. There was enough space
left between them so as not to make Alex feel intruded upon.
He did smile though, tentatively, when Alex mentioned the night they'd spent stargazing.
"You left out the orgy." After a beat he asked, "How've you been?"
(Did he actually care, or was he just making conversation?)
Serafíne
The three of us?
Yeah,
Sera's out there. She's not jogging in the park and she's not looking
for the sending of a long-dead Archmage of the Celestial Chorus and
she's not actually dashing to get in out of the rain and they can feel
her: Alexander vaguely and Ian a little more sharply though neither can
feel her as well as she can feel them. They are burning bright on the
periphery of her senses, distinct enough that she shivers when her
attention slips toward Alexander's chilly resonance, that the muscles
flanking her spine tense when her heightened awareness slides to the
sense of Ian in the air - bracing against the sensation of something -
well, at the edge of the predatory.
--
See, there
she is. Cresting this little knoll, which curves gently against the
horizon, framing the view of the boathouse from the gazebo. The spare
frame engulfed by a too-large leather jacket, cigarette a signal-flare
in the gathering gloom, face turned up toward the sky as that light
rain - that drove them both to seek shelter - continues to fall.
She's not really beelining in their direction, thought she is sort of wandering that way.
Alexander
“Maybe
it will be, once the sun finishes setting.” Ahh, the weather. The
nice, safe conversation topic used the whole world over when it’s not
really clear what else should be discussed. Next up, so, any holidays planned this year?
Alex
snorts, amused, when Ian reminds him about the missing orgy. “How
could I have forgotten about the orgy? It would be a whole other
constellation without that.” He looks Ian over, taking in the running
gear and the slightly heavy breathing, and turns, still leaning on the
railing but looking out – and up at the clouds and falling rain– instead
of in. “I don’t think we’re going to be seeing any of that tonight
though.”
How’ve you been? Now there’s a dangerous
question. The answer starts, “I’ve been fine,” and is followed by a
pause. Maybe a moment to consider whether to stick with that safe,
stock phrase that lets the questioner gloss over things? He glances
back to Ian, turning his head to do so. “I wasn’t. Now I’m ok. You?”
His gaze returns to the park, looking to where a faint red glow – of
the cigarette, or of Sera’s body heat – slowly comes into view.
“How’s Sky?”
Ian
I don’t think we’re going to be seeing any of that tonight though.
"Oh,
speak for yourself." There was a wry lift to his tone, a cant of his
head as he regarded Alex. And maybe he was being serious (it was Ian,
after all - who the hell knew what he got up to on Friday evenings,) or
maybe he was just playing to the obvious joke. He could feel the
visceral pull of Sera's resonance moving steadily closer at his back,
but he didn't turn to watch her approach. Waited instead for her to
either pass them by or join them beneath the sheltering roof of the
gazebo. For a moment the rain picked up, pattering more insistently
against the wooden boards above their heads. It wasn't long before it
lightened up again.
Alex answered his question with short,
honest words. When he turned the question around by asking about Sky,
Ian looked at him with what might have been surprise. He didn't
immediately respond.
"I wouldn't know. Haven't seen him in a while."
(After all that? Interesting.)
"I'm
doing fine though. Except when I'm not. I think that's true for all of
us." After a beat he added, "Haven't had anyone try to kill me
recently."
(Implied but not spoken: I haven't had to kill anyone either.)
Serafíne
I can intuit things about emotional states in this very gazebo!
Awareness-as-empathy?
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )
Ian
[We shall see (subterfuge)]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1
Serafíne
The
rain is light enough that it never endangers her cigarette. The odd
droplet hits the dark blue paper and the splashback is enough to make
the cherry hiss sometimes, but never comes close to putting it
out. Makes her smile, the sound, this smile that is somehow both
contained and outflung, open-armed, tinged with -
- well, what the fuck would they know what it is tinged with, two dozen yards away in the gloomy, cloud-banked twilight.
--
By
the time Sera reaches the gazebo, her face is wet. The scattered
spatter of raindrops streaks down her sharply drawn features. The high
cheekbones, angular nose, the fine jaw - even her elfin ears. And
smiling like she's remembering someone or something she loves. Her hair
is a damp, tangled mass of curls that she has pulled away from her
face, twisted over her left shoulder. She's allowed some of the shaved
fringe to grow in a bit - so the usual fine dark fringe has a bit more
texture, the beginnings of a bit of a pincurl, which makes her look
softer even though she isn't - ever - soft.
Sleeves of her
leather jacket are pushed a bit up her forearms, revealing the leading
edge of the tattoo on her right forearm - the angular crow's skull - and
all the dark ink on her hands.
She smells (more than) a
little bit like pot. Beneath the leather jacket, a damp white t-shirt
clings to her torso - this hint of a black lace bra so clear beneath.
She's paired that with a crushed red velvet micromini thigh-high lace
stockings, seamed up the back, garters and combat boots, as you do.
Gives Alexander a little finger-wave and Ian a much more contained smile.
Doesn't interrupt. Does put out the cigarette before she joins them beneath the shelter of the gazebo.
She smells so fragrantly of cloves.
Alexander
The
awkwardness that Alexander’s been feeling is still there, but it does
seem to be less than it was a few minutes ago. So far he’s not feeling
like something to be toyed with by the man with the air of the feline
around him.
Alexander smiles and gives another amused snort,
looking over to Ian again as he does. “Oh? You’re off to the
planetarium later?” He knows what Ian was suggesting – and it wasn’t
stargazing – but he tries to keep the joke going a little longer
anyway.
The moments stretch out before Ian answers the
question about Sky. Alex studies his face but can’t read anything more
into the words than their own, simple meaning. “Oh. Ok.” The reaction
– after the effort than Ian had gone through to find Sky, and to free
him – was indeed interesting. “I got the impression you guys were
close?” Their precise relationship had never been discussed – it hadn’t
really been any of Alex’s business at the time anyway.
I think that’s true for all of us.
Alex nods, looking back into the rain again. Then his smile fades as
Ian adds on the part about nobody trying to kill him. There’s a moment
followed by a breath. “I have. It wasn’t personal though. Just some
bastard who thought he should have some peace to beat up his wife
objecting to being interrupted.” There’s another snort, without the
amusement behind it this time. “He’s learning the error of his ways.”
He
turns, leaning back on the railing again, as Sera arrives. She gets a
smile, warm if restrained. “Hey. We were wondering if we’d get to see
nuns having orgies again tonight.”
Ian
"Closeness
is a fluctuating state," Ian replied, somewhat cryptically. "He was
just a guy I slept with a few times. I didn't want him to die, and I'm
glad he didn't. But we have different lives." It was an honest, if
overly simplistic explanation. Probably more than he would have given
Alex (or Sera) a few months ago.
Had anyone ever mentioned to
Ian that Alex was a cop? Surely someone did, at some point. Maybe he
saw something. Recognized the gun that Alex carried. Maybe not. Alex
himself had never mentioned it. As he related his story, Ian watched him
- taking in the way that he spoke. The details of the circumstances. He
made a soft sound in his throat. Ambiguous enough that it could have
meant a lot of things.
"Lucky you were there."
(Lucky that the man didn't succeed.)
And
there was Sera. Softer and quieter than Ian often saw her. His gaze
turned to survey her for a while, returning her contained smile with one
of his own. "Rain suits you."
And then, to Alex, "I'm pretty sure that's the title of at least one porn film."
Serafíne
Sera
isn't precisely keyed in to the memory Alexander and Ian had been
riffing on - the night stargazing, her one-off comment about nuns and
orgies. Maybe she was high then. Maybe she's high now. Maybe she's
always high,
always fucked up,
always celebrating something, somehow, somewhere, somewhen.
And
she's wandered into the middle of a conversation to which she was not
wholly privy, the details are lost in her current haze and that's okay.
She's lets the cold drizzle and its dampening noise swallow them. The
air feels close and strange.
"If someone's still a nun in
this day and age she probably takes her vows pretty fucking serious. Or
she had the world's shittiest home life." This near little shrug,
strung through with the tension she forces into her shoulders to keep
herself from shivering. "I could probably find you something, though.
An approximation, at least. If all you wanna do is watch."
Then
Ian tells her that rain suits her and she flashes him another glance.
This one is rather more seeking than the last, and just as easily
deflected. Sera smiles, to herself this time, and closes her eyes.
He's
right. The rain does suit her. Paints a damp, gilded light over her
sharp angles, folds her back into her skin. "I'm just stoned," she
counters, or perhaps demures. Which is also true. She is just stoned.
"I have another joint if you want some."
Alexander
“Tides.”
Alex pushes himself up so that he’s say on the railing rather than
leaning against it, leaning forwards so that his elbows are resting on
his knees, before continuing his own rather cryptic statement. “We’re
pushed together, then we’re drawn apart until we’re push together
again.” He shrugs. “I’m glad he’s ok though. If you do happen to bump
into him, tell him I said hi.”
Lucky you were there.
Alex shrugs. “The neighbour called. Turns out the noise was drowning
out America’s Next Top Model and they wanted it stopping. I get there
with my partner, no answer at the door and the fight still going on.
One broken door, one broken arm and a fair bit of bruising later and
suddenly trying to assault officers doesn’t seem like such a great
idea.” There’s another shrug and he meets Ian’s gaze. “Shit happens.”
But
then he’s cringing at the thought of a porn movie about… “That has got
to be the biggest turn-off ever. Or clowns. Are nun clowns a thing?
Drifting around silently in their big shoes and red noses, just waiting
to pounce on the sinners?”
He smiles, laughing quietly and
looking at Sera after her offer of a joint. “You think I need a joint
if I’m coming up with ideas like this?“
Ian
"Sure, if you're offering."
He
probably shouldn't be smoking anything so soon after running. When his
body was humming with endorphins and his lungs still pulled in breath at
a slightly elevated rate. But it was Friday, and he didn't have
anywhere to be except here: in a fucking gazebo at twilight in February
with two people whose feelings about him were ambivalent at best.
It
could have been romantic, in a slightly different set of circumstances.
Instead it was cold and wet and a bit awkward. But that was alright.
Sometimes cold and wet and a bit awkward wasn't the worst thing.
"You
know I was on that once. Not as a contestant. Just... in the
background. But I remember them shooting while I was doing a thing in
Shanghai."
Apparently Alex found nuns to be about the opposite
of attractive, and Ian glanced at him with a laugh. "I'd totally fuck a
nun. If she was hot. Hell, I'd probably do it for the story alone."
(Of course he would.)
Serafíne
Sera
gives Ian this lovely, vague smile when he accepts, if she's offering.
Of course, she's offering, she's always offering, she has a bag slung
beneath her leather jacket and over her t-shirt and slings that around
and digs inside and pulls out a pack of Kreteks and finds within the
kreteks a single joint, tightly and expertly rolled. Taps it out and
offers Ian both: the joint and her lighter unearthed not from the little
bag, but from the right pocket of her leather jacket.
Glances
back at Alex as he cringes over the thought of a porn movie about...
and gives him a neat little shrug. Sera doesn't really watch porn.
It's way to impersonal.
Then Ian announces that he would fuck
a nun. If she was hot. Or just for the story, and Sera gives him a
sharper glance, sidelong. "That's a shitty thing to say. Is it true?"
Glances back at Alex, then. "Who's Sky?" Quietly, and still unexpected.
Alexander
Alex doesn’t make any move when the joint comes out and if it does happen to head in his direction he’ll just pass it on.
“A
thing? A dancing thing?” He’s not really expecting much detail, even
if there is an answer. It’s something to ask, something to talk about.
Something to… if not draw them together, maybe not keep them apart.
Ian
talks about sleeping with a nun for the story. Sera’s not sounding
happy about it, and Alex? He stays quiet and looks back down at the
floor of the gazebo. He agrees with Sera, but isn’t quite sure whether
Ian is cracking a tasteless joke or not. The guy is pretty hard to
read, after all. So he lets it slide and doesn’t comment.
Who’s Sky?
Alex takes a breath and looks up at Ian, wondering who should answer.
He can, at least, start the story. The short version, at least. He
looks down at the ground again as he starts. “You remember the thing
with the spirit down at the reservoir last year? Sky was caught up in
the whole thing. We – and Alyssa – got him out.”
Alex looks back up at Sera – not even glancing at Ian now – as the last part goes unsaid. The first time I saw Ian behead someone.
Ian
"I've
done worse things," he offered in reply to Sera, though to his credit,
he didn't sound especially proud of it. He took the joint and the
lighter from her hand, putting the former to his lips. There was a low
gust of wind that swept past, and he used his hands to shelter the small
flame of the lighter. When he was done he handed it back to her,
pulling in a slow, shallow drag of smoke. It'd been awhile since the
last time he'd gotten even remotely high, and for a moment the taste of
it distracted him.
"I probably wouldn't tell, if I did," he
admitted. "At least, not like that." He didn't know if that was the part
Sera was objecting to, but it was the part he personally found the most
distasteful (the idea of violating someone's privacy.) "But would I
sleep with a nun if she offered? Yes. Theoretically."
He let
Alex relate the beginning of the story about Sky, going quiet for a
while. He took another drag off the joint and offered it to first Alex
(who passed,) then Sera, if she wanted it.
"He's a Verbena I used to know. Someone we helped once."
Serafíne
"I
don't remember that," Sera tells Alexander quietly, and it's true. She
doesn't remember the thing with the spirit down a tthe reservoir last
year. Maybe she wasn't involved. Maybe she was never told the story.
Strange how the things that are absolutely central to our lives can be
so peripheral to those we are close to or at least tied in to. She's
watching Alexander when he looks back up at her, something significant
beneath the weight of his gaze that she cannot quiet absorb, which makes
her want to go and kiss him on the temple and murmur to him that yes, yes, he'll be okay,
except that she does remember his reaction to her touch so she swallows
down that impulse. It is just a momentary tension in her left temple:
the urge and its erasure, or at least its burial.
Ian takes a
drag of the joint and offers it to Alexander and then to Sera. By now
she's leaning back agains the railing, one hand wrapped around its
frame, head tipped back so she can see the leading edge of the twilight
sky and she takes a hit from the joint and hands it back. Neither of
them understand why she thinks that Ian was pretty awful just now, but
that's okay. Sera hardly understands. It was just a reaction she had:
visceral, gut-formed.
"What's worse?" she asks Ian. Some things, a person just needs to know.
Ian
"It was a modeling gig. The thing in Shanghai. I used to be a model."
Alexander
The
joint moves and Alex just passes it between the other two, if it makes
the movement easier. Drugs aren’t his thing – even this – so it’s all
theirs.
At least, not like that. Alex watches Ian again at
that point in his reply. Whether the privacy violation or the thought
that the woman would be used simply for the amusement value of the story
is worse isn’t quite clear in Alex’s mind, but does it really matter.
In Sera’s words, both are particularly shitty things to do to a person.
But then it seems that Ian may well have just been telling a
particularly tasteless joke.
Alex meets Sera’s gaze for a few
seconds. He’s not a particularly hard person to read most of the
time. There was a time that he wasn’t ok. But then everything he’d
been holding in had exploded when Grace and Eleanor had tried
introducing him to the existence of Ginger. And didn’t that go well.
But now? He is alright about what happened. “Not everyone survived.”
He shrugged, water under the bridge. They had their peace now.
His gaze moves from Sera back to Ian again. “Thank you, by the way. For the advice.”
Next time, don’t hesitate. He hadn’t.
Ian
Ian's
eyes cut to Alex when he thanked him for the advice. His eyes had a
distant expression. Remembering, maybe. (Or maybe it was just the pot.)
And then he made this soft sound, and for a moment he almost looked...
pensive? Sad?
"It's a shitty lesson to have to learn. I didn't want you to die. I don't want any of us to die."
When
his attention traveled back to Sera, his mouth quirked into a slight
grin. There was an edge to it that didn't feel entirely humorous, though
perhaps that was a holdover from the other parts of their
conversation.
"Would you like a list? Because I think that
would take all night." After a moment he slid down to sit with his back
against the gazebo wall.
"I cheated on my first girlfriend with my foster sister. That's a pretty shitty one."
Serafíne
"Alexander,"
Sera murmurs, voice quiet, her body language still and contained but
away. There is a rhythm to the way she smokes the joint, the puff,
puff pass is familiar and meaningful if one imbues it with meaning,
like communion. Believe giving gravity to the ordinary.
The
thought passes through her stoned head like a zipper and makes her
smile. Her eyes close and threads her fine fingers through the slats of
the railing framing the gazebo, leaning back and back and back until
the rain hits her face again. Long coils of damp blonde hair spill
backwards.
When Ian offers her a list she straightens -
stands upright, the end the elegant curl of her arched spine - and looks
at him, this damp and quiet flicker of her eyes, dark in the rainsoft
evening.
"When did you decide monogamy wasn't for you?"
Alexander
“We
didn’t.” It seems a little strange to Alex being the one telling
someone else the equivalent of it’ll be ok, but it was true. If he’d
hesitated, maybe Victoria would have been able to hurt or kill her
hostage, or any of the others who had been there to stop her. Much like
the unknown Hermetics who had made their attempt not so long before
theirs. “We’re all alive.” Had they known each other better – had Alex
known whether Ian would appreciate touch or not – Alex might have moved
to make contact.
But they don’t, and he doesn’t, so it ends with the words.
Something
there may have been more of, except for a buzzing coming from one of
his pockets as his phone springs into life. Mouth open, just on the
brink of speaking again, it closes again as he pulls the phone out and
checks the screen. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” With that, he
steps out of the gazebo – resting a hand on Sera’s shoulder for a moment
in passing – and finds cover behind one of the supports of the gazebo,
under the overhanging roof, where he would keep relatively dry.
[And fades into the dark, as it’s early and I think I need to sleep.]
Serafíne
WAIT. IAN ARE YOU MAUDLIN!
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 6 ) [WP]
Ian
[Subterfuge +2 cause high and also depressing conversation topics]
Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Ian
There
was so much more to that story that he'd left out. So much that would
have made it sound... different. Sadder. Less callous. Sera, perceptive
as she was, felt the weight of it hanging in the air. All of those
things that he hadn't said.
Maybe he wanted to sound callous, though. Maybe that was why he said things like I'd fuck a nun if she was hot. Which had not been a joke at all, actually.
There
was a heaviness to him that tried to settle in. This deep, abyssal thing that
he could not have opened up at that juncture even if he'd wanted to. He
didn't have the stamina for it. But Sera noticed the way it pulled at
him. The way it threatened to engulf him for a moment, the way that old
memories sometimes do. The way it just made him so fucking sad.
There was a stark note of guilt there, making his chest tight. (Making
him want to say more callous things.) But he was high, and the mood
didn't quite settle. Slid off of him a little - the way the rain beaded
up and slid off of his jacket.
When did you decide monogamy wasn't for you?
Something
about that question - maybe the way she'd phrased it, maybe the fact
that it came so close on the heels of his last revelation, maybe just
the fact that the pot was slowly starting to sink into his system -
struck him as suddenly, strangely funny, and he uttered this odd little
laugh. For a moment, it almost sounded like he was about to fucking
unravel. But then the laugh mellowed - became this warm, amused thing.
And he looked at her with softer eyes.
"I don't know, high school? I think relationships in general aren't for me."
Alex
bid his goodbye. Offered that simple point of reassurance, which Ian
accepted silently. If they'd known each other better, maybe a lot of
things would have been different. But... they didn't. So Alex left to go
answer his phone, leaving Ian and Sera to their own devices. Ian passed
her the joint and leaned back against wooden beams again, resting his
head as he listened to the sound of the rain on the roof.
"What about you?"
Serafíne
Sera
makes this noise behind her mouth, beneath her tongue.
Wrapped up in her throat and it isn't anything, precisely, just a noise,
like a click, like a lock, like a key. She's watching Ian through
half-slitted eyes (he's below her now) but lifts her chin, tilts her
head backwards as Alexander has to take a call and has to take his
leave, offering Ian reassurances she really does not understand either
the eight or the gist of.
Strange how that happens. Strange strange strange.
The
joint. She takes a hit, passes it back, and bends down briefly to
offer Ian this drunken benediction, kissing him on the crown of his
head. There's magic in the air: her own. Her awareness of place and
heartbeats, of moving minds and the way they tangle. Nothing sharper,
nothing directed at him no. Strange how someone who feels the way she
feels can be so thoroughly, entirely tender: her hand curved behind his
skull, her mouth tangled in his hair before she lets him go again.
Sets him free. Straightens and takes the joint and leans back, bracing the palms of her hands on the railings.
"I think relationships in general are absolutely for me. Just not way other people inhabit them, you know? I guess I think -
"I don't know what I think? I've never really had a boyfriend though. Or a girlfriend. Not like that."
Ian
Sera bent over to kiss the crown of his head,
tender and reverent. Ian closed his eyes and exhaled a long cloud of
smoke. It dissipated into the cold air, curling up to wind its scent
into the damp tendrils of Sera's hair. When she pulled back, he turned
his head to look at her, neck craned at a slight angle.
"What would your version of a relationship be?"
Serafíne
"I
dunno," she returns, with this quick, darting little smile that makes
her cheeks curve, sure. She's feeling bright and flushed and open and
that I dunno comes from the place in her that refuses definitions and refuses labels and perhaps even refuses language in favor of -
of -
of -
everything else there is.
"Mmmm."
She inhales. She's stoned, the world's lovely. The rain falls,
attuned, syncopated. Cars rush passed, all those strangers, all those
kindled lives, all those living flames, each one blood and bone and
muscle wrapped around a beating heart. "I have alot of them. Friends,
who are lovers, who are family. Strangers who aren't strangers for a
night. I don't like when it changes, sometimes -
"But it's gonna change. Sometimes that hurts.
"But I'd rather hurt than - " Stops. Arrests herself there. " - never open myself up in the first place."
Pause, quiet as she hands the joint back to Ian.
"Did your girlfriend ever find out?"
Serafíne
Manipulation + Subterfuge, also. (To conceal tears.)
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
Ian
"Yeah."
He
didn't elaborate. Didn't say if she found out because someone told her
or because she caught him or just because she was perceptive enough to
know that something was wrong.
"I think that's a good way to
be. Letting relationships just be these... organic things. People come
and go. You relate differently to each. Everyone has something different
to offer. And it's all constantly evolving. Trying to box it all up in
these predefined categories... and all of the fucking rules and
expectations that leads to... is so self-defeating. It's just a lot of
people walking around trying to conjure up their dreams in another
person and inevitably being disappointed."
Ian handed Sera the
last of the joint, passing it off in a way that felt like he was done
with it. "I probably don't know what the fuck I'm talking about though."
After all, he hadn't been in an official relationship since high school.
Serafíne
"That's not really what I mean, Ian."
Sera takes the joint back.
Pinches
off the cherry and glances at the bit of pot left in the roach and
decides to leave it somewhere, in some nice dry ashtray, a present for
whoever combs through looking for half-smoked cigarettes to augment
whatever they manage to bum or the loosiest they buy for a quarter.
She
manages to hum, thoughtful, stoned, the words alive in her and the park
too. Open, and it is gentle the way she corrects him. She's smiling
around the words, though he cannot really see that. It's dusk maybe,
or dark, and he's below her and she's standing, leaning back, rain on
her face, in her lashes. That smile is rather immoderately sad.
"There are always expectations. And dreams, and disappointments. I wouldn't wanna be closed to any of those things.
"That's where love comes in."
Sera looks away. The rain hasn't lightened, it has intensified.
"I'm gonna go. It was nice getting high with you."
Ian
Ian
hummed gently. This low, thoughtful sound. His eyes slid away from Sera
to take in the exposed beams of the gazebo's roof. Briefly caught up in
the way they fit together. The pattern of the wood. Noting the places
where cobwebs formed.
"I don't know shit about love."
Because
that was all he could say, really. It came out sounding gentler than
usual - maybe just because he was stoned. But he didn't try to debate
the matter, whether or not he agreed.
"Try to keep warm. You don't take care of yourself enough."
That
part sounded gentle too. This flicker of worried affection that might
not have showed if he'd been paying more attention to how he spoke. He
watched her go with a little nod of goodbye. And after a while, he gave
up on waiting out the rain and jogged back to his car.
