uisgeannan | (no subject)

Here's something no one in Paradisa would ever expect to see: Euri, grinning from ear to ear, on the verge of skipping down the sidewalk in City Royale. It's a bizarre sight, made even stranger by the fact that she seems to be bleeding a bit from the side of her head, and there's a nasty red mark on her arm that's threatening to turn into a bruise.

Yup, it's as if she doesn't even notice.

She pauses at a corner and looks around - checking to see if she can spot a specific person - and when she doesn't see him she continues on, not even the least bit annoyed. Very un-Euri-like, but in her mind she has every right to be utterly ecstatic.

Because today, on this perfectly average summer day, she managed to cast her first curse.

It's a big deal to Witches, and especially so to her, as virtually all of them are able to do as around thirteen. Five years late is a long time, but she isn't thinking about that right now. All that's on her mind is that she isn't a complete failure as a Witch, and therefore, still has a chance of fitting in.

It's the best feeling in the world, and it's one she wants to share with more than just Dog. Unfortunately, there are few people in Paradisa she can even discuss this with, and even fewer who would approve of curse casting. So she's hunting down probably the only person who would be okay with it, even if he's sometimes not the easiest person to find. She's starting to debate summoning Dog, so he can do his whole bloodhound tracker thing....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Euri blinks, finding that odd. She's fairly sure humans in her own world were never encouraged by another party to be promiscuous. The focus for them was always on children too, with two females being together not particularly acceptable. At least, that's the case in her town. She isn't sure how it works in the cities, or with elves and welwyn and demons.

Regardless, her next comment is very blunt. "Is that why you're promiscuous?" She frowns up at him. Still not a good subject for her, with their activities last night making it even worse. "I haven't changed my opinion about that, you know."

She's looking at him expectantly. Whatever his response will be is apparently very important.

It hasn't been on children for a long time. Not really. Keep them alive, keep them healthy, but love them? Nurture them? Teach them right from wrong? Secondary. Not everyone's like that, and so much has changed since then, but... compared to before, even Robin finds it pitiful. More and more kids are growing up just like him, maybe worse.

"No, it's not." This is said quietly, but with truth behind it. Assuredness. It would be too easy to just blame it on society; it would be lying to place the blame on a society that isn't even his. His promiscuity lies in his poor upbringing, his being betrayed, his age, his condition, and his hideous and cruel wish to be loved despite every reason he shouldn't be.

"I have reasons. A lot of reasons... but they're all twisted together in what seems to be the unreasonable knot of my existence. I can't tell you one thing without having to tell you ten more, and you already know what I think about that." She should know by now, anyway, after the many times he's uttered variations of, 'I don't want to talk about it.' He wraps his fingers around her shoulder; maybe he's a little nervous even talking about it that she's going to get angry and leave (if he didn't care about that, after all, he wouldn't have childishly hidden her things).

"And I know it's not fair to you at all, but if there's even the slightest chance it makes you feel better... I have my reasons. It's not just some shallow desire for thrills or pleasure or any of that." He squeezes her shoulder, just a little. "And you're not just some girl I'm going to forget about eventually. This means a lot to me, even just... sitting here, talking. I mean that."

For better or for worse. Here he goes again, digging his own grave. Even this is too close for comfort, far more attached than he usually lets himself get. He always does this. And he knows it'll eventually end the same, regardless of his desire to stop it.

It's not the answer she's looking for, and it's far more complicated than she had expected. Part of her, deep down, wasn't actually expecting him to simply come out and say 'I'll stop messing around with other people', but irrationality and childishness made her ignore that common sense.

So she's unhappy, of course, that's apparent on her somber expression. He's right. This isn't fair to her. All she wants to be is in a nice, normal, monogamous relationship with a guy who isn't freaked out by her albinism or her being half-Witch, and she can't even have that.

But at the same time, his answer isn't completely horrible. Even though she's sniffling faintly, it still feels like there's a tiny sliver of hope. The reasons are more complicated than for his own enjoyment and, more importantly, this means a lot to him.

Her mind hangs on that thought. This means a lot to him.

"... That means a lot to me, too," she mumbles sullenly, then suddenly turns and latches onto him in a tight hug. "I'm not happy, but - it means a lot that I'm more than just a... a fling to you.... You're more than that to me."

For a second he's tense, surprised. She's hugged him before (and he's barely used to that idea), but never so tightly. But then the words come, her mumbles, her telling him that he's... important, right?

Is that why... she wants to help him? Because she... cares about him? Because he has worth? Because (it could all come crashing down so easily with the wrong word a slip of the tongue slipped his mind slipped and fell and died and he is so fucking tired of this).

There's only a hesitation where he wills his arms to move against everything they're trained to do, but then his grip is steady and he pulls her in as close as he can, holding her just as tightly as if it would somehow keep her there forever. He pets her hair, running his fingers through it to keep himself anchored, to try and make her feel better. It's really the only thing he can think of--the only thing he knows to do.

"E gyt'tys zyo ly clip'c, c'nitt y'ma," he mutters in that strange language of his, "Dol sa ipa irip'l." The meaning is more of a feeling than a message, a sense of longing, hoping, and sadness... but also a sense that this is how it must be. It is not so bad, because he's been given more than he could have asked for already.

'I would follow you to the stars, little one, but for the fact that our fates are two different paths.'

Edited 2011-09-04 09:23 (UTC)