( it takes some time because, well, she's had quite the eventful few hours thus far. on top of that, the university proper sprawls over several blocks. so there's some wandering, some minor nosing about - ah, and she at least makes sure she doesn't make the same mistake as she made last time she was playing about with the instruments, and takes the proper precaution to ensure the network doesn't get to play witness to this particular visit.
eventually, a clear note cuts through the overbearing silence. just a few rather than a full melody, scattered, but familiar enough that she thinks to follow the source. finding the right door is a simple enough task after that, one she peeks through for the briefest moment before welcoming herself in with something of a relieved breath. )
There you are. ( as if they didn't agree to meet here, ) I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?
[ Argalia's fluffy hair is to her until she speaks, then the man turns and the last note he presses dies out between her words and his, soft and high and sweet. An ache fills the space in his heart and the silence would be worse, for him, but he has something for that. ]
Not at all, Fearne. I was only making sure it was tuned properly.
[ And it is, obviously. For what it's worth. Argalia steps aside, long fingers pressing ever slightly against the keys and making them gasp their notes quietly beneath his hand as he does so. Fascinating, though, she really is more beast than beauty, and yet than itself is beauty -- not unlike his companions at all, and yet distinctly different. ]
You are even more stunning in person, might I say. I'm sure you've gotten that a lot, though, with an exquisite body like yours.
[ It's not even said in a particularly playful or flirty way, it's objective fact. In the City, Fearne would be cast into the Outskirts or worse. Argalia would welcome her into his Ensemble. She'd be an outcast, save for them. She's a perfect specimen. ]
( his hands move, and her eyes curiously follow. the glide of fingers over keys is truly nothing more than that, but still she's halfway through a reverie when his remark finally catches her.
it's there does she allow herself the moment to look, her admiration edged with something far older even in its tempered state. a fascination in ways only the fae could hold for a mortal - brilliant, beautiful things that some of them are. )
Not with the same delivery, maybe. And mostly with their eyes.
( the last step through the threshold is the space she needed to let the door shut behind her, finally making her way to the grand instrument. she doesn't take a spot by him just yet though, carving a path around it instead to let her eyes roam over the lacquered wood. )
[ Argalia's gaze follows her, but flicks to the piano at the question. ]
Not the way she does in my memories, though it is lacking my sister's touch. The melodies that breathed out of her hands... were a comfort, after she had gone.
[ His smile dims a little, but it's full of warmth as he breathes a little sigh. If only she were here... but she isn't, and nothing pangs at that loneliness in him more. ]
Maybe it just needs a woman's touch. Or a Fey's, since you mentioned that -- are you one yourself?
( a sister that was far more intimate in her knowledge with the instrument. one lost, from the way he sounds and smiles, leaving a pit where family ought to be. an abandonment of a different sort, with his as permanent as hers was purposeful.
a wistfulness she shrouds with wonder, the tips of her fingers skating along the polished rim of the piano as she continues her rounded path. she thinks to offer her condolences, but the words don't quite find her by the time he poses a different question entirely. )
I am. ( and it's the side of it she lingers around, closer to where he sits. elbows resting on wood so she may lean and lace her fingers together in a loose weave. ) Met any others before?
Merry Christmas and a happy Noel to you! I'm here to announce who you'll be a secret Santa to... Your giftee is: Junpei Tenmyouji!
Congratulations! Here's a few notes to help you pick or make the perfect present for them.
LIKES: sneakers, old sci-fi movies, beer, cool jackets, model robots DISLIKES: time travel, murder mysteries, time travel murder mysteries, formalwear HOBBIES: collecting stuff... doing clubs? watching and/or thinking really hard about a movie.
Remember we'll be having a Christmas party on the 25th, so if you want to give it to them then or just drop it off by the tree for them to find, well, you can do just that! We'll have a lot of traditional Christmas foods, plus smores, and I'm sure it'll be a wonderful little time for us to gather, sing carols, and be merry this cold winter season!
If you've got any questions, comments, concerns, or desires for clarifications... You got one chance to ask them, because I've got a bunch of people to contact and I don't have a bunch of time to entertain conversation! :)
( the likelihood of him looking for something with his name on it under the tree at a gathering seemed pretty slim, especially if it's a second box, so..
(not that chancing upon this one is any likelier, but considering she has no other avenues of delivering this thing. well, gamble it is. if it's lost to the city, then maybe he wasn't meant to have it.)
a box with his scrawled name burnt into the wood will sit on a counter within that familiar, dimly lit bar; right over the spot she'd encountered him in last. it's not signed, but the wooden box itself is held fast with ivy. not enough that the box chokes with it, but just enough that it'd take a little effort to remove, and that the contents wouldn't spill if jostled.
inside (if he sees it, or bothers to even open it) is a simply carved bird that's rough around the edges. round with a long tail and beak, neither painted nor finished with polish, sat over thinly shredded paper that's built like a nest. there were probably words on it once, judging by the ink. maybe a letter, maybe a story. pieces are missing, so who knows?
she doesn't linger either, but she does take the blue curacao with her just to be petty. )
( waking to the clasp of something cold and metallic on her wrist was to be expected, at least. being in an entirely different room at the wake of her offense was also along her lines of expectation, considering this isn't her first. but at least she's not on display at the museum again, which is good. it was kind of a pain leaving that area last time.
the bedding smells familiar though? and the sleep-addled faun curls up on her side and makes to pull more of the blanket in on herself despite the chain that stops it just short. it'll be fine if she falls back asleep for another minute or so, probably. if she's familiar enough that her instincts do not immediately startle, surely they wouldn't mind.
... ...
...?
why is it familiar, actually.
........ hm.
a slow peek over her shoulder, squinting in the low light. seeing silver makes her brow furrow, and immediately settle back on her side as if she didn't see him. nope. not her problem yet. give her five more minutes. )
[ Argalia isn't a heavy sleeper by profession, but even by the life he clawed his way up he's never been; he doesn't rouse immediately, but he feels the tug of the blanket and the shifting, the forced settling back of whomever has stolen away into his bed and feels a sense of alert awareness he hasn't had since arriving.
They're most likely awake still too, and so Argalia considers his movement as he keeps his breathing steady and even, a farce of slumber. There's metal dropped heavy around one of his wrists. That means they most likely aren't here willingly. Either they don't care who they're in bed with, or they aren't a stranger to him. The latter is a very short list, however, but it becomes even shorter when he puts the notion of a normal person might wake their unintended captive once stirring themselves -- instead, his bedfellow merely rolled back and seems to want to ignore him.
...
The list is far shorter, then, and Argalia breathes out heavier as he closes his eyes and puts aside his feelings; Fearne gets only that before he speaks up soft in volume and overly light in tone, his voice a touch more ragged from the lack of use while he slept than the usual melody it composes. ]
I didn't think I'd find you in my bed this way, Fearne.
( it's unsurprising that he'd wake from that. he's a far more careful sort compared to her. warier. the survivor in him likely would not allow much else, and if anything she's more surprised that his instincts didn't stain the sheets with her blood. it's a distinct possibility she entertained when she rolled back over, figured that if it's going to happen anyway she might as well enjoy another nap while she can.
then he speaks, and she thinks to ignore him. pretend she's quick to let sleep take her after a moment of consciousness to give herself just a little more time to figure out what to do. instead, she stares off the side of the bed, fussing with a corner of the blanket, her voice more mumble than her usual brightness.
should she play along? make this day at least go as painlessly as possible? )
.. You don't have to do that.
( play at levity, she means. he's made himself pretty clear, after all. she's nothing but a means to an end, barely even a friend. so she'll spare him the energy. she knows how tiring that can get.
besides, she's not sure her heart could handle another play at a farce. so she sighs, soft and muted. she can at least do civility. she's not a child anymore. )
I'm sorry you got dragged into this. ( ... ) I didn't think it'd be you, to be fair.
[ His own gaze remains across at the other wall, unmoving, speaking with faces turned away feels no different than the device itself. But he doesn't rectify that issue, simply sits up to fluff out his hair a little and reach for the earpiece on the end table on his side; the metal cuff jingles at the first action, a slight tug on his end. ]
Stealing something besides hearts?
[ If she isn't up to play strangers, then he can hardly try -- though his tone remains that same light casualness as before. What does distance sound like, to her? The gentle warmth in his chest is a point of annoyance right now, but he doesn't let anything show. ]
There's only so many people in this city, you know. You might have preferred someone else, [ it would have been easier if it was, ] but it is what it is.
( the cuff tugs at hers, and she yields to at least let him go about getting ready. it's a little uncomfortable when she still has her back turned to him, but she doesn't care. she needs just another moment. please. )
Some of us can't help ourselves. Faeries, remember?
( she doesn't mind that it's scathing when it rolls off her tongue. it stung when he'd reduced her all to nonsensical nature, to playful and uncaring whimsy, so why go out of the boundaries of what he clearly knows? )
But before you get too excited, I didn't steal the book you wanted.
( might as well make that clear, just in case he thinks she's finally let a bad day make the best of her to get back in his good graces. something she considered in some of her worst moments, but she's not exactly proud of that. )
.. It could be worse, I guess.
( it could've been someone closer to daan. it also could've been someone who'd care a little too much that she'd done this at all when everyone knows by now what this is a possible consequence of. )
( ...is there any sense to doing this? she gave him a christmas present. she is, despite how much she hates him, how much she is scared of him, trying to have some level of civility and peace between them.
because this is not their city, and they have a mutual who, she thinks, would be much happier if she didn't have to worry if they were going to murder each other.
it just has to be something simple. something light. )
Good morning, Argalia. Happy birthday. There's no need to reply to this message. I figured it's been a while since someone told you this, however.
( yeah, perfect. )
Edited (sorry this has to be this time) 2024-01-04 06:55 (UTC)
I'm not picking fights. I'm only offering a different perspective.
[ Nevermind that his words to Emet-Selch were certainly a cautionary tale. She doesn't know what's going on with him and Vergilius. ]
I find that others adore to look down on the people they find themselves in, my dear. Do you think you're the only one who would have risked the unknown if it gave them a glimmer of hope? Do they think they're above it? It's easy for them to claim they wouldn't have done the same, but only because someone else has made that particular "mistake", [ though his tone makes it clear it isn't one to him, ] before they could.
[ A beat. ]
If it had worked, it wouldn't have matter who suffered or how. They would be celebrating you. Living things are so dreadfully fickle in that way.
( a soft laugh, barely drowned out by the pitter patter of rain. )
Taking a side different from theirs may as well be a fight for some people.
( and no, she doesn't know. the trail cuts off which almost makes her want to ask if he's alright, but. that doesn't seem like a conversation to have like this? )
You're probably right though. ( they're fickle like that. she most certainly is. he can be. ) And I appreciate you worrying, but I don't want you to get in trouble either. What if you get hurt again?
Then I'll simply come to you. I've been hurt for lesser reasons than being a voice of reason, Fearne.
[ He's lived a long life of it, really. Argalia won't say there's no one else who could land a solid hit on him -- Colors are the prime of their world, there's undoubtedly others who could be equal in theirs -- but he knows Fearne would still heal him if needed, if asked. Scolded, but healed. ]
... It isn't fair that Daan gets off with such sympathy.
( not that she doesn't have any faith that he knows how to take care of himself, and she is happy to hear that he'd seek her out for it but - this isn't his city. people needn't resort to violence as the first option for conflict resolution.
... even if it is one of hers, at times. )
Mm, well he is the good doctor.
( and if she really felt up to it, she could try to mitigate some of the worst herself. set records clear and let people make their assumptions after even if it seems more trouble than it's worth.
or, maybe, she's scared to open herself up to that. doesn't want anyone else to because then the eye and ire would be turned to them instead. )
( the clicks of pins locked in place by a thinner piece of metal more or less announces her arrival. not that it's loud by anyone else's standard, but she doesn't have much doubt that he could hear that from wherever he is anyway.
regardless! the lock is picked and the door swings open and she looks far too proud of herself for someone who definitely had an easier way in. )
I brought goodies.
( an announcement. hi. hello. she's hefting a few paper bags in. )
[ His little bird tweets a greeting before his own even thinks to come, fluttering onto Fearne's shoulder with a happy nuzzle; Argalia peeks out of his room with a slow smile, though he still tuts at her. ]
You should use the key I gave you. [ She has, but he loves to be smart. ] But no, I haven't. Just how many goodies did you take, my fey?
[ Here-- let him help, he'll take some from her. ]
( a kiss to the top of the robin's head, nuzzling right back in greeting. the key mentioned sits in a pocket safe, right alongside her lockpicks. )
Keeps my hands busy.
( she'll hand some of the bags over though. they're a little heavy. filled with pantry staples and such (along with milk and whiskey) and also, a few of the books she has to copy.. and paper of some varieties and color.
and of course another thing to add to the growing pile of tchotchkes in this apartment, sitting right on top: a suncatcher the shape of a crystalline hummingbird. )
Mm, enough. ( for now. ) Wanna go somewhere to eat?
[ Such an assortment. Where he's always been more of someone who takes his routine out to buy just what he needs for that day... Fearne has been leaving things like this as if planning his weeks in advance. More permanent, less transient; he isn't blind to it nor the way she's been adding color to his walls.
The suncatcher would look nice in his room, he thinks. ]
So long as you have something in mind. I can't say I spend much time exploring the restaurants.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
10/11(??), evening. oh boy.
eventually, a clear note cuts through the overbearing silence. just a few rather than a full melody, scattered, but familiar enough that she thinks to follow the source. finding the right door is a simple enough task after that, one she peeks through for the briefest moment before welcoming herself in with something of a relieved breath. )
There you are. ( as if they didn't agree to meet here, ) I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?
Oh Boy.
Not at all, Fearne. I was only making sure it was tuned properly.
[ And it is, obviously. For what it's worth. Argalia steps aside, long fingers pressing ever slightly against the keys and making them gasp their notes quietly beneath his hand as he does so. Fascinating, though, she really is more beast than beauty, and yet than itself is beauty -- not unlike his companions at all, and yet distinctly different. ]
You are even more stunning in person, might I say. I'm sure you've gotten that a lot, though, with an exquisite body like yours.
[ It's not even said in a particularly playful or flirty way, it's objective fact. In the City, Fearne would be cast into the Outskirts or worse. Argalia would welcome her into his Ensemble. She'd be an outcast, save for them. She's a perfect specimen. ]
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it's there does she allow herself the moment to look, her admiration edged with something far older even in its tempered state. a fascination in ways only the fae could hold for a mortal - brilliant, beautiful things that some of them are. )
Not with the same delivery, maybe. And mostly with their eyes.
( the last step through the threshold is the space she needed to let the door shut behind her, finally making her way to the grand instrument. she doesn't take a spot by him just yet though, carving a path around it instead to let her eyes roam over the lacquered wood. )
Figured out how to make her sing yet?
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Not the way she does in my memories, though it is lacking my sister's touch. The melodies that breathed out of her hands... were a comfort, after she had gone.
[ His smile dims a little, but it's full of warmth as he breathes a little sigh. If only she were here... but she isn't, and nothing pangs at that loneliness in him more. ]
Maybe it just needs a woman's touch. Or a Fey's, since you mentioned that -- are you one yourself?
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a wistfulness she shrouds with wonder, the tips of her fingers skating along the polished rim of the piano as she continues her rounded path. she thinks to offer her condolences, but the words don't quite find her by the time he poses a different question entirely. )
I am. ( and it's the side of it she lingers around, closer to where he sits. elbows resting on wood so she may lean and lace her fingers together in a loose weave. ) Met any others before?
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TXT | un: theonewhogifts
Congratulations! Here's a few notes to help you pick or make the perfect present for them.
LIKES: sneakers, old sci-fi movies, beer, cool jackets, model robots
DISLIKES: time travel, murder mysteries, time travel murder mysteries, formalwear
HOBBIES: collecting stuff... doing clubs? watching and/or thinking really hard about a movie.
Remember we'll be having a Christmas party on the 25th, so if you want to give it to them then or just drop it off by the tree for them to find, well, you can do just that! We'll have a lot of traditional Christmas foods, plus smores, and I'm sure it'll be a wonderful little time for us to gather, sing carols, and be merry this cold winter season!
If you've got any questions, comments, concerns, or desires for clarifications... You got one chance to ask them, because I've got a bunch of people to contact and I don't have a bunch of time to entertain conversation! :)
@Conductor
Only one, Santa.
Who signed me up for this? I'll still participate, but I'm a curious cat.
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Sorry, but I just hate tattling... so that'll stay a secret! Best of luck, Conductor.
12/25, at some point. a gift. :)
(not that chancing upon this one is any likelier, but considering she has no other avenues of delivering this thing. well, gamble it is. if it's lost to the city, then maybe he wasn't meant to have it.)
a box with his scrawled name burnt into the wood will sit on a counter within that familiar, dimly lit bar; right over the spot she'd encountered him in last. it's not signed, but the wooden box itself is held fast with ivy. not enough that the box chokes with it, but just enough that it'd take a little effort to remove, and that the contents wouldn't spill if jostled.
inside (if he sees it, or bothers to even open it) is a simply carved bird that's rough around the edges. round with a long tail and beak, neither painted nor finished with polish, sat over thinly shredded paper that's built like a nest. there were probably words on it once, judging by the ink. maybe a letter, maybe a story. pieces are missing, so who knows?
she doesn't linger either, but she does take the blue curacao with her just to be petty. )
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12/26. sighs. did i think i'd be back here so soon, no, but
the bedding smells familiar though? and the sleep-addled faun curls up on her side and makes to pull more of the blanket in on herself despite the chain that stops it just short. it'll be fine if she falls back asleep for another minute or so, probably. if she's familiar enough that her instincts do not immediately startle, surely they wouldn't mind.
...
...
...?
why is it familiar, actually.
........ hm.
a slow peek over her shoulder, squinting in the low light. seeing silver makes her brow furrow, and immediately settle back on her side as if she didn't see him. nope. not her problem yet. give her five more minutes. )
literally the next day
They're most likely awake still too, and so Argalia considers his movement as he keeps his breathing steady and even, a farce of slumber. There's metal dropped heavy around one of his wrists. That means they most likely aren't here willingly. Either they don't care who they're in bed with, or they aren't a stranger to him. The latter is a very short list, however, but it becomes even shorter when he puts the notion of a normal person might wake their unintended captive once stirring themselves -- instead, his bedfellow merely rolled back and seems to want to ignore him.
...
The list is far shorter, then, and Argalia breathes out heavier as he closes his eyes and puts aside his feelings; Fearne gets only that before he speaks up soft in volume and overly light in tone, his voice a touch more ragged from the lack of use while he slept than the usual melody it composes. ]
I didn't think I'd find you in my bed this way, Fearne.
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then he speaks, and she thinks to ignore him. pretend she's quick to let sleep take her after a moment of consciousness to give herself just a little more time to figure out what to do. instead, she stares off the side of the bed, fussing with a corner of the blanket, her voice more mumble than her usual brightness.
should she play along? make this day at least go as painlessly as possible? )
.. You don't have to do that.
( play at levity, she means. he's made himself pretty clear, after all. she's nothing but a means to an end, barely even a friend. so she'll spare him the energy. she knows how tiring that can get.
besides, she's not sure her heart could handle another play at a farce. so she sighs, soft and muted. she can at least do civility. she's not a child anymore. )
I'm sorry you got dragged into this. ( ... ) I didn't think it'd be you, to be fair.
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Stealing something besides hearts?
[ If she isn't up to play strangers, then he can hardly try -- though his tone remains that same light casualness as before. What does distance sound like, to her? The gentle warmth in his chest is a point of annoyance right now, but he doesn't let anything show. ]
There's only so many people in this city, you know. You might have preferred someone else, [ it would have been easier if it was, ] but it is what it is.
[ It is what it is. ]
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Some of us can't help ourselves. Faeries, remember?
( she doesn't mind that it's scathing when it rolls off her tongue. it stung when he'd reduced her all to nonsensical nature, to playful and uncaring whimsy, so why go out of the boundaries of what he clearly knows? )
But before you get too excited, I didn't steal the book you wanted.
( might as well make that clear, just in case he thinks she's finally let a bad day make the best of her to get back in his good graces. something she considered in some of her worst moments, but she's not exactly proud of that. )
.. It could be worse, I guess.
( it could've been someone closer to daan. it also could've been someone who'd care a little too much that she'd done this at all when everyone knows by now what this is a possible consequence of. )
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wow. that one was fucked dude. ouch
yeah proud of it
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01/01 sorry. un: librarian
because this is not their city, and they have a mutual who, she thinks, would be much happier if she didn't have to worry if they were going to murder each other.
it just has to be something simple. something light. )
Good morning, Argalia.
Happy birthday. There's no need to reply to this message.
I figured it's been a while since someone told you this, however.
( yeah, perfect. )
1/18ish? | voice | username: fearnie
Stop picking fights with people. It's not worth it.
( that's not all, though, is it? )
And.. thank you.
( for picking fights, for offering a more sympathetic side, for sticking by her. she really is just so spoiled? )
voice
I'm not picking fights. I'm only offering a different perspective.
[ Nevermind that his words to Emet-Selch were certainly a cautionary tale. She doesn't know what's going on with him and Vergilius. ]
I find that others adore to look down on the people they find themselves in, my dear. Do you think you're the only one who would have risked the unknown if it gave them a glimmer of hope? Do they think they're above it? It's easy for them to claim they wouldn't have done the same, but only because someone else has made that particular "mistake", [ though his tone makes it clear it isn't one to him, ] before they could.
[ A beat. ]
If it had worked, it wouldn't have matter who suffered or how. They would be celebrating you. Living things are so dreadfully fickle in that way.
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Taking a side different from theirs may as well be a fight for some people.
( and no, she doesn't know. the trail cuts off which almost makes her want to ask if he's alright, but. that doesn't seem like a conversation to have like this? )
You're probably right though. ( they're fickle like that. she most certainly is. he can be. ) And I appreciate you worrying, but I don't want you to get in trouble either. What if you get hurt again?
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[ He's lived a long life of it, really. Argalia won't say there's no one else who could land a solid hit on him -- Colors are the prime of their world, there's undoubtedly others who could be equal in theirs -- but he knows Fearne would still heal him if needed, if asked. Scolded, but healed. ]
... It isn't fair that Daan gets off with such sympathy.
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( not that she doesn't have any faith that he knows how to take care of himself, and she is happy to hear that he'd seek her out for it but - this isn't his city. people needn't resort to violence as the first option for conflict resolution.
... even if it is one of hers, at times. )
Mm, well he is the good doctor.
( and if she really felt up to it, she could try to mitigate some of the worst herself. set records clear and let people make their assumptions after even if it seems more trouble than it's worth.
or, maybe, she's scared to open herself up to that. doesn't want anyone else to because then the eye and ire would be turned to them instead. )
Are you okay?
you dont have to mind this
some time after 1/18....
regardless! the lock is picked and the door swings open and she looks far too proud of herself for someone who definitely had an easier way in. )
I brought goodies.
( an announcement. hi. hello. she's hefting a few paper bags in. )
Did you eat yet?
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You should use the key I gave you. [ She has, but he loves to be smart. ] But no, I haven't. Just how many goodies did you take, my fey?
[ Here-- let him help, he'll take some from her. ]
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Keeps my hands busy.
( she'll hand some of the bags over though. they're a little heavy. filled with pantry staples and such (along with milk and whiskey) and also, a few of the books she has to copy.. and paper of some varieties and color.
and of course another thing to add to the growing pile of tchotchkes in this apartment, sitting right on top: a suncatcher the shape of a crystalline hummingbird. )
Mm, enough. ( for now. ) Wanna go somewhere to eat?
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The suncatcher would look nice in his room, he thinks. ]
So long as you have something in mind. I can't say I spend much time exploring the restaurants.
[ Habit, and all. ]
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