Franconi's Stables [4]

[The Khanum]

http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff81/The_Phantoms_Opera/BeneathOperaHouse/stables.jpg
f r a n c o n i ' s . s t a b l e s
The stables of the former Paris Opera House were not so much underground, but beneath the Opera House opening up to where a small village used to home. On the other side of the stables was a passageway leading to the lair of the Phantom as legend says. History books say that Erik used to move constantly to and from his lair to the stables, stealing horses and using them for his master plans. The stables are anything but gorgeous now; hardly any light shines through and in several of the derelict stalls lay horse bones and artifacts.
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Pearce Rowe

The little black book hadn't merited even the slightest of glances. The strangely colored eyes of the girl remained locked stubbornly with his own black orbs, refusing to be distracted by whatever little bits of information or casual conversation he tried to throw at her. He broke the connection of their gazes momentarily in order to glance at the vague darkness of scars that danced over her skin. Pearce then looked into her eyes again, the expression on his face losing a hint of its previous coyness, replacing it with seriousness. He saw the way her muscles tightened against her bones, joints squaring in what psychologists called a "fight-or-flight" response. As of now he couldn't yet decide which course of action she would pick first...if she was the type to flee, or if she had another trick up her sleeve. Pearce was enough of a misogynist to think that women very rarely had tricks up their sleeves, but he wasn't stupid: This girl was spitfire.

Finally, with her lips curling back in a snarl, she replied, "Who are you trying to fool?" Pearce's expression didn't overtly change; instead something flickered in the depth of his ebony irises, brief but noticeable. Her voice had transformed into an animalistic growl, bringing to mind his previous comparison to a wildcat. The image was no less tempting than it had been previously. "I can see straight through that stupid little act you're putting on." Though his eyes remained steady on her face, he caught out of the corner of his peripheral vision a movement of her arm, her hand twitching as it stayed poised over a pocket of her jeans.

Pearce wasn't sure if he was more annoyed or secretly more relieved by the sudden lack of need for pretenses. He settled on a balance between the two, a patronizingly superior expression slowly dawning on his face. In the depths of his eyes, however, there was a hardened, dangerous gleam manifesting with slow precision. He could only guess what it was that she was guarding so protectively in her pocket, so Pearce felt it only fair that he even the score a bit. In an almost mocking parody of those cop movies in which a police officer "subtly" reveals the fact that he's armed, Pearce adjusted his jacket, moving the hem back a bit so that the butt of his Smith & Wesson was visible. He kept his gaze firmly latched with her own, a tiny, humorless smile quirking his lips for a quick moment. "Just as long as we understand each other," he replied, his voice low and full of insinuation. "You could try to be a bit more amiable." Pearce's feet carried him a step closer. "I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility." Another stride brought him nearer. "Yet."

[SocialMisfit]

Rose Lee Peace

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, spitting fire when she saw the butt of his gun. Yep. Just like Juan, came the thought.

"Just as long as we understand each other," he said suggestively. A mocking smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"You should really meet an old aquaintance of mine; Juan Miguel de Silva. Yeah, you two would get along great," came the acid reply.

The man took a step closer, and Rose shifted away from him. "You could try to be a bit more amiable. I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility..." He said, taking another step, a tiny smile on his face. "Yet."

Rose's mouth and expression twisted, her lips pulling back over her gleaming white teeth, resembling a wolf's grimace. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" she snarled menacingly. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest availiable object, and that's a promise!" she snapped. There was no way in Hell she was going to have to endure being raped again, and she'd go at any lenghts to make sure of it.

"You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means," she snarled again, ready to attack.

[Daroga]

Phoenix Mercer

Oh no... That had been her first thought when her cellphone had started ringing. Phoenix always carried her phone. But in the time since she had left home she had only used it once. This small electronic device was her concession to her parents concerns. She had gotten it on the understanding that it was to be used for emergencies only. She would contact and update them to her travels when and if she could. If they abused it they knew she would turn it off. But she hadn't turned it off because she knew this call was coming. Every day since the gala she had expected it. So when the metallic ring started as she carried an arm load of props to the stage, Phoenix didn't have to guess why they were calling. She ignored the tone, rushed to the stage and unceremonious dropped her armload. Then, ignoring the perpetual tone rushed to a quieter place. Finally she found herself in the seldom used stables and cringed as the ringing began again.

“Hello,” she said trying to speak softly with out whispering even thought she was alone, a dead giveaway that she was hiding something. “Phoenix Orris Nirvana Mercer,” the cold of the stables around her was nothing compared to the chill that ricocheted through her at the sound of her full name from her mother’s lips in the disturbingly calm tone she only used when she was gearing up for a major fight and was trying not to lose her temper to soon. That was actually a trick Phoenix wished she had mastered, she had her inherited her mother’s temper and willingness to fight, but not this ability to keep it in check, though it didn’t fool her even slightly and she pulled her bare legs up into the chair holding them close and preparing herself for one of the less fun conversations of her life. “Mrs. Brannock sends her reguards,” her mother said in a mockingly flippant tone and before she could stop herself Phoneix retorted, “That old gossip? What does she want—“ she closed her eyes and groaned silently having just answered her own question and able to hear her mother’s victorious expression.

“Well…” she said drawing out the word as though preparing to launch her opening statement, “it seems like she’s not the only gossip on the planet who would have a few words for you. Can you imagine our surprise when she tells us how surprised she was to see you in a designer dress, and then casual mentions that it was only half as surprising as seeing you in a dead man’s cheating arms.” Phoenix’s eyes bugged slightly as her jaw and her stomach dropped. The only thing that kept her from snapping back in Luc’s defense was the fact that it would only exacerbate the problem . “Mother,” she said through gritted teeth, “don’t you think there’s a bit more to it than that?” she challenged. “Oh, I’m well aware,” she replied her calm starting to waver, “I had quite an interesting morning reading all about, though I admit I was a bit distracted by the pictures of you cramming your tongue down his throat in front of half of the Parisian press!” Phoenix had to pull the phone away from her head slightly as her phone trilled when her mother finally broke into a scream. “He’s practically a married man,” she went on and Phoenix felt herself sinking deeper into submission, “what are you thinking?! I know we raised you better than that!” There was nothing for her to say that her mother would be in the mood to hear. “And don’t even get me started on the faking his death bull****! Who does that?” she exclaimed clearly ready to be started on it regardless of what she said. Phoenix braced herself against a stall wall preparing herself from the tirade about to come.

[Erik]

Luc Danier

Luc hurried into the stables, long since abandoned by the managers of the opera house, in search of the newest stagehand at the Opera Populaire, Phoenix Mercer. She wasn't just the best stagehand that had ever worked under him, but she was also the only stagehand that he had ever wanted under him, in a very different sense of the word. Phoenix was a highly intelligent, resourcefull, and entirely intriguing woman that Luc had been seen giving quite the controversal kiss to. It had been in part due to the fact that the ravenous wolves that liked to call themselves 'press' were going to make it seem as though the kiss had happened anyway, but mostly because Luc was absolutely infatuated with the woman whom he had escorted down the red carpet of the Anniversary Gala. It had caused quite a stir considering his engagement to the star soprano Adeline Devereux that had been left hanging when he had been presumably killed. If anyone had bothered asking for the real story from Luc, if by the off chance he would ever actually tell anyone anyway, he would have made it known that his relationship with Adeline was over and that he was just prolonging the inevitable. He would have also made it known that Phoenix was not some worker he was heating the sheets with, but someone that meant a lot to Luc, and they hadn't even slept together. Wanted to? Yes. Actually carried out the action? No.

But he didn't care about all of that now. It seemed so far away considering what had happened to him in an abandoned house across town the night before. He had been beaten, abused physically and verbally in the plight to obtaine usefull information about his brother, who's shady past, it would seem, was catching up with him. The thought that scared him concerning Phoenix was that their relationship had been publicised and blown up to seem as though they were a hop skip and a step away from being engaged, thanks to the rabid coyotes, and if Pearce Rowe would attempt to kill Luc in order to get mere information about Jean, why would he stop at doing anything to Phoenix in revenge for Luc walking free (or, rather, running for his life). The only reason he hadn't found Phoenix before now was because he had to make sure Isabella had gotten home safely. Now it was early the next day, and he was running around the areas of the opera house that were fairly deserted in order to avoid questions, these places conveniently being ones that Phoenix would find something interesting to do in. When he had been unsuccessfull, Luc had stumbled upon one of his workers, who told him that the stagehand he was looking for was last seen heading in the direction of the stables.

And so, when he stood in front of her at last, bruised and bloodied from not having even been to the hospital or even least Pieter, Luc's left hand grabbed her arm gently. He was pretty sure his right one was broken by the pain he felt from it. "Phoenix!" he said, relieved to see her and know that she was alright, before realizing that she was on a cell phone with someone. He frowned in annoyance, knowing that what he had to tell Phoenix was infinitely more important than anything anyone on the line with her could be talking about, and he took the phone from her without any sort of request for approval. He heard a woman's voice, cold and angry at the same time, chastisizing Phoenix for her behaviour at the Anniversary Gala. Pleasure to meet you too, he thought before interrupting Phoenix's mother, whom he assumed it was based on how this older woman was speaking to whom she thought was Phoenix, as she was in the middle of a sentance about what a horrible person he was. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said impatiently, stopping her mid-sentance, "but I am the disrespectfully arrogant ass, and I need to speak to your daughter right now so Phoenix is going to have to call you back." He hit the button to disconnect the call, and tossed Phoenix her phone before pulling her into one armed hug, then giving her a frantic kiss before she could have a chance to yell at him for what he had just done. Though most people would avoid yelling at someone as beat up as he was, he couldn't tell if Phoenix would pity his injuries or threaten worse ones. His thoughts were racing wildly as he tried to find the best way to tell her that she had to get out of town no questions asked. His blood was pumping furiously, his head was pounding harder than it ever had before, and now that he had seen that Phoenix was okay he found his body wanting to shut down and sleep more than it wanted to move. He swayed slightly, before using Phoenix to steady himself. "You have to get out of Paris now," he stated weakly, fully expecting her to ignore him entirely and press about how he had gotten into this state, as was her nature. Despite his desperation being evident in his expression, Luc tried to stay calm so that she would have no reason to panic, even though he found the idea superfluous considering his current physical condition.

[The Khanum]

Rose Lee Peace

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, spitting fire when she saw the butt of his gun. Yep. Just like Juan, came the thought.

"Just as long as we understand each other," he said suggestively. A mocking smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"You should really meet an old acquaintance of mine; Juan Miguel de Silva. Yeah, you two would get along great," came the acid reply.

The man took a step closer, and Rose shifted away from him. "You could try to be a bit more amiable. I haven't done anything to merit such...hostility..." He said, taking another step, a tiny smile on his face. "Yet."

Rose's mouth and expression twisted, her lips pulling back over her gleaming white teeth, resembling a wolf's grimace. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" she snarled menacingly. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest available object, and that's a promise!" she snapped. There was no way in Hell she was going to have to endure being raped again, and she'd go at any lengths to make sure of it.

"You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means," she snarled again, ready to attack.

Pearce Rowe

Pearce was beginning to wonder if this one was worth the hassle. Judging by the gleam in her eyes, she wasn't about to roll over and play dead. Which was a pity, because Pearce's patience was wearing thin and he really wasn't up for a lot of effort put into one good lay. And effort, it would seem, was what this slag would be requiring.

Once he took his daring step nearer, the brunette visibly tensed, full lips pulling back so that they were no more than a thin line stretched across brilliant white teeth. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" Pearce resisted the urge to roll his black eyes, now feeling rather annoyed with the results of his endeavor. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest available object, and that's a promise!" Castration. No matter how many times he heard that threat, it would always send a brief twinge of imaginary pain down between his legs. Still, to Pearce is was an overused promise, and he would have appreciated something a little more original. "You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means."

This made Pearce's eyebrows quirk upwards, and he wondered if maybe she was a bit masochistic, telling him to go ahead and shoot her. "You talk an awful lot," he commented in an unenthusiastic drawl, folding his arms over his chest as he surveyed her. "You're making the urge to go ahead and put a bullet in your head a lot more tempting than any other urges in which I might have considered indulging previously." Pearce leaned against a wooden post, lip curling briefly as he paused to brush a bit of dust off his sleeve before reaching inside the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he waved the box in her direction in a vague offer to share and then lit the tip of his own with a lighter that had magically appeared in his hand. Normally smoking in a stable made of wood would have been quite unintelligent, but the air was thick and humid with moisture because of the approaching storm, and frankly Pearce was too irritated to care much about fire safety.

He turned back to her, brow cocked as their eyes met, black with gray and gold. "Not only that, you're being rather stupid. I doubt the little butter knife or whatever the hell you have in that pocket of yours is much in comparison to my artillery, and yet there you are, spouting off threats and making assumptions about me." Pearce took a deep drag of his cigarette, a condescending smirk forming on his lips. "And you know what they say about assumptions."

[Daroga]

Phoenix Mercer

Phoenix was chewing her bottom lip fitfully. Part of her just wanted this verbal abuse to be over, or at least for a moment to come where she could interject anything against the stem of her mother's discontent. But a larger part of her was having to beat back the desire to scream in frustration and explain to her mother just how wrong she was, at the top of lungs. Problem was it was hard to be mad at her mother for making the same accusations that she had of Luc. Especially when her anger was tempered by the guilt that she had neglected to mention anything about her 'supervisor' to her parents in the times she had talked to them since the evening at L'Arpege. It wasn't that she was ashamed of him, only that she hadn't been looking forward to the explanations that were now going to be so much harder. Her mother took a moment to catch her breath in her tirade and Phoenix plucked up the courage to interject as calmly as possible that--

Phoenix gave a strangled, startled gasp at the feel of a hand on her arm. "Phoenix!" Luc said in a mixed tone of panic and great relief. At the sound of her name her mother's voice on the end of the line found new fervor, Who's that! Don't tell me that the disrespectful lying.... But Phoneix has stopped paying attention to the phone that she now held limply, the disconnected voice echoing distantly as the device drifted away from her ear. At the sound of his voice her first impulse had been to clamp a hand over his mouth before he could say anything further to incriminate himself. At the first sight of his face though she found herself unable to move. She couldn't even rouse herself from her stupor to protest when he unceremoniously plucked the phone from her hand. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said boldly and Phoenix felt all the blood drain from her face. "but I am the disrespectfully arrogant ass, and I need to speak to your daughter right now so Phoenix is going to have to call you back." Her jaw dropped slightly more. No one ever talked to her mother that way. She had fought tooth and nail for the respect she had earned. To say she was defensive of it would have been a gross understatement. To say that she was going to be more pissed when Phoenix called her back would also have been an understatement. Deep down she knew that half a world away there was a fight starting to simmer that held the potential to go off like an atomic bomb. She also knew that she was more than a bit relieved that the conversation had ended.

The stupor of surprise that had overtaken her was broken as she numbly caught the phone he casually toss her and quickly scrambled to turn off the power before the shrill ringing could recommence. "Luc--" she started in a baffled and concerned tone before he pulled her in tightly to a one armed hug and her words were silenced by a sloppy and frantic kiss. Reflexively she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck but couldn't bring herself to complete the embrace. He was a pulverized mess, battered and broken and some instinctive concern was almost afraid to touch for fear of doing more harm. He sway slightly on spot and without thinking she reached out to wrap an arm around his waist, unbridled fear threatening to overtake her mind. "You have to get out of Paris now," he said, his voice weak but his tone authoritative. Only Luc would be hard-headed and stupid enough to try to give her order when he could barely stand up.

"Are you kidding me?!" she scoffed in wounded disbelief even as she attempted to guide him to sit leaning against the stall wall. "What I have to do now is take care of you," she stated firmly. "Why does your face look like you put it through a meat grinder?" she asked still trying to beat back the dizzying adrenaline of horror at the even closer inspection of his injuries. Since she'd gotten to know him better she had, on occasion, given morose thought as to his accident but she never questioned it. Now it was like she was staring at a picture worse than some of the worst she had managed to imagine. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you like this," she pleaded as much as she demanded as tears of alarm crept into her eyes and she cringed as she ran her thumb lightly across his cheek, smearing blood.

[Erik]

Luc Danier

Luc considered it safe to say that Phoenix was baffled by everything happening around her. Luc had taken her phone away while apparently fighting with her mother, talked disrespectfully to the woman he had never met before (though in all fairness she was talking disrespectfully to him first, and just didn't know it -- she thought she was talking disrespectfully about him), and had promptly hung up. And he had done all this directly after stumbling into the stables looking exactly how he felt, with no explination whatsoever yet. He couldn't blame Phoenix for the way her face turned an unnatural pale when he had grabbed her phone, or for the way she looked at him in disbelief for his injuries, or even for how while he could not hug her fully because of his bad arm, she could not hug him fully because she was scared to. And really, who wouldn't be? He was an absolute mess from top to bottom, dried blood on his face and clothes, and bleeding still from a few head wounds. He feared his arm was broken, which would hinder his work no doubt, and he was sure that due to his concussion he had no buisness standing anywhere, let alone here. He should be in a hospital bed swearing as nurses disinfected his wounds and doctors prodded his many bruises, but he couldn't go anywhere until he knew that Phoenix was far away where no one could find her, completely safe from any harm that could come her way due to his or his brother's actions, both the night before or whatever Jean had done years ago to deserve the animosity of a cruel character such as Pearce Rowe.

"Are you kidding me?!" came the passionate reply of Phoenix, who apparently had no intentions of going anywhere. She led him to the wall to lean against, which he was gratefull for, though he was too focused on her well being to focus on taking care of himself for himself. "What I have to do now is take care of you," Phoenix told him, her tone unshakeable. "Why does your face look like you put it through a meat grinder?" Luc winced, not because he was offended by her comment considering he was sure it really did look like he had been in a losing fight with a meat grinder, but because his head throbbed intensely, and he longed to sleep until he was completely healed. He felt dizzy, and logically deduced that on top of everything he was most likely dehydrated. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you like this," she told him, and he noted that while she wasn't asking if she could stay by any means, she wasn't entirely ignoring that he wanted her to go. He looked at her directly in the eyes, and saw the tears forming in them, and every ache, pain, or potentially fatal wound that Pearce and his henchman could possibly cause to his exhausted body could never hope to rival the pain his heart felt when he saw tears in Phoenix Mercer's eyes. Don't cry, I'm here, I'm alive, he wanted to tell her, but he knew that he couldn't. If he had any hope of her leaving town on the next train out of there, Phoenix would have to be scared. Her thumb caressed his cheek, and even her gentle touch made his skin scream in protest. "You have to go, Phoenix," he repeated, his voice raspy from a night of yelling at Pearce not to touch Isabella, and lack of water. "Please... if you have never trusted me on anything else, trust me in this. You have to leave right away or you could end up like me." His grave tone told her that he was not exaggerating in the slightest, and he felt an unfamiliar stinging at the back of his eyes at the mere thought of the slightest scratch on her because he couldn't get her to leave in time. He put his hands on her shoulders, unwittingly transfering his blood on the shoulders of her shirt in the process, unable to look away from her.

Pretty soon, he knew, he would be searching for any sign of his brother to make sure he was okay, and he did not want to have that same heart-wrenching search for Phoenix as well. He thought, briefly, that he had gone looking for Phoenix as soon as he had made it from the abandoned house he had been in and to the opera house without a stop at so much as a crosswalk, and would be directly leaving to search for Jean as soon as he convinced Phoenix to leave, and would therefore not get to so much as a bed, let alone a hospital bed, before god knew when. Already weakened, he hoped that he could find Jean before his body proved itself to be inferior to his mind and he passed out. He realized that the longer it took him to get Phoenix to leave, the longer he would wait to find his brother, and he would therefore have to give her something more than an order or she would never go. "I've just come from getting the **** beat out of me for something my brother did that apparently pissed some people off. And if they can do this to me for a phone number, I don't want to find out what they can do to you because they might know we're together," he said, unhappy about having to say that they were together, not because he didn't feel as though it were true but because they had never talked about it before, and he didn't want this to be the moment they defined anything. It was true though -- the kiss that was apparently seen around the world would have surely been seen by two men in Paris trying to be average despite the fact that they were heartless killers. "Just trust me," he pleaded desperately, focusing on trying not to fall on top of her, "and go to the train station and catch the next one going anywhere." His tired eyes stared into her concerned ones, and he wished he could hold her and just not let go until everything was back the way it should be.

[Daroga]

Phoenix Mercer

Once when she had been very young she had proposed to her friend Ryan that they be the ones to stand up to the class bullies even though the bully was twice her size, and her friend even smaller than she was. In the end one of the bully's friend had ended up sitting on her while Ryan received a few punches to the stomach and a black eye. Though she had only been seven at the time the moment had stood out as most helpless she had ever felt, and was exactly the feeling she rebelled against every time she picked a fight. That moment had finally been trumped. "You have to go, Phoenix," Luc said in a weak and raspy voice that she would have barely recognized as his if she hadn't watched him speak the words and made her heart break painfully. All she could manage in response was to stubbornly shake her head and try not to look too weak and pathetic in the face of his pain. "Please... if you have never trusted me on anything else, trust me in this. You have to leave right away or you could end up like me." Her breath caught slightly, eyes growing wide with a terrified horror, before she caught herself and bit down hard on her lip and averting her embarrassed gaze she wanted to pretend like it didn't matter, that the idea wasn't filling her with the impulse to run away like a frightened child but she was scared. Scared that this face she had been daydreaming about could be so mutilated so easily, shaken by the gravity of his tone.

"Of course I trust you, you moron," she said attempting to chastise him teasingly for his doubt in her faith in him. But her smile was wane and forced as a few stray tears snuck past her resolve to slide down her cheeks. Phoenix gave up on smiling as her chest felt tight and throat tight at the effort to try and not appear as terrified and shaken as she felt. “But please,” she pleaded, “don’t ask me to…” her voice faded away weakly as his hands fell on her shoulders and she stepped in closer to the touch. She could feel him leaning on her slightly and hands trembling wearily. Reflexively she stood a bit straighter and taller willing him to lean on her, thankful for any small way that she could help him. "I've just come from getting the **** beat out of me for something my brother did that apparently pissed some people off. And if they can do this to me for a phone number, I don't want to find out what they can do to you because they might know we're together." It was a nauseating feeling to have her heart leap and stomach plummet in the same instant. What they meant to each other had remained undefined since they had first met. At that point it had been easily defined, employer and employee clearly hostile with each other. But as things had changed she hadn’t bothered to try and make him define it, curious as she was. She was content simply enjoy it. Now she had her definition, her verbal proof that he felt for her like she did for him, but the context only succeeded to make that affection feel like a burden she had put on him. "Just trust me," it was his turn to plead, staring at her with desperate intensity, "and go to the train station and catch the next one going anywhere."

She had fought with him enough to know when she was gaining an advantage and when she was losing one, but this was the first time she’d ever felt like she’d already lost. Phoenix stayed quiet for a long deliberating moment staring unflinchingly back into his eyes and willing herself not to see the bruises and cuts on the rest of his face or feel the way his right arm was trembling almost violently on her shoulder. “Come with me,” her voice was barely a whisper but the frantic spinning of her mind carried through her tone. “Yes… together,” Let’s be together, let’s leave Paris together,” her voice picked up in volume and hope, “We’ll go find your friend who put you back together after…” unable to bring herself to bring up his last accident she quickly skipped over it, “and then we’ll leave.” She searched his face desperately. If he really was in as much danger as he claimed there was only one way she could see leaving this city without being drenched in soul crushing worry and guilt was if he were with her. “I don’t care where we go, Switzerland, London, Madrid, maybe we’ll just pick at random. I don’t care… but you can’t honestly expect me to just go sightseeing or act like a tourist if you’re here with someone willing to do this,” she said with a cringing glance over his face and blood stained clothes, “for a phone number.” Phoenix pressed the palms of her hands into the stall wall behind him to resist the temptation to embrace or cling to him. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him gently, unaware that the panic had made her frightened tears fall freely.

[Erik]

OOC: If it's a bit awkward I wrote half of the ending first so that's why it may not flow well :p BIC:

Luc Danier

"Of course I trust you, you moron," Phoenix said, and he tried to smile back at her but pain twisted it into a grimace. A few tears escaped and Luc wished there was an easy way to make them stop. He was appreciative for the wall behind his back that supported him, the stress from this conversation with Phoenix taking even more of his already depleted energy from him. “But please, don’t ask me to…” Phoenix trailed off before she could finish her sentance when Luc had placed his arms on her shoulders, and he noticed with admiration that she made herself straighter and sturdier for his benefit. It was hard asking someone who would do that for you without a word to go away as quickly as possible. After he told her the barest form of what had happened the night before, mere hours ago, she stared intently into his eyes, and he stared right back. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was as scared as she looked, if she had wished that he hadn't come and found her at all. It really depended on how she felt about him -- surely, she felt affection for him, but enough to leave unexpectedly because he told her that someone who had hurt him could hurt her as well? And how deep did her pride run? Enough to think that if she stayed in town and looked over her shoulder now and then, she would be fine? Did she trust him enough to listen to him, and just do what he said so that he could make sure she was safe, or did she think that she should disobey him so that she could look after him and go to the hospital like he should (and most likely would not if left up to himself). He hoped with everything inside of him that she would listen, or he just might be forced to find a way to keep her safe in this city that had just become dangerous.

His hands shook, and he felt his own warm, sticky blood sliding out of his headwound where Pearce's gun had connected, and he thought that he would have to find Pieter before he did anything else, or he woulnd't be able to do anything else. He clenched his teeth against the fatigue and pain that was raging through his body, willing himself to focus only on her eyes, which were swimming in tears of panic and fear. “Come with me,” she said, and he almost didn't hear her softly spoken order. He stayed silent, lost in his thoughts, her voice, and her eyes, three things that were distracting him from his own injuries. “Yes… together. Let’s be together, let’s leave Paris together,” she added, her voice becoming louder and more animated by the thought of getting on the train he was begging her to, but sitting next to him on it. “We’ll go find your friend who put you back together after…” There was a breif pause as she avoided mentioning his accident, which seemed so small in comparison at the moment. “and then we’ll leave.” This was the most appealing offer that could have ever been made to him, and his eyes softened as he thought of taking her away from danger and straight to the pyramids of Egypt, the Parthenon in Greece, or the glittering waters off the coast of Ireland. "I don’t care where we go, Switzerland, London, Madrid, maybe we’ll just pick at random. I don’t care… but you can’t honestly expect me to just go sightseeing or act like a tourist if you’re here with someone willing to do this," she said in reference to him and all of his injuriesin general, "for a phone number.” Phoenix's hands leaned on the wall behind Luc, and she stood on her toes to give him a gentle kiss.

Luc Danier had never been a lucky person. His history had proven this, time and time again, and quite frankly he was sick of it. So why shouldn't he go with Phoenix to anywhere they wanted in the world? Jean had told him to leave, so he would leave, and he would follow Phoenix to the end of the world, to Canada, even, if she so chose. It would be easy to get medical leave from work, something it looked like he would have to do anyway, to pack a bag with everything he would need and let her lead the way until the heat died down. Considering the state he was in at the moment, and that he felt like hell, he was seriously considering it. He had deserved to run away with someone who could make him smile and mean it every day, and he had gotten little luck in Paris. Maybe he just needed to throw down his ties and hit the road with Phoenix. Why not? he asked himself, but he already knew the answer. He couldn't. Jean would need him, and Luc would need to be there. The second Phoenix left, he would be out the door looking for Jean, so he was forced by his own morals to stay put. "I..." he started, trying to tell her he couldn't go, but the words didn't make out. Of course Jean would need help, but didn't Jean specifically not tell Luc that he was in Paris again, for the sole purpose of keeping him away from exactly what had happened a few hours earlier? Every fresh tear Phoenix cried made Luc want to say yes, he would go with her right then and there, and he reasoned that there was nothing Jean would want more than to have Luc go with her, away from the dangers that had rooted themselves in Paris. And he knew that if he went with her, he would know that she was okay and could be no more than a few seconds away from her. "Okay," he said, kissing her lightly, "let's leave tonight, anywhere you want." He gingerly touched the back of his head, and glanced at his freshly bloodied hand. He would defenitely need to fix that first. "But before we pack we may need to find Pieter Lachen and get this sewed up," he said weakly, before promptly closing his eyes and dropping to the ground in an unconcious bloodied mess.

[Daroga]

OOC: Did anyone see all those rules Jon broke with this post? I sure didn’t. *innocent look* I beg mercy on high since it’s been a very short scene for a very good cause… Technically Phoenix isn’t here because Pieter’s back… so here in the earlier posts is just an illusion… and yeah I didn’t wait two posts between switching between Pieter and the charries not here because I wanted to trespass as little as possible *nods* That logic is as convoluted as possible and if you can understand it I’ll give you a cookie… BIC:

Phoenix Mercer

Maybe kissing him at that moment was a sign of desperation. Desperate to remind herself that no matter how horrifically broken he appeared he was still intact, more or less, and standing before her. Not yet a walking corpse but a wounded man. But perhaps it was a wordless plea to try and convince him to resign to her request. She had never been the kind of girl to consider using sexuality or anything of the sort to try to win favor, making it all the more clear how desperate she was. For a moment she indulged in the hope that no matter how deplorable the tactic that it might have actually worked, but her hopes fell as his gaze hardened with resolve, resolve that did not seem to be in her favor. "I..." he started and she braced herself for his reasoning or once again pleading as to why she just had to go. He didn’t finish the sentence and she cringed slightly. Like pulling off a band-aid. If it was going to be the verdict that crushed her heart she would prefer to hear it straight out without any more dancing around. Phoenix had always been a big believer that there exist in each person a power and a strength that even they were unaware of until the moment they needed it most. She had drawn from it the day she decided to leave home and not look back until she found the answers she needed for herself, and she was trying to summon it now, she was going to need it if she was going to do what he asked. Leaving Paris wasn’t the hard part. Before she had gotten to know the battered man before her she had been ready to do it at a moment’s notice, and her frustration with him had nearly driven her to it on more than a few occasions. But she had never foreseen doing it like this. Leaving her heart in Paris to go travelling a world that would suddenly seem very gray and empty, with him plaguing her thoughts through perpetual concern and not by her side.

"Okay," he said quite suddenly as he covered her mouth that had fallen open slightly in shock with his own. "Let's leave tonight, anywhere you want." Phoenix gave a gasping laugh of relieved surprise. She had been so certain he was going to turn her down that this acceptance was a like a sudden and wonderful dream she scarely dared to believe. “Anywhere,” she repeated nearly giddy with the alleviation of her fears. Without realizing she was even doing it she was already creating daydreams of the places they could go, the journey before them taking shape in her mind more as a fantastic vacation than fleeing for their lives. Maybe a bit of an extreme of a bright side to look on, but considering the dark side it contrasted it would have to be. She was already thinking of the travel guides she had with her and wondering where all he had been before and figuring out who she could get to watch the stuff she couldn’t take with her but hadn’t bothered to ship home yet. She was drawn from her mesmerizing fantasy as he winced and drew his hand from the back of his head, fingertips glistening with fresh crimson blood. "But before we pack we may need to find Pieter Lachen and get this sewed up," he said weakly and even before his voice died out his eyes had closed and he was swaying dangerously. With her palms pressed against the wall behind him it was only natural for her to reach out grab him, wrapping her arms tightly around his upper arms as he slumped heavily against her, the sudden unexpected weight dragging them both to the floor strewn with old hay. “Luc!” came her startled, muffled call as lay stunned beneath his unmoving form. She had imagined being in this position with him more times that she could admit without blushing, but never like this.

As quickly and carefully as she could manage Phoenix extricated herself from under him, trying desperately not to injure him further as the panic began to mount. “No, no, no… “ she muttered as she crouched on her knees next to him shaking him gently. “Please wake up, “ she pleaded. “Wake up you stubborn ass…” she said frantically desperately hoping he would look at her and give her one of those ridiculous smiles he wore when he was teasing her, trying to will his unconsciousness into a joke he was playing at her expense. When nothing happened she fumbled with his wrist for a few moments before giving up on her ability to find a pulse and laying her ear directly against his chest. There was a heartbeat. It was a faint but steady thump. She breathed a deep sigh of relief sitting back on her ankles and running her fingers through her hair, trying to get a grip. Okay, he was still breathing and still alive, but obviously in need of some help that she didn’t have the first clue how to provide. Phoenix chewed he lip for a brief moment before making her decision and springing to action. She kissed him on the forehead, muttering ironically, “Don’t move…” before jumping to her feet and racing for the door.


~*~*~


Pieter Lachen

Pieter hummed to himself as he went about his work. He wasn’t really chipper, it was just a habit he had picked up from spending too much time with Maureen that he drifted into when his mind wandered separate from his actions. He was almost done cleaning the boys wounds, it was quite routine work actually. Granted he hadn’t found it quite found this duty as serene when he had first arrived as he did now. The young woman who had shown up at the clinic demanding of him if anyone there knew Pieter Lachen had nearly dragged him away when he had identified himself. She turned out to be surprisingly strong when motivated and it had taken legitimate effort to wrench himself out of her grasp to gather what was going on as he had collected his bag. At the mention of Luc Danier’s name his stomach had clenched painfully with a reflexive image of the last time the young man had needed his assistance. Fortunately what he had found, when she had lead him at a break neck pace into the old stables, was not nearly as bad as the injuries that had almost claimed his life. But that by no means made them good. The first thing he had done after quickly assessing the boy’s condition was to go about the business of setting what he could only assume was stress fracture and partially dislocated shoulder without a proper x-ray. The crunching sound of bone on bone had made Luc’s young lady friend turn an unsightly shade of green and look faint. Fortunately his patient had only stirred for a single moment of convulsion at the pain before returning to the blissful slumber of that weary battered and bruised. At that point it wasn’t hard to convince her to excuse them, and she’d hurried off muttering about a quick return and something about packing. Pieter had the decency to wait til she was gone to start cleaning out some of the large wounds and begin stitching up the deep gashes. The sight of a needle through skin he had discovered was a breaking point for many weak stomachs.

After that his work had been fairly simple matter of cleaning wounds and applying bandages. There wasn’t much he could do for the bruises and he knew from experience that his friend’s younger brother was twice as stubborn as the elder and just as tough. He had every faith he would be fine with a little rest. Unfortuantely he couldn’t afford to allow him much more of that at the moment and pulled from his bag a bottle of water and a smaller one of smelling salts. He cringed slightly himself as the smell from the small bottle whafted up to him as he passed it beneath the younger man’s nose. “Time to wake up Danier,” he called loudly hastily putting the top back on the bottle as he began to rouse and the scent started to bring faint tears to his eyes. “You could just invite me to dinner,” he said teasingly at he sat back more comfortably in the thin layer of straw. “We really don’t have to keep meeting like this.”

[Erik]

Luc Danier

When Luc was unconcious he was dreaming of what was most prevalent to his mind. He was staring out of a window, on a train that was moving very fast. The sun was shining and all he could see were brilliant shades of green and gold and brown as the train sped past the sunlit trees. A warm hand was placed on his leg and he looked over to see the most beautiful smile he had ever witnessed in his life. He smiled back at her, feeling his heart swell with joy. He felt like he could stay in this moment forever, though little did he know his body would have preferred so too. He was denied the pleasure of sleep when through his reveries the most unpleasent smell invaded his nose. He recoiled at the hideouse scent, and against his every desire he felt his eyes flutter open while he came to his senses, feeling naseated from the smelling salts and his throbbing head, which had reached a record persistance. “Time to wake up Danier,” a familiar, heavily accented voice told him, and he looked with watery eyes to find the face to the voice but could not bring himself to lift his head. "No..." Luc moaned, closing his eyes again. "No s'not. Sleep," he said, wanting to slip back into his easy, carefree dream. There he didn't have to deal with his brother's enemies hunting him down for information, or women he had yet to tell he wasn't engaged to anymore, or bossing around half brained stagehands and yelling at the ballet rats that the backstage area was not a gossip hall. All he had to think about in his dreams was Phoenix Mercer. Phoenix! the stagehand thought suddenly, and tried to sit up and see where she was. He couldn't remember anything past when he had closed his eyes, and he therefore hadn't even realized he'd fallen, let alone where she'd gone. His brother's old friend looked over him, Luc winced and layed back down. He had half sat up before quitting. "Phoenix?" he asked, not particularily feeling like forming complete or coherant sentances, and he hoped that the doctor would tell him where she was so that he could find her again.

“You could just invite me to dinner,” the German native doctore teased him, “We really don’t have to keep meeting like this.” Luc managed a halfhearted smile, as the last time he had met Pieter had been when he had had the unfortunate luck of being on the buisness end of a crashed chandelier. "Believe you me, I would much rather buy you more steak than you can eat than do this every time I see you," he assured bitterly, not even wanting to think about the number of scars that he had recieved from both times Pieter Lachen had taken excellent care of him. He was just happy that he knew and was friends with Lachen, as he completely detested hospitals and, worse, hospital gowns and food. He tried sitting up again, this time successful, and instead of applause for his efforts he heard the roar of his stomache. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? Or drank anything? He looked at his stomache before giving himself a small shrug. Getting him healthy by feeding him would be one thing he would leave to Phoenix, if for no other reason than he wanted to make sure she felt like she was helping. He knew that she would be helping regardless of what she did just by being there, but he was sure she wouldn't feel the same. "So, how are you?" Luc asked in a mocking conversational tone as though they had just bumped into each other on the street somewhere.

[Daroga]

Pieter Lachen

Pieter knew Philippe Sauveur. He had met with him several times and considered him a dear friend independent of his affection for the man's oldest son. On more than one occasion he had regretted that his mother had never met the man as they would have surely been very fast friends. Philippe was tirelessly patient, calm and understanding, with a gentle wisdom and kind humor that never ceased to amaze. So Pieter couldn't help but wonder how both of his sons had come by such a deeply entrenched capacity to be a stubborn, bull-headed asses that presumed to know what was best for themselves, and more often than not others as well, in nearly every situation. "Believe you me," Luc assured him with a weak attempt at a smile at his joke, "I would much rather buy you more steak than you can eat than do this every time I see you." And it seemed his sarcasm and bitter humor were both still in tact. The two traits untied the two of them more then any of the usual genetic markers of hair or eye color, and seemed to him a fair sign that he was in fact still himself. It was an amusing moment to ponder if either of them realize this commonality as the young man, stubbornly refusing to show the obvious pain it must caused him, pushed himself into a sitting position. Knowing there was nothing to do to stop him Pieter simply watched him with a bemused smile.

Pieter quirked an eyebrow at the loud protest of his stomach. Appetite also not injured. Despite the bruises and battery he seemed to be as close a replica of a typical young man as he could be hoped for, especially considering that his first thought on waking had been for the pretty brunette that had hutned Pieter down. Prognosis... he was going to be just fine. "So, how are you?" Luc asked in a ridiculous, ironically causal tone that a booming, barking laugh from the doctor. He was going to be recover alright, but not quite that quickly. "Mich?!" he said with a slightly scoffing laugh, "I'm good, much better than you at least," he said still smiling. "Fractured arm, dislocated shouler, a few bruised ribs no doubt, four stitches to that cut on the back of your head," he cataloged before grinning wryly. "Don't worry it shouldn't leave much of a scar or effect your hair style, but then again the way you wear your hair, who could tell?" he said with jesting ease eyes sparkling mischeiveoulsy. He simply smiled in the company of his friend for a moment before saying quietly and seriously. "Your friend couldn't or wouldn't tell me much of what happened. All she said was that you got in a fight... and something about your brother. I don't suppose you would care to enlighten me?" Technically speaking he didn't ahve much of right to ask. They were family and for both of them he knew that would always come first. But Pieter and the elder Sauveur had been looking out for one another for many years now, he felt as though he were part of this family. Could he make Luc understand that enough to trust him, and tell him what was going on before he had to give sway to the concern building in the back of his mind?

[Erik]

Luc Danier

"Mich?!" Pieter exclaimed in German, with a laugh, "I'm good, much better than you at least." Luc tried not to smile, but Pieter's laughing visage was more than a little infectious, and he offered a halfhearted grin at the only doctor he knew that he trusted with his life, twice and counting, apparently. "Fractured arm, dislocated shouler, a few bruised ribs no doubt, four stitches to that cut on the back of your head," Pieter said, listing his various injuries. Bruised ribs are fairly defenite, he thought to himself, considering standing because sitting up was painful and uncomfortable. He resisted for the moment because he would rather not fall again, and wanted to give himself a moment to collect himself before attempting to become a functioning biped once more. "Don't worry it shouldn't leave much of a scar or effect your hair style, but then again the way you wear your hair, who could tell?" the German doctor observed, and Luc chuckled before he could help himself. It was true after all. He wore his hair in one style -- chaotic. He always had and always would, because he simply couldn't be bothered to find a brush anywhere. So long as it wasn't severely tangled he let it go whichever way it pleased, cutting it only when it interfered with his vision and therefore annoyed him at work. Besides, Phoenix didn't seem to mind it, and that was good enough for him. The stubbourne stagehand wondered again where his employee was, hoping that wherever she was she would come back soon, as he didn't enjoy the idea of her doing anything without him an arms length away until they got out of town. Not that he had proven usefull in defending himself against Pearce, but he was at the time under the influence of whatever that ******* had told the bartender to put in his drink, and therefore tied up before he could even try to escape. He was also confident that if he was faced with the possiblility of Phoenix being harmed he would be able to do whatever was necessary for her to be untouched by the evil acts of Pearce Rowe.

His thoughts were interrupted by Pieter's now oddly seriouse voice. He hadn't heard Pieter be grave before, and he paid particular attention to him now more than ever because of it. "Your friend couldn't or wouldn't tell me much of what happened. All she said was that you got in a fight... and something about your brother. I don't suppose you would care to enlighten me?" Luc thought for a moment if he should get Pieter involved in the goings on of the Abandoned Mansion, and decided that if he was leaving with Phoenix then Jean would need someone who knew what was going on staying in Paris. And who else could he trust if not Pieter Lachen, one of Jean's closest friends, if not the closest friend. He chose his words deliberately so that Pieter would know what he needed to, and Jean could fill him in on the rest. "Jean is in a considerable amount of trouble right now, moreso than me. I don't even know all of the detailes, I didn't even know Jean was back in Paris, but there are men after him. Pearce Rowe and Marcus Dante. They took me to a house somewhere, I'm not sure where, but it looked like it had been empty for some time." Luc purposely omitted the fact that he had been stupidly drunk at the time, because he found that embarassing fact irrelevant. "They called one of my friends, told her some lie to get her down there, and slapped me around a bit. They threatened to rape her and kill us both if I didn't tell them where Jean was, and I figured Jean was an easy few hours away at the very least, so I gave them the number to save her. Turns out he was in town anyway, and saved my ass when he showed up. I got my friend home safe, and I came to find Phoenix so that we could get away quick until it was safe. When Jean had us leave, he was in that house, and that's all I know about where he is now." He stopped talking and tried to stand, almost falling from the physical effort due to his weakness because of the night's events, but managed to stand upright, okay if somewhat dizzy. "Jean told me to leave, and I need to get Phoenix out of town in case something happens. We're leaving as soon as possible... so I need you to make sure he's okay." Luc's fear for his brother was evident in his eyes, and he was nervouse about the moral predicament he was in. Did he do the right thing by deciding to leave? He looked at Pieter for some type of confirmation of this, and chewed his bottom lip in thought.

[Daroga]

Pieter Lachen

For a moment Luc hesitated to respond to Pieter's very direct question and he wondered if he was going to have to try alternate methods of convincing him he was worthy to hear the story. But fortunately he didn't have to stoop to begging or bribing as Luc spoke up with the concentration o being very careful about what he said and how he said it. "Jean is in a considerable amount of trouble right now, moreso than me." Pieter pressed his lips together lightly, pretending for a moment that this was news to him when it was the furthest from it. "I don't even know all of the detailes, I didn't even know Jean was back in Paris," Pieter cringed slightly at yet another secret the brother's had ketp from each other that from the look of the young man's face had done more harm than good, "but there are men after him. Pearce Rowe and Marcus Dante." Pieter's eyes widened slightly. Not only had Jean not managed to keep him out of the dealing he apparently was on a first name basis with the men in question. "They took me to a house somewhere, I'm not sure where, but it looked like it had been empty for some time." Pieter was listening intently his gaze sharp and attentive. He remember Alexander using a similiar description of the place he had had a run in with the evil man. Was it possible that it was the same place? "They called one of my friends, told her some lie to get her down there, and slapped me around a bit. They threatened to rape her and kill us both if I didn't tell them where Jean was," Pieter growled softly and glanced away. This was an unfortunate pattern forming in the man's behavior. One that he had asked Jean about only to be met with a dark look of loathing and no verbal answer. "I figured Jean was an easy few hours away at the very least, so I gave them the number to save her. Turns out he was in town anyway, and saved my ass when he showed up." Pieter smiled and reached out to pat him on the shoulder supportively, making sure it was not the shoulder he had done such grievous injury to. Saving himself, even if it meant giving Jean up would have been what his brother would have wanted, especially if it meant sparing someone else as well.

"I got my friend home safe, and I came to find Phoenix so that we could get away quick until it was safe. When Jean had us leave, he was in that house, and that's all I know about where he is now." Pieter was still turning everything he had been told over in his mind when Luc made a sudden move to stand. He wavered slightly on the attempt and Pieter reache out to catch him if he should fall. But thankfully, and impressively he made it all the way to his feet and Pieter rose to meet him. "Jean told me to leave, and I need to get Phoenix out of town in case something happens. We're leaving as soon as possible... so I need you to make sure he's okay." The unspoken request and assumption hung plainly in the air between them and Pieter smiled solemnly at the young man's intuitive understanding of the nature of his friendship with Jean.

"You know," he said before diving into the topic, "your friend seems very smart. And I think she's a few steps ahead of you. She said she's gone to pack some things. I'm assuming for you trip." He pulled his wallet from his pocket and his prescription pad from the medical bag. On the small tablet he began to make a list from memory. "I'm going to give you my credit card. It would be stupid to use your own and impractical to carry as much cash as you'll need," he said in a casually buisness like manner, "though I do suggest you take plenty of it and I will expect to be paid back," he glanced up with a wink, "I think your family's good for it." He handed over a card and what he'd been writting. It was a list of cities, names, and numbers with more than a dozen entries on it. "These are friends of mine and your brothers. If you need help these people will help you. They won't ask you questions and I suggest you do the same." He bent down to gather up his things that had been scattered in his work. "As for you brother's safety. You haven't told me anything I didn't know before... except perhaps how low this man will actually stoop for what he wants. Though I'm still not certain what that is. But I think Jean knows." Pieter extended a sling he had pulled from his supplied with one hand and extended the other as s sign of pledge. "I never told him the secret you asked me to keep because I had promised you that then. Now I promise you that I will do whatever I can, which is whatever his pride will allow, to help him get through this. So long as you promise to take your friend and keep each other safe."

[Erik]

Luc Danier

In the short time it took Pieter to reply to his story, and the fact that he was leaving with Phoenix until it was sorted, Luc felt a hundred things. He was nervouse, because while he technically knew where Phoenix probably was at that moment -- in her dorm room, packing her necessities -- he could not see her, and had no certainties, and therefore did not know for a fact that she was okay. He thought that while possible, it would be unlikely that anyone would come after her now because they were probably all currently occupied with his brother. This thought unsettled him to a new, hellish plateau. He was scared for Jean, whom he had built unbreakable ties with over the months they had met, and he couldn't bring himself to imagine what was going on in that abandoned mansion right then. True, his brother was a capable ex-hit man who was still more intelligent being than your average five people put together. But there were brutal men after him, two at the very least, who would torture Luc with plans to kill him and rape innocent Isabella for Jean Sauveur's whereabouts, and his blood ran cold as he tried not to consider what they would do if they had the advantage on Jean. Guilt flooded him, because he knew that if it weren't for Phoenix he wouldn't be talking to Pieter in the empty stables right then, he would be filling the doctor in as they ran as fast as possible to find the house Jean was in. But in the ruthless mind of the criminals behind everything that had happened during the long night before, getting Phoenix would be another injury to the Sauveur family, in Luc's heart most defenitely, but Jean and Phillippe would feel the pain as well if another innocent person, especially one that Luc cared about so much, was to be hurt in the situation.

"You know," he started, and Luc could tell he would not be getting the important reaction he needed right away. Living with Pillippe for a few months had taught him that when that tone began to be used, it meant one of two things. That a lesson was about to be taught to him, or that his answer was not imminent. It may only be a few moments away, but considering the weight the answer would carry made the answer seem further. "your friend seems very smart. And I think she's a few steps ahead of you. She said she's gone to pack some things. I'm assuming for you trip." "Yes..." Luc agreed, a little weary from sleep deprivation and the stress of everything that had happened, "Phoenix is brilliant. Don't tell her I said so though." He offered a weak smile at Pieter, his mind still entirely on his... whatever she was to him, while Pieter gathered a few things and started writing on a pad of paper. Hope it's a prescription, he thought, his wounds cleaned and stitched but not hurting any less. "I doubt she'll be long," he commented for no particular reason, just nervousness of her whereabouts. He would need to find her quickly before he drove himself insane worrying about her. He had never been so concerned for a woman other than his mother before, and he was feeling slightly sick to his stomache with the pressure of it all. He was, after all, a human being, and therefore by nature a flawed being. He couldn't stand not knowing where Phoenix was, or if she was okay.

"I'm going to give you my credit card. It would be stupid to use your own and impractical to carry as much cash as you'll need," came Pieter Lachen's next words, which took Luc by surprise. "Excuse me?" he said in a disapproving tone. Anyone who knew the first thing about Luc Danier was that he did not easily accept anything he did not earn with his own two hands. The relief in this statement, though, was that he had indirectly blessed Luc's decision, something that took one of the weights off of Luc's shoulders. "Though I do suggest you take plenty of it and I will expect to be paid back. I think your family's good for it. Luc had to stop himself from laughing out loud at how well Pieter had pinned him. Of course that would be the first thing Luc would suggest, considering Pieter was most defenitely right as to his financial situation. Credit cards could be traced, and he would get robbed blind the second anyone guessed how much cash he was carrying. Still, he would take a significant amount and hide it throughout their luggage just in case something happened, but the card was the most practical. Pieter was a smart man, and learned in the ways of the world, and he would trust his advice to the fullest extent of it. "These are friends of mine and your brothers. If you need help these people will help you. They won't ask you questions and I suggest you do the same." Luc took the card and the list of names, addresses, and numbers that Pieter had handed him, with a nod of understanding as he scanned the list. "Thank you," he murmered as he carefully folded the paper and put it in his wallet. Then he thought with amazement that he still had a wallet. What were the odds? He figured that Pearce didn't think he would be using it any time soon, and he was greatful for the convenience this oversight brought him.

"As for you brother's safety." Luc looked at Pieter directly in the eyes, listening intently to his every word. His brother was the person he felt the most connected to in the world, and he would do anything to help him. "You haven't told me anything I didn't know before... except perhaps how low this man will actually stoop for what he wants. Though I'm still not certain what that is. But I think Jean knows."[/B] Luc did not blink. He did not flinch. He did not shuffle his feet, fidget, or bite his nails. He did nothing but stare at Pieter as he privately felt his heart feel like it had suddenly become a punching bag, knowing that in truth Jean's tormentor's were worse than they appeared, but hearing it spoken by someone else brought the fact home to him. He mechanically took the sling and quickly wrestled with it until his right arm rested in it, then took Pieter's outstretched hand. He didn't shake it, though, just held it as the doctor continued talking. "I never told him the secret you asked me to keep because I had promised you that then. Now I promise you that I will do whatever I can, which is whatever his pride will allow, to help him get through this. So long as you promise to take your friend and keep each other safe." For a long moment, Luc said nothing. Then, slammed with emotion, he let go of Pieter's hand and gave him a one armed hug with his good arm. "He's my brother, Pieter. He's my brother." He didn't need to say the rest of what he was thinking. He knew Pieter would understand. He's my brother. I need him. Please... protect him where I can't. Then he hastily avoided his eyes, afraid that his brown irises might tear up due to his emotions (something that has happened so few times he can count the events on one hand), muttered, "I need to find Phoenix. Thank you, Pieter," and hurried out of the stables to make sure Phoenix was packed so he could drag her to Jean's apartment for no more than ten minutes. He figured that if she packed what few things he would need while he showered, they could be out of there before anyone even knew they'd been in.

[SocialMisfit]

Pearce Rowe

Pearce was beginning to wonder if this one was worth the hassle. Judging by the gleam in her eyes, she wasn't about to roll over and play dead. Which was a pity, because Pearce's patience was wearing thin and he really wasn't up for a lot of effort put into one good lay. And effort, it would seem, was what this slag would be requiring.

Once he took his daring step nearer, the brunette visibly tensed, full lips pulling back so that they were no more than a thin line stretched across brilliant white teeth. "Bull****! I know what you're after!" Pearce resisted the urge to roll his black eyes, now feeling rather annoyed with the results of his endeavor. "You take another step closer, and I swear, I will castrate you with the nearest available object, and that's a promise!" Castration. No matter how many times he heard that threat, it would always send a brief twinge of imaginary pain down between his legs. Still, to Pearce is was an overused promise, and he would have appreciated something a little more original. "You can go ahead and shoot me if you feel the need. It's not like I have my 'give a ****' face on or anything, so by all means."

This made Pearce's eyebrows quirk upwards, and he wondered if maybe she was a bit masochistic, telling him to go ahead and shoot her. "You talk an awful lot," he commented in an unenthusiastic drawl, folding his arms over his chest as he surveyed her. "You're making the urge to go ahead and put a bullet in your head a lot more tempting than any other urges in which I might have considered indulging previously." Pearce leaned against a wooden post, lip curling briefly as he paused to brush a bit of dust off his sleeve before reaching inside the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he waved the box in her direction in a vague offer to share and then lit the tip of his own with a lighter that had magically appeared in his hand. Normally smoking in a stable made of wood would have been quite unintelligent, but the air was thick and humid with moisture because of the approaching storm, and frankly Pearce was too irritated to care much about fire safety.

He turned back to her, brow cocked as their eyes met, black with gray and gold. "Not only that, you're being rather stupid. I doubt the little butter knife or whatever the hell you have in that pocket of yours is much in comparison to my artillery, and yet there you are, spouting off threats and making assumptions about me." Pearce took a deep drag of his cigarette, a condescending smirk forming on his lips. "And you know what they say about assumptions."

Rose Lee Peace

Rose felt a queer sense of amusement when the man's eyebrows raised quizzically.

"You talk an awful lot," he drawled, folding his arms over his chest. "You're making the urge to go ahead and put a bullet in your head a lot more tempting than any other urges in which I might have considered indulging previously."

Rose smirked, gesturing at her scars. "I highly doubt that would be as bad as all the other **** I've gone through... Which would be... Uh, Everything," she said, note the emphasis on 'Everything'. "If I was probably any other person, I'd give you a little strip tease to prove it, but to your dissapointment, I'm a little uptight for that," she told him casually, her mind still twisted up in knots.

The man breifly offered her a ciggy, to which she nodded her head 'no', and watched uninterestedly as he lit it, taking one awfully deep drag. He turned back to her, cocking his brow upwards as his black irises met her wild, gold-flecked ones.

"Not only that, you're being rather stupid. I doubt the little butter knife or whatever the hell you have in that pocket of yours is much in comparison to my artillery, and yet there you are, spouting off threats and making assumptions about me," he said, taking another drag, as a smirk formed on his face. "And you know what they say about assumptions," he told her, nearly causing Rose to laugh outright.

She snorted in twisted amusement, which was normal when she was in this current mode.

"Well, well, well," she said, putting a hand on her hip. "This is new. You're actually telling me to be careful, even though you're being pretty sarcastic... That's funny," she said, chortling. "Normally, they get right down to buisiness, which is really not much fun at all. Dragging things out makes it all much more interesting, wouldn't you agree?" she sneered.

Man, she was one Hell of a masochist. A pretty sick and twisted one at that. She should really start seeing a shrink.

"'course, I'd really rather not be raped again, if it's all the same to you. It's not exactly what you would call 'plesant', And secondly, I can name a few people who wouldn't be very happy about it either," she told him with a shrug.

[angelofthenight]

OOC: For Bella and Vagabund. This could be interesting. BIC:

Bella Karina

It had been a while since she'd visited the stables of the Opera House. As a matter of fact the last time she'd been there had been with Raniero, one afternoon would they'd decided to go see Aza. The visit had ended with a rondevous in one of the more secluded stalls. Bella's mouth formed into a tight line at this memory. Recollections of Raniero and the time they'd spent together seemed to be popping into her head more and more frequently especially since her date with Edmund.

She placed a kiss on the top of Nicholas' head as she walked down the row of stalls, looking for the big black stallion Raniero had purchased so long ago. She had to admit that the first few times she'd brought Nicholas into this part of the Opera House she'd been nervous that it wasn't safe for him. After one of his monthly check ups the doctor had informed her that it was actually not going to do him any harm, that in fact it woud help boost his immune system.

Nicholas was not almost two months old and he smiled often, laughing even more. He loved to watch her mouth move when she talked and she would watch him ashe tried to form the words himself. At the moment Nicholas was playing with the pacifier he'd been sucking on earlier but now had become more interested in trying to peel off one of the stickers on the plastic part of the bink then he was on sucking on it.

She approached Aza's stall and the horse whinnied in greeting, pawing the ground wtih his hoof in anticipation of some sort of treat. She smiled and took an apple from her pocket, feeding it to him. Nicholas watched Aza with fascination as the large animal devoured the whole apple in just two bites. Nicholas was not able to hold himself up yet but he could hold his head up and so Bella had one arm positioned behind his back to support him as he reached out and petted Aza laughing with pleasure. Bella couldn't help but smile at her son. He was looking more and more like his father everyday, if it weren't for the blue eyes and smile that he'd inherited from her no one would guess they were mother and son.

[The Countess]

Vagabund Wertloser

She had heard them come. Not that that was anything extraordinary, the walls of the stables magnified the most insignificant, scanty sound and exploded to nearly deafening proportions in the cold silence. Normally she wouldn’t be here, but a sopping wet cardboard box in the rain is quite an uncomfortable one; a putrid horse stable had even more luxury than that (not that she was one to know of luxuries).

Either way, Vagabund Wertloser heard them come from above. She was nestled neatly in the straw next to a dark mare that the keepers called ‘Aza’. Pretty beastie. Won’t you look handsome under a good gentleman’s assets in a jolly game of polo? The horse whinnied as if in offense. Had he been reading her mind, she did not know, but animals, especially horses, we brilliant in understanding the human mind. Not that Vagabund would know that. “Hush, beastie. The blonde lady will hear,” she hissed through her un-kept teeth. Vagabund enthralled herself deeper into the straw just in the nick of time. Literally inches away from her hidden self, was a beautiful blonde woman and her bouncing baby boy.

Vagabund, knowing everything about everyone, knew that this enchanting woman was Karina. Karina...something. That was only her last name. Vagabund’s head was pounding, but she knew the woman’s first name started with a “B”. Betsy? Beatrice? Bailey? A baby cooed. I know for sure that that the kid’s name is Nicholas…I think…why is it so cold in here? Her very blood seemed to freeze as a sickening realization dawned on Vagabund. She was no longer shielded by the straw.

[angelofthenight]

Bella Karina

Bella caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. When she was Nicholas she was aware of everything little thing going on in her surroundings. She instictively held Nicholas clsoer to her and tightened her arms around him. All the things that had been going on at the Opera House did little to comfort and she slowly moved towards the exit. Nicholas seemed to sense her nervousness for he was staring at a stall intently. Following her son's gaze her jaw practically droppped when she saw a rather filthy looking woman in the straw.

Her instincts told her to turn and run. That this mysterious woman that had concealed herself in the straw was nothing but trouble. But another side of her. The more compassionate side wanted to see if she was okay. She wanted ot help the woman. Shifting her hold on Nicholas so that he was in a better position that she could protect him should the need arise. "Are you alright..." Bella asked uncertainly, keeping her distance as she eyed the woman warily.

[The Countess]

Vagabund Wertloser

Trapped! Trapped like a mouse being eyed by a cat. Vagabund could only stare in complete shock and discomfort at the blonde woman with her baby. She could see that Miss What's-Her-Face Karina tightened her hold on the child. Whaja think I'm gonna do? Eat him? How straving do you think I am? No offense, lady, but baby-dumpling doesn't look that apatizing.

The woman then flashed a softer look, cautious, but softer. "Are you alright..."

Vagabund was dumbfounded. Actual conversation of the concerned type? How rare! What should I do? Run...no she may call after me. I could pretend that I didn't see her. Yes, the old insanity trick. Ah, I'm too worn to play that card today. I suppose I'll have to say something. "Fine," she croaked in an obviously unused voice, "stables aren't the best choice for the Prinzessin von Deidesheim but she manages. Nice baby." As a final touch, Vagabund flicked one eyeborw up. That's right, keep 'er on 'er toes.

[angelofthenight]

Bella Karina

"Fine," The woman croaked in a hoarse and obviously unused voice. Bella was not surprised over the woman. Gavriel had believed in helping every homless person he saw. Rarely had they ate dinner just as a family. No normally they would have someone off the streets join them who would later stay the night and there'd been times when they'd wake up and some valuable things would be gone along with their 'guest'. After the first couple times Bella had no longer been able to get made at Gavriel for it so instead she'd just wave it off and make breakfast.

"stables aren't the best choice for the Prinzessin von Deidesheim but she manages. Nice baby." The woman said, tearing Bella from her walk down memory lane. When the woman lifted her hand Bella stood her ground, not knowing what she was going to do but ready for whatever it could be. When she simply flicked in eyebrow Bella knew the woman was just messing with her and her nerves so without hesitation she lifted a paper bag out of a small sack that contained a sandwich, an apple, a cookie, and a juice box. Something she'd gotten together for a meager lunch but she offered it to the woman. "Atleast take something to eat..." Bella insisted, throwing the bag into the stall beside her and leaving it up to the woman to decide weather she'd accept the kindness and the food Bella offered.

[The Countess]

Vagabund Wertloser

When the woman was so easily shaken by a mere raising of the hand, Vagabund thought she could have some fun. But what she didn't exspect was the food. "At least take something to eat..." the woman insisted.

Vagabund gazed down at the bag a bit but came to an accord with herself to pass off the oppertunity of a free meal. "No thanks, lady. I can get my own eats..." She hoped that she had not offended er but it was no matter if she did.

"Vagabund's the name and you...Karina isn't? Something Karina. I've heard of you. Who do you think you are givin' me this?" She gestured to the bag in the hay. "You're no better than me, dearie. You do know what Vagabund means don't you?" Vagabund gave an omniscient glare as she watched her face for traces of emotion.

[angelofthenight]

Bella Karina

"No thanks, lady. I can get my own eats..." The woman said in reply and Bella only nodded, knowing that the woman didn't have to take the food. Bella had a giving heart, so naturally as she stared at the woman that had obviously met wtih great misfortunes in her life she pitied her and wanted to help her. But if the woman didn't want help or compassion then there was nothing Bella could do.

"Vagabund's the name and you...Karina isn't? Something Karina. I've heard of you. Who do you think you are givin' me this?" Bella was slightly taken aback by the woman's words but she recovered quickly and stammered hesitantly. "I'm Bella..." was all she could say as she watched Vagabund closely. "You're no better than me, dearie. You do know what Vagabund means don't you?" The woman asked and Bella kept her face emotionless as the woman glared at her. "I'm sorry for disturbing you miss..." she began but Nicholas squirmed her arms causing Bella to drop her bag and different items scattered the floor, maybe she wasn't leaving after all.

[The Countess]

Vagabund Wertloser

"I'm Bella..." Knew it started with a "B". Pretty name.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you miss..." Bella said but wasn't paying the slightest attention to the little boy wiggling in her arms. Next thing they knew, contents were scattered everywhere. They both were quiet staring at loose change and other intails, but Vagabund had a good idea of what was running through the blonde girl's mind. She blinked a few times, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and actually performed the act. For the first time in years, Vagabund tried small talk. "Distrubin' me? Whaja think I was doing down here worth distrubin'? I'm just waiting for the rain to stop."

Vagabund tried to look her in the eyes, but all she saw was the worst of her. "Lady, Bella, whatever, I don't have no pockets for this ****. You might as well pick it up before the beasties do." To reasure, she stated, "Vagabund Wertloser won't take. Not for keepsies at least."

A small box hit her foot. Vagabund grasped the tiny object in her skinny hand. Keep with the small talk."Rosen, eh? You play?"

[angelofthenight]

Bella Karina

"Distrubin' me? Whaja think I was doing down here worth distrubin'? I'm just waiting for the rain to stop." Bella only nodded as she began to cautiously gather her things into a pile. Most of the items were thing for her violin. Spare strings and boxes of rozen littered the floor, along with a rose or two that Edmund had left in her violin case. She kept her eyes focused on Vagabun as she began to slip the items into her bag one by one.

"Lady, Bella, whatever, I don't have no pockets for this ****. You might as well pick it up before the beasties do." To reasure, she stated, "Vagabund Wertloser won't take. Not for keepsies at least." Bella only nodded. She hadn't been afraid of the girl taking her things she was just nervous having Nicholas around the woman that she didn't know. She'd heard so many stories about people that lurked in the shadows of the Opera House that Bella was being paranoid and she knew it.

"Rosen, eh? You play?" Bella looked up and noticed that the box had hit the woman's foot. Bella nodded and walked over, picking it up quickly and throwing it in her bag. "Yes I do..I've been playing for a long time..." she told the girl simply, shouldering her bag and readjusting Nicholas in her arms as she leaned against the wall to catch her breath before making her long trek back to her house.

[The Countess]

"Yes I do..I've been playing for a long time..." Vagabund mimicked Bella's last few movements, a nod. "Good for you, I myself csn't carry a tune, even if I had pockets." She wanted to smile, but her teeth weren't in the best condition.

"Well, nice chatting with you dearie, and keep in mind that there are far worse brutes out there than me. Much worse, much worse. Old Vagabund here wouldn't harm a fly, really. Steal, sometimes, talk flith, but never hurt nobody. Just keep that in mind for baby-dumpling's sake. Be seeing you."

And with that Vagabund Wertloser waddled away, seeing what other shenanigans she could seek out, saying in sing-song "Alms! Alms! For a miserable old woman..."

[angelofthenight]

Bella Karina

"Good for you, I myself csn't carry a tune, even if I had pockets." Bella could tell the woman wanted to smile but she didn't. Instead Bella let a slight smile turn up the corner of her mouth as she shouldered her bag and readjusted Nicholas in her arms. If she didn't gret going she would be late for rehearsals. Though she still had about a half an hour before the next rehearsal she needed to walk Nicholas back to her home that she shared with Rose and Xavier, eat something, and then walk all the way back, a half an hour was really cutting it close.

"Well, nice chatting with you dearie, and keep in mind that there are far worse brutes out there than me. Much worse, much worse. Old Vagabund here wouldn't harm a fly, really. Steal, sometimes, talk flith, but never hurt nobody. Just keep that in mind for baby-dumpling's sake. Be seeing you." With those final words the woman began walking away. Bella watched her for a moment as she left the stables, disappering into the fog that had been left by the storm. Bella turned to leave but as she did so she heard a sing song voice voice hum. "Alms! Alms! For a miserable old woman..." Bella stood there only a moment longer before turning on her heels and leaving the stables.

OOC: Bella and Vagabund have left the stable. BIC:

[The Khanum]

Rose Lee Peace

Rose felt a queer sense of amusement when the man's eyebrows raised quizzically.

"You talk an awful lot," he drawled, folding his arms over his chest. "You're making the urge to go ahead and put a bullet in your head a lot more tempting than any other urges in which I might have considered indulging previously."

Rose smirked, gesturing at her scars. "I highly doubt that would be as bad as all the other **** I've gone through... Which would be... Uh, Everything," she said, note the emphasis on 'Everything'. "If I was probably any other person, I'd give you a little strip tease to prove it, but to your disappointment, I'm a little uptight for that," she told him casually, her mind still twisted up in knots.

The man briefly offered her a ciggy, to which she nodded her head 'no', and watched uninterestedly as he lit it, taking one awfully deep drag. He turned back to her, cocking his brow upwards as his black irises met her wild, gold-flecked ones.

"Not only that, you're being rather stupid. I doubt the little butter knife or whatever the hell you have in that pocket of yours is much in comparison to my artillery, and yet there you are, spouting off threats and making assumptions about me," he said, taking another drag, as a smirk formed on his face. "And you know what they say about assumptions," he told her, nearly causing Rose to laugh outright.

She snorted in twisted amusement, which was normal when she was in this current mode.

"Well, well, well," she said, putting a hand on her hip. "This is new. You're actually telling me to be careful, even though you're being pretty sarcastic... That's funny," she said, chortling. "Normally, they get right down to business, which is really not much fun at all. Dragging things out makes it all much more interesting, wouldn't you agree?" she sneered.

Man, she was one Hell of a masochist. A pretty sick and twisted one at that. She should really start seeing a shrink.

"'course, I'd really rather not be raped again, if it's all the same to you. It's not exactly what you would call 'pleasant', And secondly, I can name a few people who wouldn't be very happy about it either," she told him with a shrug.

OOC: Sorry for the Dogma quote, folks. I'm lame. BIC:

Pearce Rowe

The girl seemed to be almost cocky in her knowledge of what Pearce was going to do, which made it more enticing to him to perhaps switch things up a bit. He had this terribly urge to whip that smug smirk right off her face with a smack or an iron hold around her neck or something. There was a great rift in his mind, one half thoroughly irritated, the other a little turned on by her impudence. "I highly doubt that would be as bad as all the other **** I've gone through... Which would be... Uh, Everything." This statement tipped the scale in favor of his annoyance, especially since she was comparing what she thought he could do to whatever the hell had happened to her before. It was deeply insulting to him; hell, she had no idea what kind of man he was. Maybe at some point he could enlighten her as to how much more damage he could do compared to those little scars.

Her cynical chortling wasn't really what he expected, and he responded with a mostly stoic expression highlighted by a certain, inexplicable gleam in his black eyes. "Well, well, well," she said, snickering. "This is new. You're actually telling me to be careful, even though you're being pretty sarcastic... That's funny." Pearce merely cocked an eyebrow at her while taking a drag of his cigarette, face stone set. "Normally, they get right down to business, which is really not much fun at all. Dragging things out makes it all much more interesting, wouldn't you agree?"

And there was that goddamn 'normally' again. Was she really so dense that she thought she could stereotype all men into one sentence abbreviated by the adverb 'normally'? It was almost offensive, and being offensive was not really a bright move on her part, especially in her current position. "'course, I'd really rather not be raped again, if it's all the same to you. It's not exactly what you would call 'pleasant', And secondly, I can name a few people who wouldn't be very happy about it either."

Yanking the cigarette out from between his lips in one swift, impatient gesture, Pearce said, "Jesus, you are the single chattiest girl I've ever had the misfortune of encountering. 'Raped again,' I can't imagine it happening a first time. You wouldn't give the bloke enough time to get two words in edgewise, let alone a decent shag, would you?" Giving a short, gruff sigh, he leaned against the post once again and surveyed her with a narrowed, critical gaze. "Shouldn't be surprised, really. Americans, you're all the same in your arrogance. You think everybody's just trying to get in your knickers." He replaced the cigarette and inhaled before casting a slight glare in her direction. "And I don't appreciate being compared to whichever lovely little friend of yours gave you that," Pearce added as an afterthought while giving a nod to indicate her scarring.

[SocialMisfit]

Rose Lee Peace

She only smirked at what the other man had to say. Well, I'm glad I've aquired that little turn-off. Normally I don't talk so much... Hmm... I wonder how the change came on... came the thought. She really had never talked so much when she was in a situation like this... She wasn't really sure what had gotten into her... Maybe it was during those long three months she had been separated from Xavier, constantly having to get in peoples faces and tell them off in order to get them off her back. Either that, or maybe she was nervous. She couldn't tell.

"And I don't appreciate being compared to whichever lovely little friend of yours gave you that," the man said irritated, nodding to her scars. She shrugged.

"I don't think anyone would appreciate being compared with my dad," she muttered non-chalantly. Even though he hadn't sexually abused her, he still left a pretty big mark. Even though they were on good terms now, the twisted, ropey scars that covered her face and torso were a permenant reminder of how he had treated her when she was younger.

Considering they were just standing across from each other, both falling into hostile silence, Rose rolled her eyes. "As much as I'd love to stay and irritate you more with my unusual habit of 'chatting', I have better things to do. So, if you'll excuse me," she said, turning from him, and making her way towards the exit of the stables.

[Raoulsgal0689]

OOC: For Xavier and Cat!

Xavier Peace

It was a long indeed for him. Rose was due for another round of chemo and yet again he was forced to be working instead of being able to go with her and support her. He couldn't even watch Cally while she went and do something useful for her, the job having been handed off to Bella. He honestly felt like a pathetic excuse for a man when he could do nothing to help his own wife who he had vowed to take care of on their wedding day. He truly hated himself sometimes because of it. He just wanted to be able to do something for her.

He headed down into the stables, knowing that some of the other stage hands had left some of the tools he needed down there while they were busy working on another set. He seached each of the stalls and finally came across what he'd been looking for. And yet, he wasn't ready to return to work just yet. He couldn't stand the thought of returning to his joband having to draw out the long hours until he could go home again. Till he could be with his family again. That was what he truly wanted.

He sighed, deciding to take a small break. He leaned against the wall of the stable and slid down to the ground, resting his head against the wall and closing his dark eyes. He pushed his long dark hair out of his face and for the hundreth time, wondered why he wore it down at work. He just sat there and thought about anything and everything that came to mind. For once the other stage hands could take of making sure that the latest set got built. He couldn't do that job all of time.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

With no lessons scheduled for once, Easy had felt at a loss for something to do, feeling too restless for practice of any sort. Empty days were more common now that he had withdrawn from several classes, something he had admitted to no one. He paused in the looming opening of the stables, trying to drum up some enthusiasm about his project, picturing the times that he and Iah Raksha had ventured here as if they could recapture their early days of living in a tent in the park. How long had it been since he had done any physical labor beyond playing instruments?

Today, he had "dressed down", somehow knowing that his wandering ways would take him places where jeans, T-shirt and jacket would be a wiser choice. He stepped into the shadows of the stables and began walking, moving instinctively to "his" stalls, realizing that some of the work done undoubtedly had come undone due to the variable weather that he thought he was adjusting to at long last, something that Rafe Chancery obviously hadn't wanted to hear. He gave his head a shake, as if that could send further thoughts of his former guardian spinning away from him, never to return. He wasn't quite to his destination when he spotted a man seated on the ground, and, as he recognized him, he thought that his heart would stop.

"Xavier." He breathed the name with a sigh. Frowning slightly at his foolishness, he called out the name in his velvety voice, aware of the quaver in it. "You OK?" he asked, moving closer, his tread light, his movements gracefully feline both by nature and from many hours of lessons. He crouched by the handsome young man, resting a trembling hand on his shoulder.

[Raoulsgal0689]

Xavier Peace

"Xavier." came a soft voice. He looked up at the sounds of name, assuming it be on the stage hands hvaing come to find him and interrupt his little break. Surprised with have been an understatement when he realized it was Easy coming towards him rather than one of his co-workers. HE couldn't recall having seen the boy in the longest time and had not the slightest clue as to where he had disappeared to. He could recall vaguely hoping that the boy's "guardians" had not come and taken him away.

"Ease? Is that you," he asked, only to feel rather stupid afterwards. It was rather obvious that the tawny eyed boy now beside him was indeed Easy Tanner. "You OK?" he asked, placing a hand against his shoulder. He smiled tiredly at the younger boy, runinning his fingers through his own long black hair. "Physically? I'm great...Emotionally is another story," he replied cryptically. He motioned for Easy to come and sit beside him, wanting to catch up with his friend. "I haven't seen you in forever Ease! Where have you been," he asked.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

"Ease? Is that you?" The youth felt the burn of tears at the sound of Xavier's voice, which filled him with such varied emotions. Most of all, he wanted to be held by those arms and sheltered by that strong body, making him feel safe, as if no more harm could come to his world. He had come to believe that the Opera House afforded some safety but now knew that was a lie. No place was safe.

He wanted to hear that everything was all right with at least one person but doubted that he was going to be reassured~which he wasn't, not truly: "Physically? I'm great...Emotionally is another story." His welcoming motion brought Easy completely to his side, and he could barely restrain himself from resting his head on a broad shoulder. An image of Jules tried to form, but he thrust it back into the darkness. "I haven't seen you in forever, Ease! Where have you been?"

When he tried to answer, the youth found that he could make no sound at first. In one of the many novels he had forced himself to read, some author had used the phrase Her heart was in her throat, and he hadn't been certain that he understood till the sensation came, one he remembered from too often in his past. He braced himself to try again.

"I'm~OK." He shrugged. "Just kind of takin' a break from stuff. Haven't been around the place much. Don't know why." But, he did. Taking a deep breath, he placed an arm around Xavier's shoulders, hoping the gesture would not be misconstrued. "You can talk to me. You know that, Xavier. I can help you. What do you need? I~I'd do anything for you. Just ask." Then, a name came to him, and he recalled things he had said seemingly log ago to Xavier about a girl. "Rose," he said, his voice faint. He had told Xavier that Rose Dubois had a crush on him. Had this led to more heartbreak, he wondered, recalling Xavier and the girl at the Eiffel Tower.

[Raoulsgal0689]

OOC: Apologies to the loverly Cyn for taking so long on this post! Work has been rather hectic for me lately.

Xavier Peace

Easy came and sat next to him and the familiarality of the younger boy's presence was welcome and comforting. Easy had always been a good friend to him and he was easy to talk to...and there was so much to say that at the moment, Xavier felt as though his head might explode. But rather than letting all of his problems spill out, he inquired about his friend first. He hadn't actually seen Cat in a long time and was quite curious as to where he had been. "I'm~OK. Just kind of takin' a break from stuff. Haven't been around the place much. Don't know why." he'd said with a shrug. Xavier raised an eyebrow, not buying it. "Are you sure okay, Ease? You seem upset," he pointed out.

And it appeared Cat sensed that he was upset. He felt the younger boy's arm around his shoulder and he found himself leaning slightly into the boy's smaller frame for comfort. "You can talk to me. You know that, Xavier. I can help you. What do you need? I~I'd do anything for you. Just ask." he said. There was a pause. "Rose" he said. Xavier looked at Easy for a moment, surprised that he seemed to know about the situation. Xavier nodded. "Yeah...I guess that it was has me most upset. Rose and I are married now," he began, showing the boy the gold band on his left ring finger. "And we've been really happy together. My life with her has been wonderful...but she just discovered that she has cancer. She's dying Easy..." He felt himself choking out the words, trying to restrain a sob. "I don't know what to do now..."

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Ooh! Lovely?! That's nice. Obviously she's never seen a pic of moi. *giggle* Xavier is worth ANY wait! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had tried to assure Xavier, but he knew he tended to "leak attitude", as he had come to express it. Most people did it: said they were OK when their eyes and their attitude said different.

"Are you sure you're okay, Ease? You seem upset."

He tried for a lighthearted look and sound as he said, "Nah". He was grateful when his attempt at physically comforting the older youth was accepted without question. He smiled faintly as Xavier yielded to him, realizing that he felt good about it, as if he had accomplished something important. He was ready to help in any way possible, ready to call in favors from some very important and powerful people.

Why it suddenly dawned on him to mention Rose, he was uncertain, but Xavier looked up, and their eyes met. Easy was stunned by the power of that gaze and fiercely reminded himself that he was here only to help the young man who had been his friend, who looked upon him as a kid brother.

"Yeah...I guess that it was has me most upset. Rose and I are married now," he said, indicating the ring on his left hand, causing Easy to wonder if his remark that day had helped bring this about. Rose had been angry at him then but had seemed quite friendly when they had met... They had met at the doctor's office. Suddenly ill, he listened as Xavier continued speaking. "And we've been really happy together. My life with her has been wonderful...but she just discovered that she has cancer. She's dying, Easy..." The youth thought that his heart might break in sympathy for Xavier, knowing what heartbreak he had been through and now must experience even worse pain than had gone before. Experienced as he was at being overcome by emotions, Easy realized that Xavier certainly was at a breaking point. "I don't know what to do now..."

Easy turned slightly to wrap his other arm around Xavier, rocking ever so slightly in a movement that he knew sometimes soothed him. Lilith and Iah both had held him in this way. Xavier's head rested on his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek against the dark mane of hair, hoping that he could do something more to set him at ease.

"I~um~sort of know, Xavier. I met Rose at the doctor's office, and she told me sh-she's sick~real sick." He was struck by a thought. "Baby. She had a baby," he murmured. "Xavier, I can help. I know I can. It's OK. Chance~I can contact him and Mr. Mehmet. They can get Rose doctors, fancy ones, ones who can make her better." He jostled the young man he held, as if teasing. Tightening his arms in a serious hug, he then slipped a hand under Xavier's chin, lifting his face so that he could look into his eyes once more. The smile on his face was a sweet one not often seen. A slender hand patted the handsome face so gently. "I got all the money you'll ever need, Xavier. With money, you can do anything," he was certain.

"Please, Xavier, don't worry. Let me help you. I owe you big, don't I? Who else would've saved my sorry ass if you hadn't've been a hero? You tell me what she needs. Tell me what you need. Please? Pretty please?" The smile went crooked as he hoped to lure a smile out of his friend.

[Raoulsgal0689]

Xavier Peace

It was so easy to be able to tell Cat everything...he'd barely told another soul about how deeply scared and upset he was by Rose's sudden illness, and yet, with Cat, he dind't feel the need to try and pretend to be strong. At the same time it was rather strange to have the younger boy comfroting him, holding him, when normally he was the one acting in the "big brother" type role and comforting. He was imensely grateful to Cat for the simple gesture of an embrace. He just let his head rest on the younger boy's shoulder, trying to keep from letting his emotions get too out of hand.

"I~um~sort of know, Xavier. I met Rose at the doctor's office, and she told me sh-she's sick~real sick...Baby. She had a baby," Cat seemed to recall. He sighed, the thought of Cally only making things more difficult. What would happen to Cally if Rose died...would he be allowed to keep her and raise her, even if he wasn't the rightful father? "Yeah...that's Cally. She's Rose's daughter...and mine, in a way...I took over being her father because her real father...well, it wouldn't be good for him to be around Cally," Xavier explained vaugely. Xavier looked up Cat once more, eyes sad and distant. "I love her like she was my own little girl and I don't even know what will happen to her if Rose di..dies." He choked on the word, horrfied by saying it.

"Xavier, I can help. I know I can. It's OK. Chance~I can contact him and Mr. Mehmet. They can get Rose doctors, fancy ones, ones who can make her better." Cat exclaimed as he hugged him tightly. Cat's hand gently guided his face, so their eyes met again. "I got all the money you'll ever need, Xavier. With money, you can do anything," he concluded. Xavier shut his eyes and shook his head as he set himself back up right. "Please, Xavier, don't worry. Let me help you. I owe you big, don't I? Who else would've saved my sorry ass if you hadn't've been a hero? You tell me what she needs. Tell me what you need. Please? Pretty please?" Cat tried again.

Xavier ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head once more, trying to figure out a way to tell Cat that there was no way he could help...no way any one could help. "Cat...I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think you understand. What Rose has isn't going to go away no matter what kind of doctors she goes to or how much money is offered...there is nothing anyone can do. That's the part the really kills me. I love her so much and I can only sit by and watch while she dies..." he said softly, staring blankly ahead at the stable wall.

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Fourth time will have to be the charm because my third try got zapped, too! Either it's the laptop or my spirit is at war with electronics! I have no idea WHY it's doing this!BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had mentioned seeing Rose at the doctor's office. "Yeah...that's Cally. She's Rose's daughter...and mine, in a way." For some reason, that soothed Easy, the fact that the child was someone else's, yet he felt traitorous for thinking of her that way. "I took over being her father because her real father...well, it wouldn't be good for him to be around Cally." Aware of some of Rose's dark history, Easy wondered just who the man had been, perhaps the one who had been pursuing her, news of which he had gathered from overheard conversations, including Rose's visits with Lilith Eytinge.

Then, Xavier had looked up at him, and his breath caught for the dark eyes were filled with sadness and seemed not to see him. He knew the look, for he had caught it in reflections, had felt it as others attempted to draw him out of that dark place. He had begun to believe that each person was filled with shadows. Catch someone unawares, and it was possible to glimpse the emptiness, that moment when he or she was not in the here and now.

"I love her like she was my own little girl, and I don't even know what will happen to her if Rose di..dies." The sound that came with that last word was like a burning brand on his heart, and he struggled for some idea of what he could do to banish the pain~which is when he had decided on seeking help from Rafe Chancery, Jamil Mehmet and even the frighteningly powerful Hassan Mehmet, Jamil's father. He had sought eye contact again, wanting to see a different expression there, but it was not to be. His attention was captured by a simple movement that should have counted for nothing in the turmoil that enveloped the two of them, and he watched enchanted as Xavier wove fingers through tousled ebony tresses. He struggled to resist the memory of their gentle touch, knowing that it held only brotherly affection. He was startled from his reverie as the older youth shook his head~Easy supposed in denial of the offer~leaving him confused and, alarmingly, slightly angered that his plans were not being met with enthusiasm and that hope had not brought change to the stormy eyes.

"Cat...I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think you understand. What Rose has isn't going to go away no matter what kind of doctors she goes to or how much money is offered...there is nothing anyone can do. That's the part the really kills me. I love her so much and I can only sit by and watch while she dies." It was said with such resignation, and the strong body moved away from him, no longer accepting what he had to offer.

Swiftly, the teen moved onto his knees, facing Xavier, grasping the wide shoulders in a suprisingly strong grip, giving him a shake as if he could physically lift him from the darkness he was in. "No!" His voice was rough velvet, filled with anger, his teeth clenched, keeping the shouted word from carrying far, suppressing its power. "You don't know that! You haven't seen every doctor! You need money for that! I know that, Xavier! So, you 'n' Rose couldn't've done everything! Listen to me!" The shake came again. "I won't let you be hurt like that! It's my fault! I told you about her! So, it's my fault!"

At that point, he shattered, falling away from Xavier to lie on his back, hands now over his face, feeling the tears he hadn't realized were there, his chest heaving, overcome with such mixed emotions that he scarcely knew what he truly felt. He had told Xavier about Rose's crush. Had he not, they would not be together. Had he not, Xavier would not be in this pain. He was the cause and was helpless to help.

[witch]

OCC: Cara Andovea with Eric Pederson
Cara Andovea

The sweet, sweet smell of horses the crunch of the straw this would of once been a great place to keep a girls best friend though now it seemed just as ghostly like the rest of the underground city of the Opera House. Still as Cara walked she found this to be a great place to be on her own still hearing the clopping hooves and feeling the warm glow on her heart when ever she was around horses... though now there where none save for the ones she imagined.

Sitting down in one of the stalls she took out on the books she would need for school, her art book filled with none to grand a drawings. The task was to paint history and what better place then the dark underground of legend and tail?

And so she sat there in silence trying to see back in years as to what the stables might of looked like all the way back when.

[angelofthenight]

OOC: Something's wrong with my computer's hardrive so I'm going to be off and on. BIC:

Eric Pederson

Eric had been assigned as a part time job, next to working backstage as a stagehand, to make sure that though there wasn't any horses in the stables that it was well maintained. The Opera House managers tended to be very impulsive at times and so at any moment they could decide to completely re do that stables and fill it with horses once more. But for now it was deserted and Eric spent a lot of his time reshiningling the small roof that covered it or reparing rusty hinges on the stalls.

So when Eric heard the sound of crunching straw unders somene's light steps he wondered who would possibly come in here. Besides another stagehand perhaps Eric was the only one that usually came here daily. He continued to rake out the stall he'd been working on all morning and when he saw out of the corner of his eye who it was, his brow furrowed, and he only focused more on his work, raking a little harder and slower then he intended but as long as she didn't notice him all would be well.

He couldn't keep up his facade much longer as his eyes searched for something else to do, something else to keep him occupied, but he found nothing. So leaning his rake up against the wall where he'd found it he brushed himself off the best he could though he wore a tan t-shirt and dark brown khaki pants he knew that it wouldn't matter how he looked because this young girl wasn't someone he wanted to really see or impress... but he was to much of a gentlemen to simply walk out so quietly he approached her.

Clearing his throat uncertainly he managed a smile as he leaned against a stall door that was right next to the stall she sat in. "Well Miss Cara... you seem to be getting around pretty well..." he managed in a very forced light tone. "atleast compared to the last time I saw you..." he paused and shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. "You um... you're dancing again aren't you... your ankle hasn't been bothering you or anything has it?" he asked, cautiously, he didn't want to lead her the worng way with hsi concerns, but he didn't want her to think he wasn't concerned about her either.

[witch]

OCC: Okay that's fine here we had a few power goings on and off and my net does the same thing so I know where your coming from.

Cara Andovea

A few more quick strokes of her pencil and she was done the horses she found always being the hardest thing to draw though now looking at it she saw that she was getting better.

It was strange for all the time she had been drawing the stable had been silent but now as she reached for her shoulder bag to put her book away she thought she heard someones footsteps. Looking up though she saw no one and with a sigh to herself she drew he knees up holding them her head resting as she imagined a horse standing before her it's gentle lips teasing her hair as she had drawn the amazing creature.

It was when she heard someone clearing their throat that she was bought out of her haze only to look up and see the one person that made her mind jumble for at first he had seemed so kind though now he seemed to want to ran away from her.

"Well Miss Cara... you seem to be getting around pretty well..."


His voice seemed forced and since there wasn't a question for her to answer she didn't say a thing just kept her eyes on the book bag pretending to go through it so she wouldn't have to see the one person that drove her mad.

"At least compared to the last time I saw you..."

He looked like he wanted nothing more then to ran so why then did he force out the small talk? She didn't need his pity when he really was the one person she thought would understand.

"You um... you're dancing again aren't you... your ankle hasn't been bothering you or anything has it?"

"No" she replied simply "It hasn't, and yes I am. Thanks"

If he didn't want to talk to her then that was fine but she wasn't one for lying and she had already lost someone she cared about hardly dealed with that pain without adding more to it.

"H...how are you?"

She couldn't think of anything else to say and she didn't want to be rude and so asking him how he was seemed like a safe subject. Maybe it was the whole Emily thing that got to him but when would he realize that she couldn't help that? Her hand went start to her locket tucking it under her turtle neck her eyes never lifting from her bag as she waited for an answer or a quick reply followed by a good bye, hope to never see you again.

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

Eric hated how he kept feeling obligated to help this young ballerina and chorus girl. Just because she reminded him of his sister didn't mean he had to look after like that was what she was. Yet Eric blamed himself for Lizzy's death and he couldn't help but think about the what if's and the possibilities of what could've happened if he'd only gone with her. He knew that it wasn't his fault... or so he tried to tell himelf and ERic had suceeded only partly in making sure he didn't blame himself for her death... the other part of him couldn't stand even think about his baby sister... because of the guilt that plagued him.

Cara seemed to deliberately ignore him and he bit his lip, knowing he deserved it. He'd left her without an explanation and he knew she deserved one but he wasn't sure what to tell her. He couldn't stand to be around her becuse she reminded him so much of his dead sister that it was almost painful? "No" she replied simply and Eric was surprised that she wasn't more upset that she wasn't dancing right now... was she doing something esle then to make money? "It hasn't, and yes I am. Thanks" Eric nodded glad that she was doing well... although he wished for her sake that she was still able to dance.

"Hi...how are you?" she finally asked and Eric knelt down so he was at her level. "I'm doing fine... busy though... but fine..." he said pleasantly, hoping she wouldn't notice the uneasiness in his tone. "Listen Cara... I've been I busy... I have a friend I've been trying to help..." he explained referring to Lorel he hoped she would except his stupid excuses. "How have you been?" he asked with a tight but charming smile, hoping the tension between them would diminish as time went on.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

Cara didn't say anything only felt the tension building within the stall that if a horse had been in there and felt it would only course even more problems.

It was only when he knelt down as if he was talking to a child that she meant his gaze with hers as she asked her question of how he was.

"I'm doing fine... busy though... but fine..."

Now he sounded like her but hers had been shyness and he wasn't one for being shy which only meant one thing.

"Listen Cara... I've been I busy... I have a friend I've been trying to help..."

Doesn't mean you couldn't of said more then just hello she thought to herself Eric really had hurt her. He was the only person she had told about her father aside from her patron but that hadn't been just by choice. She didn't by it for a minuet he didn't even give her a smile when he saw her is passing as he did to everyone else.

"How have you been?" he finally asked.

"Why would you care?" she couldn't help but ask in a whisper under her breath "I have a patron now so I'm sorry to say you'll still be seeing me around but you can keep on pretending I'm not there."

She couldn't help but be mad at him, she had trusted him, thought they where friends the tension between them only proved she had been wrong.

Her father was dead to but that didn't mean she stop being friendly to men when she did work up the nerve to talk to them so why did he bother now?

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

"Why would you care?" she whispered and glared at him and Eric was sligtly taken aback. She was indeed angry with him but he wasn't sure what he should do about it. He wasn't bad with people, that wasn't really the problem. He just didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know her well enough to be able to comfort her adequeately. He recalled how he'd comforted Lizzy and Maggie when they'd been little. He'd gathered them in his lap and gently he'd rocked them back and forth until they stopped crying then he'd tell them what he thought they should know, usually some piece of advice, then they'd be free to go do whaever it is that they'd wanted to do. but this was not one of his sisters and so he would have to try something different.

"I have a patron now so I'm sorry to say you'll still be seeing me around but you can keep on pretending I'm not there." Eric never lost him temper... ever. This time was no exception. He simply looked at her calmly and lifting a hand to her face he tilted her chin up so he could look at her. "Well let me tell you something Miss Cara Andovea... there are things in my life... things that I don't even understand... and you can't expect just to forget those things... to let someone in that I hardly know.... you've opened up to me... and I"m grateful for that but I can't... bring myself to do the same... not yet..." he told her as his hand fell away from her face and he shook his, looking away from her. "As for pretending yoru not there... its the only way I find peace of mind...' he muttered, not wanting to say anything mroe about ti because he knew she would pry.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

His hand fell to her chin forcing her to look at him oh how she wanted to fight back never let him touch her again but that same tingle as before came flooding back the one that she now hated with a passion.

"Well let me tell you something Miss Cara Andovea... there are things in my life... things that I don't even understand... and you can't expect just to forget those things... to let someone in that I hardly know.... you've opened up to me... and I"m grateful for that but I can't... bring myself to do the same... not yet..."

She couldn't help it more anger built up around her at those words she was about to lash out when more words came from his lips.

"As for pretending your not there... its the only way I find peace of mind..."

"You're not the only one that's going through things... I know pain and lose remember so I know that it's hard that you can never forget. I opened up to you because I thought you would be the one person that understood, the one person I thought I could talk to."

She stopped there.

"I'm sorry if I remind you or your sister I truly am but if you actually took some time and got to know me you'd find we're nothing alike and that I'm not her. I live with memories to... I just... didn't want to have to go through them alone"

She said nothing more then didn't know what else to say until finally biting her lip she said.

"If you didn't want to be around me all you had to do was tell me. I just thought I could trust you that you would of been the one person who didn't run away. I was wrong."

She picked up her things stuffing them back into her stable bag and intended to go.

"See you round, or not. Just so you know I'd still like to be your friend, even if you don't want to be mine"

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

Eric had always been told that he was sometimes dense when it came to matters of the heart. His defense had been one that his sex had used since the beginning of time and Eric used it now... to chase away the guilt he was filling. He was a guy. More then that he was in love with a woman who needed him and he wasn't sure if she even loved him back. Lorel was the sole person that occupied his every thought. The first peson he thought about when he woke up in the morning and the last person he thought about when he went to bed at night. Aside from that he had his job at the Opera House and with the carpenter who worked along the Champs... he was busy... he didn't have time to deal with things like this... and yet he still couldn't help but feel bad.

"You're not the only one that's going through things... I know pain and lose remember so I know that it's hard that you can never forget. I opened up to you because I thought you would be the one person that understood, the one person I thought I could talk to." Eric sighed and shook his head, leaning against the frame of the stall and fiddling with one of his gloves that he kept around in his pocket but never wore. It wasn't that he didn't understand the importance of the leather material to protect his hands but they hindered him, made it harder to move his fingers so nimbly when he was working. "Cara..." he began and then changed what he'd wanted to say. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way..." he said, knowing the words would hurt her but knew that getting her involved in his confusing affairs would be foolish... he was in love wtih a woman who was pregnant with a manager's child... if the manager found out and decided to get back at Eric... he would more then likely do it through his friends... and Eric couldn't subject Cara to that... once he was with Lorel... then he would make sure she knew everything... that she understood.

"I'm sorry if I remind you or your sister I truly am but if you actually took some time and got to know me you'd find we're nothing alike and that I'm not her. I live with memories to... I just... didn't want to have to go through them alone" she said and Eric sighed. "Listen... you're not alone alright... I'm here if you need me I just need a couple weeks to sort some things out..." she may remind him of his sister but he couldn't face the guilt that was awakened each time he looked at her.

"If you didn't want to be around me all you had to do was tell me. I just thought I could trust you that you would of been the one person who didn't run away. I was wrong." Eric bit his lower lip. She had been greatly mislead. It wasn't that Eric didn't want to hep her it was just that he didn't know exactly how. "You weren't wrong..." he said, shaking hsi head and shutting his eyes. "You weren't wrong Cara you were just... mislead..." he told her with a sigh and pity evident in his blue eyes.

Cara gathered her things and the Scotish stagehand glanced at her as she shouldered her bag, feeling more guilty by the look he saw on her face. "See you round, or not. Just so you know I'd still like to be your friend, even if you don't want to be mine" Eric stood as she did and he did not follow her though part of him wanted to. "Look Cara... I want to be your firend I do... its just... I dont' want you to think this anything more then a friendship alright?" he said, waiting to see if she would simply leave.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

Walking out of the stall she intended to walk right by him on her way out her heart and mind where already so mixed up that it was hard to tell fact from fiction anymore and she didn't need this guy to jumble things up even more.

She was right beside him when he replied to her slight snap.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way..."

She wasn't sure if he was just saying it to please her or not and she couldn't bring herself to look at his face it hurt just to much and the question of if she could truly trust this guy came to her mind.

"Listen... you're not alone alright... I'm here if you need me I just need a couple weeks to sort some things out..."

She could only shack her head there not alone? She was more alone now then ever. Her father was dead, her mother in Russia all around her new faces that she had to none a name for and she wasn't even of age yet how much more alone could you be?

Then there was that whole week or two. Somehow she doubted if that would be enough time if he would even say hello to her within those weeks or cast her aside like he had before.

"You weren't wrong Cara you were just... mislead..."

Mislead alright this guy seemed to be more jumbled up then she was how could she not of thought he hated her when he wouldn't even see her?

Shacking her head she placed her bag over her shoulder making sure that everything was still there.

She started walking off again and then finally he said:

"Look Cara... I want to be your friend I do... its just... I don't' want you to think this anything more then a friendship alright?"

She stopped dead in her tracks her eyes slowly going to him the look about his face made every feeling she had for him run wild and she didn't know what to make of him.

"I wanted nothing more then a friend, someone I could trust that would understand" she said again "I'm young I've lost the only person who would of been a soul mate if we weren't blood, the person who meant the world to me, the person who loved me no matter what."

The tears came then as she felt her heart bleeding with the pain.

"I thought since you had been through that and yet is still standing that you could of helped me."

She remembered the tingles then that she had felt when ever he touched her.

"And just so you know I want to find love more then anything but even if I wasn't so shy I couldn't live with the pain"

She wiped her eyes then and slid by him only to be so over come with the memories she crumbled right in the door way.

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

Eric knew she would probably walk away. What he'd said wasn't exactly incentie for her to do much else. But the thing was though Eric was a patient man there were times when he really had no patience for anyone. Now was one of those times. His mind was on Lorel. He was meeting her for lunch in a about an hour and afterwards they were going to go shopping for the baby. He didn't want to be late and he also wanted to change before he met up with her... he wasn't exactly looking like he was going anywhere... the clothes he wore now couldn't even pass as casual.

"I wanted nothing more then a friend, someone I could trust that would understand" she said again and Eric bit his lips... what had he done? "I'm young I've lost the only person who would of been a soul mate if we weren't blood, the person who meant the world to me, the person who loved me no matter what." Eric didn't know what to say, he'd only been good when he comforted people that he knew well and cared about. He cared about the young ballerina but he didn't know how to comfort her because she was almost a complete stranger.

"I thought since you had been through that and yet is still standing that you could of helped me." Eric shook his head and sighed. "The pain we've experienced in our pasts Cara are completely different. You lost a father... I lost my sister... its...not something you can compare... what i lost was more of a daughter and a charge... what you lost was more of a admiration and a guardian...its different..." he explained seriously, his blue eyes boring into her face.

"And just so you know I want to find love more then anything but even if I wasn't so shy I couldn't live with the pain" she told him, trying to slide past him and as she stepped around him she collapsed and instictively the Scotsman reached out and supported her in his arms. He wasn't sure if she was still conscious or not as he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to an empty stall. Reaching for a bucket of water and a rag he sat down in the stall and holding her head on his lap he began to wipe down her face wtih the cool water, knowing if she had really fainted the cool water would bring her around.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

"The pain we've experienced in our pasts Cara are completely different. You lost a father... I lost my sister... its...not something you can compare... what i lost was more of a daughter and a charge... what you lost was more of a admiration and a guardian...its different..."

In some ways he was right it had been in the past a year had passed but it still felt fresh like it was happening every second of very day boring itself into her heart and soul like his eyes now board into hers.

Yes he had been her father and it was because of that, that most people pushed it aside but he was so much more then that to her. He just didn't understand, not even her mother understood.

"Your right it is different but not for the reasons you seem to think" she had whispered after that "All knowing" statement and it was after that, that she walked by him.

Talking about death, her father and her heart she felt her colour drain felt the pain of lose fresh all over again girls where just built that way more in tune with their feelings and Cara well her feelings where near a breaking point.

The pain, the memories his words where just to much and it was because of this that he legs failed her and she crumbled to the ground.

She hadn't past out all together when she felt him picking her up her eyes seeing a mist and haze as they remained open.

He settled her down back in one of the stalls and it was a moment before she felt a cold cloth on her forehead.

This only mixed her up even more.

"No one understands father no one knows what we had" she breathed of whispered breath.

She wrapped her arms around herself feeling the ghostly touch of her fathers tight hugging embrace making her skin came awash with goose bumps.

She looked up with Eric sad eyes looking into his.

"Maybe it's best if we just back to pretending I'm not even there."

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

Eric had never been good when it came to stressful situations. Sure he'd dealt with a broken bone and things like that but rarely had he dealt with someone who had fainted. He'd helped his father on his construction sites and they'd all been well versed in the basics of first aid. But since the men were smart enough to stay hydrated and eat enough they'd never had someone pass out... except once... and that had been because of a heart attack... not because of some unknown reason.

So as Eric carefully carried the girl to a stall and began wiping her feverish skin with a cool rag. He may not know what might have caused her to faint but he was sure it was something that wasn't to big of a deal. "No one understands father no one knows what we had" she muttered and Eric only sighed and continued to wipe off her face as she wrapped her arms around herself, goosbumps forming on her skin and Eric relaxed, goosbumps meant her body was reacting in a normal way... that was good.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him the sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart and he wanted to hold her and tell her that he understood but he couldn't bring himself to do it... not after what he'd said to her. "Maybe it's best if we just back to pretending I'm not even there." she muttered weakly and Eric shook his head. "Maybe we should just forget that for a little while hmm? Let you relax a little bit..." he suggested gently as he continued wipe off her face with the rag, not surprised if she tried ot push him away.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

Cara only sighed letting her eyes drift closed praying that she would a;ways have her dreams as a retreat from the real world that was full of yin and yang so many bad things with so many good. It just seemed that the bad was all piled together.

With her eyes closed she fell into a wonderful dream her father before her, together laughing never to of known sadness her heart whole and open stead of the cold state it was in now.

She had been tricked before my nights teasing dream and so she opened her eyes again cursing herself for being so weak.

Watching Eric though hazed eyes she saw him shack his head.

"Maybe we should just forget that for a little while hmm? Let you relax a little bit..."

She lay there still feeling her father around her a small content smile spreading across her face.

"We...wer...were only hurting each other" she whispered "I don't want anyone else lest of all you."

Her head felt heavy but still she tried to stand she couldn't stand his cold shoulder and then this not again it sent to many mixed messages.

As she tried to stand her shoulder bag slipped from her shoulder landing on the floor her art book spilling out it's pages open to the page where she had done a drawing of Eric. On the next page, like every other person she had meet, she had written a little bit about him.

Kind and sweet he was the only one who helped me, the only one I wanted to open up to, I never thought I'd be able to do that and it helps so much.

She had left it there and then she had made a later date this one saying.

It's like he looks at me through hating eyes, like he'd rather me dead then have me anywhere near him. I see him smile at everyone else and for me... a cold shoulder I've lost other.

[angelofthenight]

Eric Pederson

Eric knew she was still angry with him and there was nothing he could do about it. If he started being so nice to her it would only confused him more and add one more person to worry about to his long list of people. "We...wer...were only hurting each other" she whispered "I don't want anyone else lest of all you." she whispered and Eric flinched and sighed. He watched her try to get up and while part of him wanted to stop her the other part of him had no desire whatsoever to do so let her struggle to get up... let her see that she needed his help.

As she stood her bag slipped from her shoulder and a book feel out of it, first it opened to page... a drawing... a drawing of him! Eric was about to pick it up and look at it when the page flipped and he saw an inscription written in a neat hand. Picking up the book he read it with an emotionless face. Kind and sweet he was the only one who helped me, the only one I wanted to open up to, I never thought I'd be able to do that and it helps so much. Eric frowned at this as his eyes wandered down to another inscription... written in the same neat hand. It's like he looks at me through hating eyes, like he'd rather me dead then have me anywhere near him. I see him smile at everyone else and for me... a cold shoulder I've lost other. he sighed as he shut the book and looked at her. "I'm so sorry Cara..." he whispered and without a word he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry..." he repeated, holding her close and hoping it was enough... for it was all that he could give.

[witch]

Cara Andovea

Cara could feel her bag slipping was shocked when it landed on the one page she hoped he would never see not because of what it had in it but because of what she felt about him over the time she had meet him.

She stood still as he read the words ready to run (if she could), to get an ear full but that wasn't what happened.

The words of "I'm so sorry Cara..." filled her ear and she gasped from surprise as he wrapped her in his arms.

"I'm so sorry..."

This made her heart skip a beat all breath leave her for a moment and she thanked god she hadn't written about how he made her skin tingle and burn something she still didn't understand.

Because of her haze she didn't ran only let herself be hugged.

"I...I'm sorry to."

Before she knew it her tongue ran away from her words spilling before she even knew they where.

"Lizzy was lucky to have you in her life."

She bit her lip soon after that as she realized what she had said but shacking her head she only smiled.

"I'll see you around Eric I'm glad that we're okay again."

Sure things where a little rocky but still at lest now he was talking to her. Picking up her bag once again she put the book back into it.

"Bye for now"

And with that said she left.


((Thread Ended))

[angelofthenight]

OOC: For Calvin and Mark BIC:

Calvin Booth (http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/2500000/David-Boreanaz-david-boreanaz-2517053-640-427.jpg)

The stables was the only part of the Opera House that Calvin had never been in. He'd purposely stayed away just because he didn't like the eerie feeling of the place. Plus, though he would never admit it to anyone.. he suffered from slight claustrophobia. It was something he'd kept to himself for a while. The only person that knew as Jared. It had been when Calvin had been staying with them after returning from Iraq... he'd spent nearly three months in that dark underground cell that didn't so much as let a shred of light in. Oxygen had been low... and for three weeks Calvin had been tied to a stake near the wall.. to weak from starvation and dehydration to pull himself away from it he'd began to imagine things... like the wall tumbling down on top of him and for the longest time when he came home from Iraq he'd had to sleep with the light on and the door open with all the blinds pulled up away from the windows.. he wanted everythign to be as open as possible... he never wanted the feeling of being locked up in a small dark space ever again.. the very thought of sent shivers up his spine and as he pushed the heavy door to the stables open he tried to fight back the slight fear that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.. even though it had been almost three years since the horrific events of Iraq he still couldn't shake them... and the fears that came with the memories.

Calvin woudl not be in the stable for any other reason except for work. He'd always been very dedicated to his work.. doing things that he never would have done other wise just to get his job done and get it done to the best of his ability. He let the large, heavy wooden door close behind him with a loud a thud and he squinted in the darkness. He could hear the rain against the wood, rythmatically beating on the old, rusty tin roof. He looked around. The stable was very dimly lit and Calvin removed a flashlight from hsi jacket pocket in a hopes of seeing better. He wore a black jacket, a brownish red, t-shirt and grayish black pants. Though it had been warm almost all week the temperature had suddenly plummeted and Calvin had dressed accordingly. The only thing he didn't have on him that he was used to carrying was his nine millimeter pistol that he typically had strapped to his belt. The only reason he didn't have it was because the note he'd recieved in an oddly familiar but unidentifiable hand had told him to come to the stable unarmed... there he would find a reliable source that would give him imformation on an investigation that he and his partner were working... if he brought hsi gun.. he woudln't get the imformation he seeked... he reminded himself that he was donig this for the sake of the investigation and slowly he made his way further into the stable... stale hay crunching beneath his black convers.

He'd started working again.. much to his relief. Rebecca was back at worth though she seemd different and distant compared to how she'd been before. She seemed to always be sneaking around and making up excuses for why she aws doing so. Though he was both curious and concerned he didn't ask questions... he didn't want her upset with him. Then there was the problems that were still persisting with Taressa. The only reason he was able to work was because the wife of one of his friends in the department agreed to watch Parker sinc eshe was staying home with her three year old daughter until she went to school in the fall.. which was when Parker would start attending school as well. Taressa was still working like crazy though he had noticed she was making an effort come home on time she still worked through lunch and some times stayed a couple hours late... Calvin stil,l found that he ws falling asleep on the couch.. often times she was to tired to do anything except fall right into bed when she arrived hom and had a bite of leftovers from what Calvin and Parker had eaten for dinner... it still upset Calvin he was still upset over everything... perhaps the only joys he was finding out of life at the moment were Parker... and an interesting clarinetest he'd just met by the nam eof Rosaline Mason... but she allowed him to call her Rosie.

He smield at the very thought of her... though whenever she did surface in his mind he had to fight back soem guilt for betraying Taressa faith in him. It wasn't like he'd done anything with Rosaline that would enable Taressa to accuse him of unfaithfulness to her but he felt that he was heading in that direction... that he'd jumped off the edge of the cliff... and though he was now falling.. he knew that eventually he would hit the ground... and suffer the pain of the impact. Calvin had always been someone with high moral standards.. he'd always tried to be a good person and to treat people with the respect that he deserved. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt Taressa.. quiet the contrary.. he wanted to make her just as happy as he had when he'd known her in college.. but it seemedd that they were slowly drifting apart... as were he and Rebecca... the only constants in his life were Rosaline.. whose smile evoked in him a feeling that he couldn't yet describe.. and Parker.. who seemed to return Calvin's affections ten fold... while everything else in his life seemed to be spiraling out of his control he clung to Parker and Rosaline... praying that he wouldn't have to go without either of those constants... both of which were keeping him from going completely insane from lonliness and solitude.

Calvin took a deep breath and forced himself from his thoughts. He looked around and glanced at the watch on his wrist.. a gift from Parker for his thirty-first birthday. It was five minutes till he was supposed to be here and he leaned against a post of a vacant stall that looked as if it had been empty for years. He told himself that all of this was part of the job... even the waiting around that sometimes drove him insane. He leaned back agaisnt the post and closed hsi eyes for a moment... allowing the sound fo the rain to take him away into a world that held no confusion or guilt... all that was there was a peace... a peace that he longed ot have in his life. It was then that he heard the sound of hay crunching beneath heavy footsteps... he instictievley stiffened and opened his eyes... his brown eyes sweeping the smie darkness around him. He hated this. It was dark.. the only source of light in the stable was the lightening the lit up the sky every once in the while.. the only sound was the booming thunder that cracked through the air... Calvin automatically reached for his gun that was usually in his coat pocket.. then he remembered that he was unarmed and he cursed. He knew he wasn't alone.. and so he pushed himself off the wall and stood there.. completely calm... though inwardly he was speculating on who was with him... for he knew without a doubt that he wasn't alone...

[Black Mask]

Mark Blaze


Entering the old stables, Mark Blaze easily opened the large, wooden door that served as its entrance. His black clothing blended perfectly with the darkness around him, making him look like he was a shadow himself. Thoughts of pain and torture ran through his mind as he head toward where his prey would surely be at. Yes, he was planning revenge against Calvin Booth and his plan was growing with every step he took. He had used Rebecca’s want for his help to his advantage, telling her that if she wanted him to train her then she would have to get him a meeting with Booth along with some other things that she had agreed to. It work just as he planned and now her partner was a sitting duck, waiting to be hurt. Thunder rumbled as lightning illuminated the stables, revealing Mark Blaze in his usual attire and his grey green eyes empty of any emotion for a split second before the stables were plunged into darkness once more. The dark haired couldn’t help but stop for a moment to admire the storm that was above him, his eyes still emotionless. Not only did he love the dark, he loved lightning storms, they were both beautiful and dangerous. He wondered slightly why people were afraid of lightning. Besides the fact that it could kill you, it was a wonderful thing to behold not only in photos, but also in real life. Thoughts returning back to his plans for the officer, he continued on his way to where the stalls were. He looked around the area for any signs of the officer, his sight not hindered by the darkness that surrounded him. The larger man was used to being in the dark so he could see his surroundings more clearly than others, something he relied on when he roamed through the night when he couldn’t sleep from the nightmares. Movement a few yards away from him immediately caught his attention and he knew that it was Calvin, making him smirk slightly. It seemed that Booth had heard his footsteps on the hay that was on the floor and he was on high alert for anything.

‘Such a pity he isn’t looking behind himself.’ he thought sarcastically to himself, his smirk growing more darkly as he planned to set his plan into motion. With light and precise steps to make sure he made as little sound as possible to not caught the other man’s attention, Mark slowly stalked towards him until he was right behind, lightning once more lighting the stables, casting a long and large shadow over Booth for a moment before returning to darkness. He could already tell this was going to be fun, at least for him. It wouldn’t like last time when he had to run in order to treat his wounds. No, this time he would be the victor and it would be Calvin running away with his tail tucked between his legs. That’s if he’s able to move when he gets done with done. Mark would not play around as he did last time, he meant business this time and he would sate his thirst for sweet revenge. A low and ominous chuckle escaped from the larger man, looking down at the officer with a baleful grey green stare.

“Booth, what a pleasant surprise finding you here in the bowls of the Opera House. Shouldn’t you be helping your female companion with harming innocent people or has she left you alone in the dark to fend off the monsters that call it home?” he questioned in a low, almost animalistic growl, now glaring at the smaller man in front of him.

[angelofthenight]

Calvin Booth

Calvin was starting to wish that he'd brought his gun. Though he'd initially been trained to fight without one going into the military he drew a strange comfort from knowing he had it should he need it. He was not used to being the one that was watched. Since he'd been a sniper he was used to being the one that watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to make the fatal shot.. he was used to being in control and now he was anything but. He no longer just heard someone he felt them... he could swear he could hear the sound of breathing as he pushed off the post and looked around in the darkness. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a flashlight.. glad that he'd at least had sense enough to bring that. Clicking the switch he waited for the beam to flicker on and then slowly examined his surrounding.. the hay which was brown and moldy seemed to add to the eeriness of it all and Calvin took a step forward, careful to keep the post behind him so no one could sneak up on him. His drifted over old saddles and bridals hanging on hooks in a far corner... there were a couple of pitchforks stuck in piles of old hay... a knife used for cutting the ropes that bound the bales of hay... and piles of old wood from demolished stalls that seemed just as old as the building itself.

Calvin checked his watch again.. turning on the light that would illuminate the screen he stared at the time. It was now five minutes passed the time that his informant was supposed to show up and Calvin wasn't patient when it came to meetings. It was oddly ironic that Calvin was so punctual now. When he'd been in school he'd been late for practically every class for one reason or another.. weather it was being caught in a heated debate with another teacher or fellow classmate or just because he'd taken his own sweet time in getting his things. He'd been a favorite though so more often then not the teachers hadn't marked him late... making it easier for him to credit for the class without actually having to arrive on time. The military had beat that habit out of him along with numerous other bad habits... he'd become uncommonly organized.. obsessed with keeping himself fit and strong... not to mention proficient with most guns that were used in the army, navy, marines, and in regular police department like he was working now. The problem was he didnt' have a gun now... so he was trying to remember everything he'd learned in the defense classes he'd taken.. from the way his companion in the stables was slinking around and not revealing himself Calvin was sure he would need it.

It was then that he became aware of a looming presence behind him. “Booth, what a pleasant surprise finding you here in the bowls of the Opera House. Shouldn’t you be helping your female companion with harming innocent people or has she left you alone in the dark to fend off the monsters that call it home?” Calvin knew that voice... it was difficult to forget. He and Rebecca had taught Mark Blaze a lesson in their last encounter but Calvin wasn't sure he could do the same now. His found was out of service down here in the depths of the Opera House.. he had no gun.. and yet he found that he wasn't afraid. It was like all the street fights he'd ever gotten into. Though the men he'd fought on the streets of downtown New York as a young teenager struggling to find a place in this world hadn't been seven feet tall he assured himself that the same concept applied and slowly he turned to face the man that stood behind him.. not close enough to hit.. but close enough that Calvin could feel the man's ominous presence even before he'd heard his bone chilling voice echo through the deserted stables... another clap of thunder crashed through the air and went it died away Calvin spoke... feeling as if everything was louder then it really was... and he knew neither of them was going to escape this encounter without some kind of scar to show for it....

"What my partner and I do is none of your business..." Calvin replied coldly... a slight smirk turning up the corners of his lips... he knew a fight was coming.. he could sense it... "Besides I thought you would have learned your lesson that last time... after all you did slink away like a wounded animal..." he provoked.. knowing it would anger the man. It was at that moment that Calvin realized he'd been set up... someone had orchestrated it so that Mark and Calvin would end up in the same place at the same time.. alone. Who would do such a thing? Calvin couldn't begin to guess and so instead he focused not on things that couldn't be helped but the danger that towered over him. He knew that what Mark wanted to see was fear and Calvin was about to give them man that satisfaction. Boldly Calvin gazed into the man's gray, unfeeling eyes, his brown eyes just as cold. "I'm not afraid of you Mr. Blaze...." he said simply... saying the man's name with a burning disdain that seared him to his core. He'd never hated someone so much as he hated Mark at that moment... the whole world seemed to have fallen silent around them.. and now all that waited to be seen... was who would be the person to make the first move...

[Black Mask]

Mark Blaze


The larger man could feel his bloodlust growing, no doubt his darker side was the cause of it. Usually he would have tried to push it away or to ignore it, but right now he really didn’t care, in fact, he wanted it. He would get his revenge for his humiliating defeat at the hands of Calvin and he would use anything, even let his darker half have control, to get it. He wasn’t doing this to Rebecca because he was going to train her and he would be able to hurt her whenever he was doing her training and she wouldn’t complain. The dark haired man already had a plan that was foolproof and this time it had no mind games in it, just pure violence. Once more the darkness was his ally and this time he knew that Calvin was not fond of the dark, which made his plan even more foolproof. As the thunder once more rumbled above the men, Mark silently stalked over to where the officer was, making sure his footsteps were light and quiet as possible. The other man was alert and looking around him to see if there was anything out of the ordinary, but yet he did not look behind him which was a foolish thing to do on his part. When he stopped in his tracks, the larger of the two was behind him, towering over the officer. Chuckling darkly, he question the officer why was he not with his partner, revealing that Mark was right behind him. Slowly, the smaller man turned toward him, seeing that he was not in hitting range, but was close enough to see the glare that came from him. Mark could tell that Booth was not afraid of him which did not surprise him at all nor did it disappoint him in the slightest. Even though it would make it easier for him if Booth was afraid of him, he didn’t mind him not being afraid, it would just mean more of a challenge for him, which he enjoyed. Once more thunder rang throughout the stables and once it faded away, Calvin began to speak.

"What my partner and I do is none of your business..." he started with a icy tone, smirking slightly and in turn making Mark smirk darkly, but with a entirely different reason, "Besides I thought you would have learned your lesson that last time... after all you did slink away like a wounded animal..." he taunted, his smirk still in place even though he would have to fight to get out of here. If he wanted to make the larger man angry, it was working, the scowl that quickly replaced the smirk signaled that. Through his rage, Mark could tell that Booth had realized that he had been set up, that someone had purposely made it so that the both of them would be in a place alone and unarmed. The larger man wondered how he would reacted when he figured out that it was his own partner that almost got him killed. It was a even playing field you could say, they both didn’t have any weapons and it was one-on-one, but Mark had the advantage because of his size and strength. He knew that the smaller man would not show any fear because he believed that was what Mark wanted to see. Yes, he did want to see the officer cower in fear in front of him, but as before, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to make him pay for what he did to him last time they met. The officer looked up at him, his cold brown gaze meeting Mark’s emotionless yet heated one, remaining in his place as thunder crashed again along with lightning that silhouetted Mark’s tall and imposing figure.

"I'm not afraid of you Mr. Blaze...." Calvin stated plainly, meaning what he said. The way the officer had said his name told Mark that he despised him with every fiber of his being. He cared little for it though and it did not affect him whatsoever, being used to hated by everyone around him made him numb to that. With a menacing chuckle, he took a threatening step toward him, not really caring if the other man would attack him right now. He curled his hands into large fists before speaking.

“And you think I care why?” he snarled sarcastically, taking a other step forward, “The only thing I learned from last time is that officers can’t take down a single person without a gun and backup. Know that we’re here, let’s see if that theory is correct, shall we?” he let out a other sinister chuckle, “And don’t worry, no one can hear your screams.” he said darkly, a insane glint in his eyes. Before Calvin knew it, Mark had already took a quickly step forward and let his fist fly, his large fist landing hard in his gut. Using his other hand, the larger man grabbed the officer by the throat and easily threw him, sending him crashing into the nearest wall and landing on the hay stack below him. The dark haired man began to stalk toward where Booth had landed, readying for a other attack.

OOC: If you want me to change anything during their fight, just PM me and I will. BIC:

[angelofthenight]

OOC: I will do that. If you want me to change anything just let me know too. BIC:

Calvin Booth

Calvin was used to street fighting. No weapons. He'd grown up on it. From those fights Calvin had learned many things and one of those included knowing when you were outmatched. He knew he was outmatched in every way except one. Calvin had speed on his side. The man was big yes but if he could get him on the ground somehow he knew he could get a leg up... as long as he didn't get hurt to badly first. He was having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he'd been set up but that was the only thing that would explain why he and Mark both happened to be here at the same time.. unarmed. Calvin rarely went anywhere unarmed.. the fact that he was unarmed today was just as unnerving as the note he still had in his pocket.. a note that Rebecca had given him but didn't look to be in her hand writing... he wondered who it could possibly be from.. who would want him to end up in a situation like this.. sure he could hold his own.. he wasn't to concerned about that.. and yet Mark knew what he was doing just like he did.. it was going to be a challenge.. and a fight that Calvin was sure.. neither of them would ever forget as long as the had the mental ability to remember it.

Calvin was not exactly sure what his goal was when he told Mark that he wasn't afraid of him. He knew that he wanted to get the man angry... a little salt to the wound before they went at it.. but then again Calvin couldn't help but think that maybe getting him angry wasn't the best idea. He could see that the man had clenched his hands into fists as he chuckled darkly.. sending chills up Calvin's spine. The officer managed to keep his face expressionless though.. he'd always prided himself in being able to maintain his composure in situations such as this. He tried to not think about where he was.. he was certain that the hay would be slick... slick enough that if he made one wrong move he would slip and fall.. which could easily lead to his own demise.. on the upside the same thing could happen to the taller man in front of him. Calvin was wieghing his options as Mark took another step forward.. making him stiffen with the suspense of the first blow.. once the first move was made there would be no more words... simply an all out fight.. may the cleverest man win. Calvin was confident that the big man wouldn't kill him... he was Mark wasn't used to fighting with men who had grown up learning how to fight guys like.. at least had the element of surprise on his side.

“And you think I care why?” Mark laughed when Calvin told the man he wasn't afraid of him. Calvin had been pretty sure that the man didn't care but that didn't matter. He was confident that if he showed fear the man would be even more merciless then if he gave the man standing in front of him a challenge. “The only thing I learned from last time is that officers can’t take down a single person without a gun and backup. Know that we’re here, let’s see if that theory is correct, shall we?” he let out a other sinister chuckle once again causing the hair on the back of Calvin's neck to stand on end... he knew that moment that both of them had come here for was fast approaching. “And don’t worry, no one can hear your screams.” that comment was what did it for Calvin. It had been something his father had said to him in a drunk rage one night and he was suddenly propelled back in time to the night before his old man had left. The man was drunk as always... Calvin was sixteen and was just as tall as his father by now... the man had threatened him.. ordering him out of the house.. so Calvin had punched him in the jaw.. and it had turned into all out brawl...

He wasn't fighting his father now. The man in front of him was much worse the drunken fool that Calvin hated to admit he was kin to. Calvin tensed... he knew Mark would throw the first blow... what he hadn't counted on was a forward one. As another flash of lightening lit up the stable Mark came at him and Calvin, who was intending to move out of the way was slightly taken off guard. He felt Mark's fist collide with his stomach.. causing him to hunch over from the pain. Searing pain shot through his ribs and he wondered if he broke a couple as he felt Mark's other hand close around his throat. Calvin's vision was momentarily blurred and he felt light headed until he was knocked painfully back into reality when he hit the wall that had been closest. He coughed and thought he tasted blood but now was no time to assess his injuries. He laid completely still. His eyes were closed so he relied on his ears. He could hear Mark drawing closer... hear his ragged breaths... feel the menacing presence above him.. he could picture him lifting his foot to kick him and then.. Calvin reached out with his leg and caught the man right in the calf.. kicking with all his might Calvin somehow managed to roll away and scramble to his feet, despite the pain that pierced his side and made him gasp. Mark was now getting to his feet and Calvin took the opportunity to knee him in the jaw... quiet satisfied when he heard a loud popping noise. He knew that this was only the beginning... he tried to focus on his next move. His ribs seemed to be screaming in agony and he went in for another kick... not expecting what Mark did next...

[Black Mask]

Mark Blaze


Mark thought that the officer would have learned last time about angering him. It wasn’t wise to do so because it just made him more intent on hurting whoever made him mad. The officer’s actions had lowered his chances of getting out of this without being in a coma. His laugh rang around the stables and he knew it effect Booth even though he did not show it. The dark haired man always had a effect on people despite of what they had been through, what training they did, or who they were. That was one of the few things that was good about being his size and his appearance. He could intimidate and dominate anyone he wanted to with ease and Calvin was no different. The larger man then questioned him why would he care about him being afraid of him and told him that he only thing he learned from their last encounter was that officers were weak and always needed a weapon and back to take down a person. Once more he let out a bloodcurdling chuckle, seeing that he once again had a effect on the smaller man. He continued on, saying that no one could hear his screams from all the way down here. That seemed to a have some other affect on him, one that the larger man hadn’t expect from him. It seemed he had hit a nerve, which he could use to his advantage, perhaps it had been something he didn’t like people saying. The other man’s body tensed in preparation for a fight, but Mark had to wonder, was he ready for the pain he was about to inflict on him? He highly doubted it. Using speed that wasn’t normal for a man his size, he took a quick step forward as lightning flashed and let his large fist connect with Calvin’s stomach, catching him off guard. As he doubled over in pain, Mark grabbed the man’s throat harshly and tight enough to cut off the air supply to his lungs and threw him to the closest wall like he weighed nothing more than a feather. He smirked in twisted pleasure as he heard Booth’s body crash into the wall and fall to the hay below. He silently made his way toward the fallen man, seeing that his eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. This confused the dark haired man slightly. Surly he couldn’t have won that easily, not the way he fought the last time they met.

“This was too easy.” he thought to himself as he started to reach down to pick up the officer. Suddenly, he felt Calvin’s foot connect hard with his left calf, making him fall to the ground with a grunt. If the hay on the floor wasn’t so slick, he would have been able to keep his footing, but sadly that wasn’t the case. As Mark shook his head, Booth scrambled away from, painfully getting to his feet with a gasp of pain as he did so. The larger man started to get to his feet when suddenly he felt Calvin’s knee connect with his jaw, a sickening pop coming from it and making him fall on his back. Just as quickly as he was knocked down, he sat back up as though nothing had happened, glaring venomously at the officer. The force of the impact from Calvin’s knee and dislocated his jaw, and though it did hurt, he didn’t show no signs of it. Using one hand, he popped his jaw into place as he had done so many times before, making a other sickening pop as he did so. The smaller man tried to kick Mark again, but the dark haired man caught his foot in mid air just before his foot connected to his head. He stood to his feet, keeping the man’s ankle in a bone-crushing grip as he did. Using one arm, he lifted Calvin up into the air by his ankle and with all his strength slammed him back to the ground, letting go of his ankle as he did. Booth hit the ground with a sickening thud, making Mark grin like a madman in satisfaction. Because it was two-on-one and they had weapons last time, he wasn’t able to show just how powerful he was. This time though, he would do just that and more. Walking to where Calvin’s head was, the larger man placed his jet black boot on his throat, cutting of his oxygen supply. Seeing that he in full control, Mark let out a sadistic laugh that echoed off the walls of the stables, thunder crashing once more with lightning flashing, illumining Mark’s features for a split moment. His expression was that of a demon and a madman, a crazed and demonic look in his grey green orbs and a lunatic grin on his face. What he didn’t see though was the pile of fallen wood that was within Calvin’s reach.


OOC: Mark has his own way of sitting back up when he’s been knocked down to the ground, so if you want to see how he does it click this link (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkUSxPwdt8w) BIC:

[angelofthenight]

Calvin Booth

Calvin had known to expect pain when he'd realized that Mark was here to seek his revenge on the officer. He'd experienced before and yet this seemed worse somehow. The realization that he'd been set up... that someone had wanted him to be alone with Mark so that the larger man could get his revenge. Calvin tried to think of who it could be as he laid in the hay, waiting for Mark to come close enough for him to do something. He laid completely still.. nothing moving... his fingers didn't even twitch as he laid there was his eyes closed... acting as if the blow had knocked him out. He tried to imagine what Mark was doing. That was one of the secrets in a fight... try to get inside your opponents head and figure out what they were going to do before they did. He could hear Mark's heavy footsteps.. his looming presence hovered above him like a shadow. Calvin tried to keep his breathing normal but each breath caused him pain to shoot through his ribs and he was certain at that moment that they were broken. He kept his face blank... a great effort on his part considering the condition of his ribs and the position in which he was laying... on the side that he was certain was bruised from Mark's fist...

When Mark got close enough he kicked out with his foot and felt his heel collide with the man's shin. He heard him grunt as he fell and Calvin somehow managed to scramble away from his attacker. The adrenaline was pumping through his vein it was the only thing that helped him get to his feet. He was gasping and out of breath by the time he was standing.. slightly hunched from the pain. Mark was clambering to his feet and for once Calvin was grateful that man was so big. Without though he caught Mark in the jaw with his knee... sending him sprawling onto his back. A satisfying pop filled the air before another crash of thunder tore through the world around them. Calvin could think of nothing except showing the man in front of him that he didn't need a gun to defend himself... in fact the gun that he used was merely a convenience rather then a necessity like most other cops. He took an unsteady breath and kicked out at Mark once more. He felt his blood boiling with hatred for the dark haired giant that had already caused him pain. In the semi darkness he could see Mark, his hand on his jaw... another sickening pop filled the air and Calvin knew that popped his jaw back into place.. something that made Calvin cringe even though he'd done it a couple times himself.. and to friends.

He directed a kick at Mark's head but all of the sudden a hand grabbed his ankle and before Calvin could do anything he was being lifted off the ground. He felt all the blood rush to his head as he was lifted higher into the air. Without warning the ground came up to meet him. The pain in his ankle and arm assailed him almost simultaneously and he heard a sickening snap in his arm and a popping sound in his ankle the moment that ground came up to meet him. He couldn't hold back the whimper that passed his lips as he rolled onto his back... cradling his arm that was limp and useless.. he could feel the sharp tip of the bone through his shirt and as warm blood soaked his sleeve he knew that it was broken and the bone had penetrated the skin. All thoughts of pain however left him as he felt Mark's foot on his throat... suddenly he couldn't breath.. his lungs were on fire.. thirsting for sweet oxygen. Calvin felt panic surge through his veins and his eyes darted wildly from side to side... even as his visions became tinged with black around the edges and he became light headed he frantically looked for a way out of his current predicament that could possibly lead to his death... with the thought of the fact that he might not make he began to search frantically once more.. the last thing he was going to do was let Mark win.

Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky, illuminating the stable and the pile of old wood that was just next to Calvin. He gazed at it for a moment... realizing that the only way he could reach it was with his already broken arm. As the light from the previous flash of lightening died away... plunging them into complete darkness Calvin stretched his hand towards the wood. The pain was enough to make scream out in pain but he gritted his teeth and continued to reach for it. Another flash of lightening and he felt hsi fingers brush the woods. He had to force his hand to close around it and then he pulled... again crying out in pain. He lifted the wood blindly and then he plunged the jagged end deep into Mark's thigh... as deep as it would go before Calvin lost the strength to push it anymore... putting all his weight into he felt it lodge itself deep within the man's side... Calvin immediately released the wood and fell back... his vision swimming before his eyes... he still couldn't breath.. Mark still had his foot and Calvin's throat and he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness... in those last few waking moments of alertness he felt a strange peace come over him... one that he'd never known... and as the darkness prevailed he welcomed it... finally slipping into sweet oblivion.

OOC: If you want the fighting to continue let me know and I"ll change my post. Also if you decide to have Mark do something to Calvin before he takes off run it by me first. BIC:

[Black Mask]

Mark Blaze


When Calvin’s knee connected with his jaw, Mark had been caught off-guard and was sent crashing onto his back. Without a second thought though, he sat right back up as only he could do, ignoring the pain that came with a dislocated jaw. The way he sat up during a fight was unique to say the least and more on instinct that he sat up that way, it was much more quicker than the traditional way. If he was ever knocked to the ground, which was hardly never, he would either immediately sit up let that or what for the perfect moment to do so and almost one-hundred percent of the time it scared his opponent, which worked to his advantage. He used one leather clad hand to relocated his jaw back into place as though he did it everyday and saw the small cringe from the officer when he heard the sickening that came with it. As he once more started to get up again, Booth tried to kick the larger man in the head, but Mark stopped it a split second before it would have connect with his head. He could feel the hatred radiant off the smaller man, but it mattered little to him. To him it was just a other person in the world that hated him, so it was nothing new to him and it did not effect him. Raising to his feet, the larger man kept his vise-like grip on the man’s ankle and lifted him up into the air with one arm, showing just how strong he was, before sending him crashing to the stone ground. Once more, Mark grinned wildly with sick and twisted pleasure as he heard the sickening snap of a bone breaking, something that was music to his ears. He watched silently as the officer painfully rolled onto his back, holding his broken arm in agony. The dark haired heard a small whimper come from Booth, making his insane grin grow even bigger. Mark could see the blood slowly soak his shirt and saw that the bone had pierced the skin even though it had not gone through the shirt. It was then that his bloodlust shot through the roof, making his eyes turn slightly grey in color.

The larger man stalked over to the fallen officer and placed his boot on his throat, applying enough pressure to stop the oxygen flow to his lungs. Booth’s eyes widened in panic as his eyes quickly looked everywhere for a means of escape from Mark’s clutches. Knowing that he was finally going to get his revenge on the officer, the larger man let out a loud and sadistic laugh, a lunatic expression on his features as lightening illuminated the stables. Though he felt small movements from the man underneath his boot, Mark paid no heed to him and did not see him reach from a nearby piece of fallen limber from a wood pile that was near him. It was when Calvin let out a cry of pain that the dark haired giant looked down at him, but it was too late for Mark to do anything. He let out a demonic roar of pain that rang around the stables as he felt the sharp end of the wood go deep into his thigh opposite of the leg he was using on the officer’s throat. He glared down at him as he felt the wood go into his leg as the smaller man put all his weight onto it before feel back onto his back. Though it was painful to, Mark kept his balance and kept the pressure on his throat. It was only when he knew that Calvin was unconscious that he removed his boot from the man’s throat and stumbling to a nearby stall, placing all his weight onto one of its walls. He looked down at his leg to see what the damage was and how he was going to treat it. It was a gruesome sight to behold, at least to others because Mark had seen much worse. The large piece of wood was lodged deep into his leg and had surprisingly missed tearing his trench coat. Wrapping one black gloved hand around the end of the wood, Mark pulled it out as quick as possible without doing anymore damage, letting out a low hiss as he did so.

The larger man held it in his hand for a moment, examining the blood-covered jagged end of the wood with emotionless eyes. He then threw the piece of limber to the side, it landing in front of the unconscious officer and almost hitting him, before looking back down at the wound. With the wood out now, he could see what sort of damage it did, which was nothing more than a large and deep hole that showed torn muscles and almost reached the bone. Remembering what Cara had done for his bullet wound, he tore off a piece of his black shirt and wrapped it around his leg to try and stop the bleeding, which had begun once more when he pulled out the wound. Pushing himself off the stall wall, he sent a heated glare at Booth, but soon a triumphant smirk grew on his lips. It might have not been the way he wanted it to end, but he did come out victorious and he had gotten his revenge. With a slight limp, he began to walk toward the entrance of the stables.

“Until next time, officer.” Mark spat before disappearing into the shadows.

OOC: Mark has left the scene. If you need me change something, PM me. BIC:

[angelofthenight]

OOC: Go ahead and bring Rebecca in Erica. BIC:

Calvin Booth

Calvin was dreaming. It was the first time he'd ever slept and not had a nightmare in almost two years. He was back home... at the baseball field with David and his friends. Gong to play baseball with his older brother had always been the highlight of his week. He was wearing one of David's older baseball uniforms... holding a bat that was almost as tall as his small nine year old body. David's were cheering for him.. telling him to hit the ball out of the park. His brother was on the pitchers mound... smiling. Calvin knew that David wouldn't take it easy on him.. he never would.. said that just because they were related didn't mean he had to play favorites. Calvin readied himself and when David through his infamous curve ball Calvin swung at it. He felt the bat collide with the ball and started to run.. not waiting to see where the ball went. He made it to first... rounded second... passed third.... he was almost home when he felt somehow behind him. Still he kept running... wanting to make it to home.. to make David proud of him.. he jumped and slid... the kid that was acting as umpire yelled that he was safe and he heard the boys on his team cheer and felt them pat him on the back. He saw David beaming and telling some of his friends that Calvin was his little brother.. as if they didn't already know...

He awoke suddenly to the sound of rain on the tin roof. He could feel the thunder vibrating the ground where he laid. He was not aware of anything at first except the dryness in his throat and taste of blood in his mouth. He rolled onto his side and spit and that was when the pain hit him. He gasped and rolled back onto his back. His shirt sleeve was caked with dried blood and hay had stuck to it. He stared at it... limp and useless at his side. He looked at the blood on his hands and knew that a large majority of it was not his own. At that thought he suddenly became aware of where he was and what had happened. He wondered where Mark had gotten to... rather surprised that the larger man had left him alive at all... Calvin had thought for sure that when he'd lost consciousness that Mark would simply finish him off.. maybe the man was in to much pain from the wood Calvin had drove into his leg to do much more of anything. Calvin looked at the ceiling.. he was finding it difficult to breath and he knew walking would be virtually impossible without someone's help. Still he tried to get himself up into a sitting position using only his good arm. He managed to get halfway before the pain became to much and laid back down on the hay that was soaked with his own blood.

He knew he wasn't going anywhere... he'd never felt so helpless or foolish in his life. He should have brought a gun. It shouldn't have mattered what the note said.. he should have figured something was up but he hadn't and now he was suffering the consequences. He wondered what Rebecca would say when she found out about what had happened. Would she be hurt that he hadn't at least told her where he was going? Would she feel as if he were keeping secrets from her? He winced as another clap of thunder broke through the air. His head throbbed painfully and he was sure he would find a decent bump there. He'd hit his head when he hit the wall. He turned his head to see the wood that was still covered with blood. He reached for it with his good hand and used for leverage. He finally made it to a sitting position and managed to drag himself over tot he wall... slumping against he pulled up his pant leg to examine the damage done to his ankle and cringed when he saw it. The join was black and blue... Calvin knew it had been popped out of place and that he wouldn't be going anywhere until he popped it back in... he glanced once at his broken arm and knew that he wouldn't be able to do it...

Suddenly he found that all of this was rather amusing. He let out a soft chuckle and then laughed for a moment before he began to cough as his ribs protested. He knew then that he was going into shock... he felt light headed once more and though he knew he had to stay awake he couldn't help but lay on his left side... keeping his broken arm close to his body. He closed his eyes... suddenly overcome with exhaustion... he wasn't sure how much blood he lost... quiet a bit he was sure from the way he was feeling. He felt himself slowly drifting off and when he heard the door to the stable open he didn't even lift his head. He tried to open his eyes but his lids were to heavy... he could barely catch his breath. He could hear someone walking towards him and he wondered if it was Mark... come back to finish the job. Calvin moaned groggily and he heard the footsteps speed up. Whoever was here was calling his name... they were trying to get him to respond. He tried to tell them that he was awake but his tongue felt swollen and his throat was so dry all he could do was whimper.... he was certain that if it was Mark the man would be pleased.. yet he had to try to speak... finally he managed to croak almost inaudibly... "Get me some water... please..." he knew that if he had a drink it would help him a great deal... at least he would be able to talk some...

[WanderingChild<3]

Rebecca Cross

Booth,
Meet me at the stables near the Opera House, asap. New investigation.
-Rebecca

He should have known; he shouldn't have gone. Why couldn't his notorious gut feeling have kicked in this afternoon? Wouldn't he suspect she would just call him like she usually did when a new investigation came up? Rebecca hadn't written that note. No one in the office did; and it was left on his desk before anyone had gotten to work. It only meant one thing to her- someone had set him up. She had backup with her; and it didn't even take her ten minutes to get to the Populaire the rate she was going. She sprinted toward the door, grasping the glock with two hands, and praying she just wasn't too late now.

"Cross!" One of the dark haired Agents whispered, meeting her by her position pinned against the door of the entrance to the stables. "What do you want us to do?" He asked of her, cocking his head toward the men that stood fully armed yards away.

Rebecca's heart pounded, becoming impatient. Every second they wasted, was another second away to getting from Booth. In this business, a second could mean so much. "I'm going in by myself," She explained in a faint murmur, her hands gripping the glock tighter, her eyes fixated on the door. "If someone's in there, we don't want all our Agents going in there. He might act out." She almost choked on her own words; the thought sending a pang in her chest. Whoever it was, they wouldn't act out; she would make sure of it. "How do you know that Calvin responded to your-or whoever's note?" Her eyes glinted at him now like two silver bullets. Did he think now was the time to question this things? "Because he's a good partner, that's why." She spat at him, her eyes twinkling with pure anger and determination. Something that always happened when she was about to rush into a situation that could be ugly. Only now it was different; now it was personal.

The Agent left, and now all that was waited on, was her entry. Once she entered she would be left with whomever was in there, and whatever state her partner was in. The thought made her almost gasp outloud to herself, as she stormed into the stables. Her gun pointed in every direction, her eyes scanning wildly the structure. "Police Freeze!" She screamed out, but no one was there. Nothing.

Just then, a cough was heard. It was Booth. Rebecca's eyes widened, "Booth?!" She called out, running to one of the nearby stables where the cough and audible groans came from. She then met a lying and struggling Booth on the floor, crimson blood seeped around him; his head having a knot, scratches and tears everywhere, and wort of all, his bone was sticking out from his arm. Her breathing became heavy, as she flung herself at his side. "Booth!" She breathed, panting wildly, at first in shock of what she was seeing; her whole body beginning to shake. The image was horrible. He looked so helpless; so much in pain.

"Get me some water..." He croaked, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, obviously unaware of his surroundings.

Ignoring his request for now, Rebecca reached for her walkie talkie in her black blazer, gathering Booth's head carefully into her lap. "We have a 10-24!" She shouted into the speaker, her voice quaking and desperate. "I need a 10-57, immediatly! Agent...Agent down." She said, her voice breaking, as her eyes began to well up with tears almost. Throwing the talkie to the side, she quickly ripped open her shirt, so she was wearing just a blank camisole, and threw it on his arm, to apply pressure and help stop the bleeding a bit. "Hang on Booth, c'mon Booth.." She pleaded with him, her fingers brushing through his hair. "Just stay with me, okay? It's me, Bones. You've gotta' stay awake with me. Helps on the way..." If only she had come sooner; if only she had come to work early as she had done every other day.

Realizing that they possibly weren't alone, she reached into her holster, throwing out her glock, and pointing it around them, her eyes searching and going to Booth, dabbing his temples, so he wouldn't fall asleep. Her eyes looked into his, wide and begging. "It's alright! I'm here! Just stay with me. I need you to just stay awake, Booth." She repeated, checking his pulse and seeing that it was there, but slow. A single tear fell from her reddened cheek, his crimson blood, oozing onto her hand and arm. "Calvin," She murmured, dropping her head to his, the glock still held above her head. She kissed the top of his head. "Stay with me."

[angelofthenight]

Calvin Booth

Everything seemed to be a blur. He could hear someone moving above him. He knew that the individual was calling his name trying to get him to respond but he could barely open his eyes. His arm was throbing, his head ached and he coudl barely breath. Yet he tried to lock in on the voice, trying to identify it. The voice was to high to belong to a male officer any other man for that matter. After a moment he figured that Mark had come to finish him off as he'd originally worried he would. His mind was clouded from the pain... the frantic thoughts of not being able to breath. His lungs felt they were on fire but when he tried to take a breath he coughed and though he tasted blood though he wasn't sure. It was then that he felt the person beside him.. hek new that presnce... he would know it anywhere. It was Rebecca. She'd come for him. He knew she would. She cared about him.... he just wondered how she'd figured out that he was here if she hadn't been the one to write the note... he recalled rather hazily leaving it on his desk but he coud have sworn he'd told one the secretaries to throw it away when he'd left... he should have thought it through... he shouldnt' have been so stupid... so completely foolish... now he was paying the consequence for the wrong choice that he'd made.

Through the fog of his mind he felt hands.... Rebecca's hands... on his head. He felt her lift him ever so careful so his head was resting in her lap and he felt his whole body relax... the feelings of helplessness and vulnerability leaving him fro the moment.. because Rebecca was here.... and he knew she woudl protect him... even if he was a poor excuse for a cop at the moment. We have a 10-24!" She shouted into the speaker it was enough to make his body respond... he felt adrenaline course through his viens.. enough that his good hand released his broken arm and rested on her wrist.. trying to show her that he wasn't as badly injured as she thought... alright well maybe he was as badly injured as she thought.. but he ddint' want her to worry.. he woudl make it.. he was sure he would make it. "I need a 10-57, immediatly! Agent...Agent down." he heard her say and he managed to open his eyes which were glazed over from the pain. He gazed up at her face.. she was obviously distraught he was certain she'd noticed his broken arm. He could see the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks and he wanted to comfort her but his tounge was swollen and his mouth was dry... he'd asked her for water but she hadn't gotten him any.. and he understood... she didn't want to leave him alone.

The next thing he knew she'd ripped off her shirt and was doing something was his arm. It was then that a pain unlike anythign he'd felt yet assaided him and he tried to roll away from her.. tried to get away... but she held him.. she wasn't about to let him go. Did she know she was hurting him... he tried to tell her... but his ribs protested and he was only able to whimper once more... he felt hsi vision begin to grow fuzzy around the edges.. he knew he had to stay awake... but the pain was so much.. so overwhelming. "Hang on Booth, c'mon Booth.." She pleaded with him, her fingers brushing through his hair. He roled his head to the side onher lap.. his fingers which still rested n her wrist falling slowly away. "Just stay with me, okay? It's me, Bones. You've gotta' stay awake with me. Helps on the way..." he opened his mouth to tell her that he would try... that he was trying but he began to cough and his ribs ached with each breath he tried to take.... he thought for sure he was being ripped in two when the coughing subsided as did the agonizing pain in his ribs. His whole was covered in a cold sweat. He coudl feel her moving from where his head rested on her lap.. he coudl hear the sound of her heart... it was oddly soothing.. like a lullaby... he felt his eye lids beginning to droop.

"It's alright! I'm here Just stay with me. I need you to just stay awake, Booth." she pleaded and he felt her unsusually cold fingers agianst his neck, obviously she was checking to see if he was still breathing.. he was.. despite how difficult it was becoming he was still struggling to stay awake.. still fighting.. for her... "Calvin," She murmured and he opened his eyes slightly, shocked that she'd used his first name... she never did... as long as they'd known each other she'd never used his first name. He felt her lips brush agianst his forehead and he forced his eyes not to close... to keep himself from slipping away into the welcoming darkness that was looming just above him... he coudl easily go to sleep... it woudl be so easy jsut to drift off... but it was her pleas that kept him from doing so... he coudlnt' fall asleep... because she didnt' want him to. "Stay with me." she paled again and he nodded, he wasn't sure how he did it but he did and he lifted his hand, his good hand, to rest on her lower arm... he could feel her skin beneath his fingertips and though he knew his touch was as light as a feather he hoped that it was enough to show her that he was trying to stay... with her.

"I should have... I should have thought through.." He gasped, finally finding his voice. "I... can't.. I was stupid... and I can't breath.." he wasn't event hinking as he struggled to speak... he knew there was something she needed to do if they were going to get him out of here but he coudln't remember what. "there's no one here.. he left... he left..." he whimpered and then he forced hsi eyes to open once more.. though he was sure they distant and far away.. it was then that he remmbered his ankle... how he needed someone else to pop it back into place so he coudl llimp out of here. "My ankle Bones... my ankle... I need to get my shoe off... its... cutting off the circulation..." he told her, hoping she owudl understnad his broken almsot unitteligable speech. "I'm so sorry Bones... I'm so sorry..." was the last thing he managed to say before another coughing fit siezed him and he tried not to show her just how much pain he was in. Despite all of it though.. he knew he woudl make it through this... because she was there to help him. He coudl do anything if she was there by his side. She was his confident and his companion... his friend and his toughest critic... but above all... she was his partner.

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Easy is open to meeting anyone interested~a previous acquaintance or someone new. BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

For many reasons, Easy had been unable to return to Franconi's Stables, where "his" stalls awaited more work after being neglected since late fall. As he entered the cool shadows of the structure, he felt himself relaxing, leaving behind rehearsals, lessons and emotional troubles that nagged at him. Perhaps physical activity was what he needed, that and quiet~though solitude hadn't seemed to help much that he could recall. He had brought his violin and some music, wondering about~What had Devlon Deemer called them?~wood mite babies? Would they try to attack the violin here, too? He smiled at the thought, continuing toward the stalls that he had claimed as his, wondering if his fortune would continue, with his "ownership" unchallenged, as with his lair in the Vast Dungeons.

Reaching the farthest of the stalls, he set down the violin on a wooden crate that had not been moved since he was last there, giving him hope that his pet project could continue. His satchel was weighed down with music to practice, as well as bottles of water, several candy bars and, because he was trying to not pass out again in the foreseeable future, a roast beef sandwich. It seemed the stuff didn't taste so bad cold either, unlike trying to down a cold hamburger. Whatever Iah Raksha did to it worked because he found himself not dreading his lunch break.

Easy was torn between starting work immediately, including getting rid of debris that had built up over the past months, or practicing some passages he needed to be sharper on. He was dressed for physical labor, wearing a pair of worn but unripped jeans, a plain black T-shirt, a lightweight denim jacket, more of a windbreaker, as he had heard them referred to, and rather plain black sneakers only a little worn, rather streamlined ones because he hated the weight of most of that style of shoe. He had become very conscious of his clothes against him and would have gone without a jacket or shirt to cover up if not for the scars that would take too much explaining. But, wasn't it Jules who had told him that he should let them be seen so that people would be used to them and not bother asking about them? He wished that he had not thought of the young Frenchman who had been his lover for such a brief time. Was lover even accurate? For Jules, he probably was a fling, a tumble, slightly beyond a one-night stand. It hurt to be always in the dark about what Jules had thought of him or how little he had bothered to think of Easy Tanner, who had lived up to his name.

Don't I always? he challenged rather fiercely as he made his decision to pour some of this anger and frustration into music. Quickly, he had Azer in his arms, with music propped up, a battery-powered lantern providing enough light (he hoped) to make sense of those notes dancing across the page. Time passed quickly as he committed the music to memory though he made certain that he also was able to read it, something that would be demanded of him in rehearsal, something to which he had yet to grow accustomed. When he had finished came the treat, and he launched into the medley that had earned him Scarlett Beaumont's support: a combination of melodies that he had learned from Iah's record collection and others he had purchased. They were his favorites, and, for some reason, he felt some deep connection to them, as if he knew them from somewhere else. Perhaps he had heard them in childhood.

Before long, Easy could not resist getting to his feet and dancing to his playing, some steps learned, but much of it improvised. Dance as if no one is looking. He could not remember if he had heard or read that but thought there was more to it, perhaps something about singing, too.

[angelofthenight]

OOC: Hope you don't mind if Garrett joins you BIC:

Garrett Connelly

Garrett had decided after a morning of meetings and before going home and changing and scrounging up somethign to eat that he deserved a few moments to himself with his pencl and scetch pad. He'd rode to the Opera House on his motorcycle wanting to see if any had heard word of Simone since she'd disappeared yet again... he assumed back to England but she'd left him no address to contact her by and so he figured at this point he was just waiting for her... waiting for her to either never contact him... or for her to write or call and let him know what exactly had taken her away so suddenly. He thought about her often. Her captivating green eyes and how they reminded him of the ocean on a stormy night. Her fiery red hair that perfectly reflected her fiesty personality. Her beautiful hands that had even been raised against him in intended him. She was beautiful in every sense of the word and he was just beginning to realize how deeply he cared for her... how much he needed her in his life. Lately it had been all work.. he had to focus on his career.. he didn't have time for a relationship... but now... having been away from Simone for months and fianlly getting his desire to just focus on work and have it satiated he realized that for Simone.. he was willing to make time.

He'd climbed up into a loft that had relatively clean hay compared to all the other stuff that covered the old stables. He was laying on his back... his knees pulled up to his chest and scetchpad resting on them. He was focused on two little turtle doves that swere darting in and out of a nest that they'd made in the corner to raise their young... a smile on his face as the birds darted in and out... as if playing a game of tag or hid and seek. His pictures was of a still of the birds though. One bird was poking its head out side of the hole in the almost beehive-like shaped nest... another was lfying just in front of him but off to the side so the bird in the nest was perfectly visible.... it had been a pose the birds had held for a good few minutes moments ago and so Garrett had rushed to capture it. He found that animals were mucnh more difficult then people to draw considering the fact that animals seemd to lack the ability to simply sit still weather they new they needed to or not. the main focus of the pciture though were the bird's eyes and that was perhaps the hardest thing to capture.... the look of pure devotion between the pair... the way human relationships should be.. complete devotion.. no desire to seek comfort elsewhere... maybe they woudl do well to take a lesson from the birds.

Garrett had been so caught up in his drawing that he hadn't heard anyone enter the stables. He jumped slightly when the soudn of a violin reached his ears and he cursed under his breath when he realized that he'd made a long line across his picture... it was basically ruined... unless he wanted to go over it in water colors.. which he woudl proably end up doing. Ignoring the soudn of the violin and its player for a moment he quickly set to erasing the rather dark pencil line that had gon right through one of the bird's heads. He erased carefully and with percision making sure only to erase the part of the drawing that had been defiled by the blasted blemish. He blew the eraser shavings on and then he looked over his sketchook realizing for the first time that the violin was still playing and that who ever was playing had no intention of leaving.. though Gareet was rather fond of music he didd not appreciate it when he was interrupted by it. He had to admit the player was rather skilled and and he scooted to the edg eof the loft... sticking his scechbook and pnecil back in his satchel.. finishing it later woudln't be a probelm since he already had the ground work for the drawing.. plus his photographic memory would com ein handy with that one.

He peered over the edge and was surprised to the boy that he'd met on the roof some weeks ago. He recalled how uncomfortable he'd been and yet at the same time Garrett could use company... espeically feeling as brooding and lonely as he did. the boy was the player of the violin and as he watched the boy began to dance. Garrett couldn't help but smile at this and then getting up he brushed the front of his suit jacket off... wondering if the boy woudl think him strange for being up in the loft in a suit. He climbed down the ladder... jumping the last few rungs ot the ground he made sure to stay relatively out of sight instead of immediately making his presnece known. He let the boy finish his song and then Garrett stepped out fo the sshadows clapping slowly. "Bravo... I must admit I am quiet impressed... a jack of many trades then..." he speculated.... giving Easy a rather warm smile. "You take pcitures play the violin and dance... unfortunately I'm am not cordinated enough to do either separately let alone together... just don't have the mind for it I suppose..." he explained as he perched himself on the edge of a crate. "I'm actually a very clumsy dancer..." he said with a rather bemused smile... wondering when Easy woudl get over the inital shock of seeing him again.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

If Easy had not finished the set first, he might have sent bow and violin flying when the applause came. Dazed, golden eyes were wide in the pale face as he stared at the man who had arrived so unexpectedly. For some reason, he could not place him at first then realized that it was the beautiful man from the roof, the one he had shamed himself in front of by being far too fawning and perhaps too forward.

"Bravo... I must admit I am quiet impressed... a jack of many trades then." To the man's smile, he managed a rather weak, tremulous one, wondering for a moment what was meant till the man said, "You take pictures, play the violin and dance... unfortunately I'm am not cordinated enough to do either separately let alone together... just don't have the mind for it I suppose." Rather in awe, Easy remained silent, watching the man seat himself on one of several crates that served as everything from tables to storage when he and sometimes Iah spent some time here. Sadly, he had never had that opportunity with Lilith Eytinge. Nearly lost in thought, he almost missed the man's admission, "I'm actually a very clumsy dancer."

"Y-you clumsy?" was all Easy could think to say, recalling how the man had helped him on the roof when he had frozen as his fear of heights had kicked in. "Can't believe that," he assured the man. "Connelly," he remembered. "Garrett Connelly, right? I was taking pictures, and you posed for me. I acted like a~um~real dope, huh?" he admitted, bowing his head and blushing as he recalled how his Alleycat self had shown up, enjoying being held too much, and he had made the man ill at ease, likely believing he was going to be attacked at any moment.

When he thought that he had recovered, he sat down on a box in which he had stored a number of items, thinking it should hold his weight, right leg drawn up, his left stretched out as he went into play position once more, beginning to play very softly and rather randomly, one of those "winging it" type almost-songs he found himself playing occasionally. Then, he paused, hesitating before saying wonderingly, "I'm in the orchestra now." It still seemed unreal to him, no matter how many times he repeated it to himself. Saying it to others didn't seem to help. "Mademoiselle Beaumont~Scarlett... I auditioned for her, and she said I could be in the orchestra~here at Opera Populaire. She says..." He gave his head a shake. "Never mind." Then, his curiosity got the best of him: "Are you gonna do something to the stables? I mean... You said you design and build and were fixing the Louvre." He winced at how clumsy that sounded, but he was always nervous around someone this attractive. The man's eyes were absolutely riveting even by lamplight in the shadows of the stables, and he found it difficult to meet his gaze. "Like the stalls... You gonna fix all this?" In his mind, he could see all of his hard work on the chain of three stalls gone in a moment, knowing that his crawl-through doorways were a giveaway to what he had been doing. Certainly, an architect would notice, or so he feared.

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

Garrett recalled very clearly the last meeting he'd had with Easy Tanner. It had been slightly awkward for him considering the fact that the boy had been so forward and about what he thought about the artist. Garrett had had a long time to think about his reaction towards the boy and he couldn't help but feel that he was in the wrong when it came to that. He'd behaved rather abominably and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it as he watched the youth play his violin with such expertise and Garrett couldn't help but admire him. He did have the ability to play the guitar but needless to say it wasn't very well and nothing near close to what Easy could obviously do on the violin. Garrett watched the boy's fingers move across the frets with fascination evident in his silver eyes. As the boy became lost his playing Garrett climbed slowly down the ladder and stood in the shadows so he wouldn't be seen. He watched the boy dance as he played wondering how on earth he was able to move his feet across the ground and his fingers and bow across the string at the same time.... to Garrett it seemed like quiet a feat and he couldn't help but be admiring of the boy... and he applauded as the song came to an end.

It was obvious that Easy was taken off guard by Garrett's sudden appearance. It was also evident that he was a little startled by person that emerged from the shadows. He admitted to Easy that he was rather impressed that the youth could dance and play the violin at the same time since he wasn't coordinated enough to do either. He told Easy that he was rather clumsy when it came to dancing at the disbelieving look in the boy's eyes made Garrett believed that this meeting would be no different then the last one. "Y-you clumsy?" Easy said, as if he didn't believe it and Garrett inwardly smiled.... would this boy ever be able to see a fault in him... maybe eventually. "Can't believe that," he denied and Garrett only shrugged. Easy would just have to wait and see him at a party or a club trying to dance with the poor woman that was stuck dancing with him. "Connelly," he recalled, obviously trying to remember his name and Garrett nodded... "Garrett Connelly, right? I was taking pictures, and you posed for me. I acted like a~um~real dope, huh?" Garrett shrugged and only smiled, unsure of the boy had wanted him to answer the question or not... truthfully he didn't feel there was a right answer to that question considering the fact that Easy would probably deny if Garrett told him that he hadn't acted like a dope.

Easy seemed to settle down a bit and sit down on a crate that was across from him. Drawing one leg up to his chest he still held his violin and every now and then he would lift his violin to his shoulder and play a couple notes every now and then. "I'm in the orchestra now." he said and the boy said it as if it were some kind of dream he'd had and he was just relaying what had happened in said dream to Garrett... the artist smiled his congratulations... "Mademoiselle Beaumont~Scarlett... I auditioned for her, and she said I could be in the orchestra~here at Opera Populaire. She says..." Garrett was curious as to what the woman had to say but instead of telling him Easy simply shook his head. "Never mind." A silence settled between them and Garrett wondered what was going through the boy's mind. He didn't have to wait long before he knew exactly what it was. "Are you gonna do something to the stables? I mean... You said you design and build and were fixing the Louvre." he said and Garrett smiled... they couldn't pay him enough to fix a place like this up... the work he was doing for the Louvre cost the museum a fortune and Garrett was rather concerned about getting paid in full like he should be. "Like the stalls... You gonna fix all this?" Easy asked and Garrett could almost see the troubled look in the boy's eyes... the artist was sure he was the only person that would be genuinely sorry if the stables were fixed up.

"No I'm not fixing up the stables.. actually I was just... relaxing..." he explained... finding his satchel which he'd set on the side of the crate he pulled out his sketch book and opened to the page of the unfinished drawing of the birds. "When I relax I tend to just draw something I see and so I drew the birds..." he said, pointing to the birds that were still frittering around the nest in a rather comical fashion that made Garrett smile now even as he watched them. "You can look through the rest of them if you want.. some of them aren't that good... mostly just ideas that are yet to be realized..." he explained as Easy turned to a drawing of a woman's hands...her long delicate fingers... her carefully down nails and the flowers that were braided around her wrist in a rather extravagant fashion... she was in a lot of pictures that some woman might think he was in love with the woman... but he'd never really loved a woman... just certain aspects about them. "I loved her hands..." he muttered more to himself but he knew perfectly well that Easy could hear... then he came on a picture of close ups of the same woman's face.. numerous ones... she was one of the few woman he'd ever asked to pose for him... "and I loved her mouth... and the curve of her jaw.."He explained.. he had loved little things about the woman that most people wouldn't even notice... but they had been captured... preserved forever in his drawings.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy realized that he had been holding his breath when he gasped as he heard the man say, "No I'm not fixing up the stables." It seemed so loud in the quiet of the stables, and he hoped that it wasn't as noticeable as he feared. Now for the real reason: "Actually I was just... relaxing," he explained, and the youth watched him reach into a satchel, at which point, he carefully set the violin in the open case, the bow resting nearby, just in time to see Garrett extricate something he immediately recognized: a sketchbook! "When I relax I tend to just draw something I see and so I drew the birds," he said. Easy glanced at the sketch then looked in the direction the man was pointing, seeing the artist's subject, realizing that he had been hearing the noises they made but had paid no mind to them. "You can look through the rest of them if you want," came the invitation, and Easy leaned closer, reaching down to adjust the position of the lantern to cast more light on what he could tell were sketches that showed a lot of skill, much more than he could claim at this time. Perhaps years of working at it might bring him to this point. "Some of them aren't that good... mostly just ideas that are yet to be realized." With surprisingly sharp eyes for details, the youth studied the sketch he was being shown now, hearing the man quietly say, "I loved her hands." That made him want to ask who the woman was, but the way the man had said it made him think that it was a private matter. Then, he was being shown numerous drawings and supposed they were all of her as Garrett said, "And I loved her mouth... and the curve of her jaw."

"She's beautiful," Easy said quietly, knowing he was stating the obvious. "You gonna do a painting of her maybe? I mean... Friends gave me some books about artists and how they do working sketches before they decide what the portrait's gonna look like. Da Vinci," he recalled, reaching for other names. It was simply that the master's sketchbook works had struck him as being so remarkable, beyond anything he could ever achieve yet making him feel that, if he kept working at it, he might amount to something. He had never told anyone about the feeling, certain that they would laugh or obviously try not to at the streetkid who picked up a pencil and thought he could be Da Vinci.

"They're good, aren't they?" He smiled ruefully then added, "I sketch, too, only I haven't been doing it all that long. Even if I had my sketchbook, I prob'ly wouldn't show 'em 'cause~well~they're nothing like what you have. I tried that, though, drawing parts~like mouths 'n' eyes 'n' hands. It's hard not to draw the way you think something looks and make yourself draw how it really looks." He scowled at his difficulty expressing what he wanted to say. "I mean... In this book I have, it shows how most people draw a hand 'cause they think it's this thing with four fingers and a thumb stuck on it. They don't think about how it's put together really. They draw what they think it is." He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "The writer says it in a lot smarter way," he admitted. "Your drawings... They look good to me~no~great~no~perfect." He sighed then, his hand hovering over the sketch, fingers twitching as if aching to touch it. He snatched the tempted member away then nervously wrapped his arms around himself so that he would be certain to behave. "I shade stuff~with my fingers and hands," he admitted. "Is that OK to do? Seems to work, but I didn't know if that's what real artists do. I have some books, but they mainly show what they did, not how they did it. I'll bet you been doin' it a long time, huh?" He tried very hard to resist and thought he had overcome his curiosity but... "She was your girlfriend?" he guessed. "Or you wanted her to be?" As soon as he had asked the questions, he was very sorry. "No! Garrett~Mr. Connelly... You don't have to tell me about her, OK? It's none of my business. I say stuff I shouldn't all the time. I never learn," he admitted, sighing heavily.

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

The woman that Easy was looking at had been a girl that he'd met on the ferry ride over from England to France. She was gorgeous... a wealthy woman that was married to a wealthy baron somewhere in Germany. He had to admit he was taken with her but when she played her harp was when he'd realized that he had to draw her... her hands were what had taken him and held him captive... every chance he got he would talk to her... leave her notes or flowers and tell her to meet him somewhere. He knew that practically everyone on the ship knew who she was that she was married to one of the wealthiest families in Germany though she hated every minute of it. It was the first woman he'd ever genuinely loved. Who he felt like he could do anything for and he found himself stealing moments with her in the corridors... sneaking to her room and staying up with her late into the night. The day the ship docked though she left him a note... saying that it was nice to have met him and that she valued him as a dear friend... if he was ever in Berlin he should look her up... Garrett had torn up the note and burned the remains but the images of hr hands... her mouth... and the curve of her jaw... were captured in his drawings... and his memories forever.

He watched Easy look at the pictures with fascination... it was obvious that the boy found them intriguing and he waited to see how he would react. He had not necessarily had an affair with her... just with her hands.... and her lips.. which he'd never touched... only looked at for his drawings.... and curve of her jaw that was so perfect it looked almost as if it were chiseled from stone. "She's beautiful," Easy muttered softly and Garrett smiled. She was beautiful... but that didn't seem like an adequate adjective... extravagant.. gorgeous... tantalizing seemed much more fitting. "You gonna do a painting of her maybe? I mean... Friends gave me some books about artists and how they do working sketches before they decide what the portrait's gonna look like. Da Vinci," Garrett shook his head. The drawings didn't even do the woman justice... paintings wouldn't do them any better either... the thought of trying to even capture the essence of her hands in a painting was unthinkable and Garrett smiled but shook his head... unlike the artists he spoke of Garrett would never be able to turn any of the drawings of the woman into a painting....

He could tell that Easy had big dreams for himself... Garrett wondered just what those dreams were... "They're good, aren't they?" Easy praised and Garrett shrugged.... one of the hardest things for him was taking compliments... and he looked away... it was easier for him when people criticized his work... but when they complimented it... he proffered to not e around when they did that. "I sketch, too, only I haven't been doing it all that long. Even if I had my sketchbook, I prob'ly wouldn't show 'em 'cause~well~they're nothing like what you have. I tried that, though, drawing parts~like mouths 'n' eyes 'n' hands. It's hard not to draw the way you think something looks and make yourself draw how it really looks." Garrett tilted his head slightly... a habit when he was listening intently to someone. "I mean... In this book I have, it shows how most people draw a hand 'cause they think it's this thing with four fingers and a thumb stuck on it. They don't think about how it's put together really. They draw what they think it is." Garrett scowled at that. He hated those drawing books... for budding artists it was not what they should going off of... they didnt develop their own style from that.. they just learned to draw the way someone else did.. that wasn't the sign of a true artist at all. "The writer says it in a lot smarter way," he admitted and Garrett shrugged not sure he agreed with Easy but he wasn't about argue. "Your drawings... They look good to me~no~great~no~perfect." he praised and Garrett shifted in his seat. To say that his drawings were perfect were a huge exaggeration that Garrett was almost offended by. He shook his head to disagree... nothing he did was perfect... because none of his drawings were ever finished.

"I shade stuff~with my fingers and hands," he admitted and Garrett raised and eyebrow at that. He'd met some artists who did that though he wasn't one of them. "Is that OK to do? Seems to work, but I didn't know if that's what real artists do. I have some books, but they mainly show what they did, not how they did it. I'll bet you been doin' it a long time, huh?" Garrett shrugged.. he got his first sketchbook when he was four.... from hsi mother who was the first to realize the eye for beautiful things that Garrett possessed. "She was your girlfriend?" Easy asked, pulling Garrett from his thoughts and it took him a minute to realize that the boy was referring to the drawing of the woman's hands.... "Or you wanted her to be?" Garrett's mouth twitched at the assumption.. he hadn't wanted anything from the woman... he was just in love with her hands... and the way they looked when they moved across the strings of her harp... so delicate and graceful... "No! Garrett~Mr. Connelly... You don't have to tell me about her, OK? It's none of my business. I say stuff I shouldn't all the time. I never learn," he explained and Garrett smiled reassuringly.. he would never see the woman again... what did he have to lose in telling Easy about her.

"I don't mind Easy really..." he assured the boy with the same warm smile. "I was not necessarily in love with her..." he explained with a shrug as he took his sketchbook back and found another more detailed sketch of her hands as they moved across the strings of her harp. "I was in love with her hands... the sheer beauty of them... they always looked so graceful and fragile... everything about them was perfect..." He said, he spoke reverently as a love might speak of their significant other. "She was married you know... to a wealthy German baron or something like that... I was way below her... but I found myself wanting to be with her... just to look at her hands... she was so beautiful... I didn't realize that I'd loved her until we docked... and she left me a note saying that she'd valued my friendship... and I realized that I'd looked at her as more then a friend... " he paused and shook his head... a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "But you get over things like I guess.. as for weather I'll turn the drawings into paintings... no I won't... the drawings don't even do the beauty of her hands justice... a painting could never capture what I've tried to capture in those sketches..." he told Easy... there was more to art then many people realized... at least there was more to his art.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

As occurred in nearly every conversation, there came a time when Easy felt that he had said far too much, especially asking personal questions. But, Garrett Connelly continued to treat him kindly, saying "I don't mind Easy really. I was not necessarily in love with her." At that, the man took hold of the sketchbook and leafed through to another sketch, this one featuriing an instrument Easy finally decided was a harp. If he had not been told these sketches were of a real woman, he might have thought them a fantasy. Perhaps in some ways she was for Garrett. "I was in love with her hands... the sheer beauty of them... they always looked so graceful and fragile... everything about them was perfect." Easy sat quietly, his gaze moving from the sketch to the man, who seemed lost in his memories. "She was married you know... to a wealthy German baron or something like that... I was way below her... but I found myself wanting to be with her... just to look at her hands... she was so beautiful... I didn't realize that I'd loved her until we docked... and she left me a note saying that she'd valued my friendship... and I realized that I'd looked at her as more then a friend." At that, he paused, smiling, yet Easy was certain of the sadness there, and he understood the sense of loss, especially if that someone was forbidden. "But you get over things like I guess," Garrett stated, but the youth did not hear the ring of truth because the woman still controlled this young man who must have more admirers than he could deal with. Perhaps if he had had an affair with the woman, it would be over and done with by now. Instead, he had built up the memories to such a degree that the pain and longing lingered. "As for whether I'll turn the drawings into paintings... no I won't... the drawings don't even do the beauty of her hands justice... a painting could never capture what I've tried to capture in those sketches."

Easy nodded, thinking that he understood. From the little he had dabbled with painting, he realized that the two procedures~sketching and painting~were extremely different. He wasn't certain how they differed. Perhaps the artist "plugged in" to a different part of the brain. At least, that was his wild guess. When he tried painting, he had felt almost detached than when guiding a pencil, trying to capture an image. The pencil seemed like an extension of him, but with a brush, he had to think of mixing colors and what looked best where.

"Sooooo, you never met anyone to make you forget her? I mean... You're not over her, Mr. Connelly~Garrett. I know what it feels like sort of~prob'ly nothing like with you and her. But, there must've been other women? Y-you're so..." He looked away, blushing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. Guess maybe people think I'm shallow 'cause I talk about how people look, but it does matter to people. Some of us react to pretty and beautiful more than others maybe. Why is it so wrong to tell someone...?" He stopped the rest, giving his head a shake. "Guess I better let you get back to relaxing, huh? Thanks for talking to me again~and for liking my music. Scarlett says she's going to have me sing for her to see if I should be on stage," he admitted, his velvety voice barely audible, as if to say it more loudly would jinx it, but did he really want that? "Don't know if I even want to be there. She knows I can dance 'cause~well~I sometimes start dancing when I'm playing that music. Not the classical," he realized. "I hardly ever want to dance or move around with that stuff." He shrugged. "Weird, huh?"

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

He could recall perfectly the day he'd met Aalina van Waldburg. She'd been standing on the deck with a large crowd of people... waving goodbye to loved ones he was sure. Her gloved hand held a white handkerchief which every so often she would hold to her eye to wipe away false tears that she was pretending to shed for the sake of her loved ones... or not so loved ones as Garrett would later. He could plainly see the ring on her hand but that did not stop him from approaching her after the ferry had left the harbor with a tea in hand... offering it to her he accepted the invitation to sit with her and that was when he noticed her hands for the first time. Her gorgeous fingers that rested gently on the table no longer adorned in white gloves but sitting there in all their glory for the world to behold. Without even thinking he reached forward and took her hand. Bringing it to his lips he'd placed a ghost of a kiss across her knuckles as he whispered softly. "You have the most beautiful hands I have ever seen..." and then she'd smiled at him... and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her the rest of the week long trip... he'd even caught her in the corridors and sun bathing on deck a couple of times... each time he'd taken advantage of the moment and sat and talked with her.... only when he bade her goodbye when they docked in France did he realize how much he would miss her... how he would wonder for the rest of his life what could have been.

He could never turn any of his sketches of Aalina into paintings because they would do her even less justice then the sketches... he'd done plenty of paintings of her from his memories but he doubted they came close to the real woman that he remembered. "Sooooo, you never met anyone to make you forget her? I mean... You're not over her, Mr. Connelly~Garrett. I know what it feels like sort of~prob'ly nothing like with you and her. But, there must've been other women? Y-you're so..." the boy stopped and Garrett looked up at him. He'd met and talked with plenty of women... but none seemed to replace the memories of her.. even his feelings for Simone could not rid him of that. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. Guess maybe people think I'm shallow 'cause I talk about how people look, but it does matter to people. Some of us react to pretty and beautiful more than others maybe. Why is it so wrong to tell someone...?" He stopped again shaking his head and Garrett knew what he was going to say without him finishing it... it wasn't wrong... but sometimes it just wasn't right to say things like that. "Guess I better let you get back to relaxing, huh? Thanks for talking to me again~and for liking my music. Scarlett says she's going to have me sing for her to see if I should be on stage," he said and Garrett smiled... the boy truly was a jack of many trades... he sang, danced, played violin and took pictures... very interesting. "Don't know if I even want to be there. She knows I can dance 'cause~well~I sometimes start dancing when I'm playing that music. Not the classical," he explained... and Garrett nodded... classical was supposed to be soothing... not something that made you want to dance. "I hardly ever want to dance or move around with that stuff." He shrugged and Garrett shrugged with him... it really didn't effect Garrett in any way but he found himself interested nonetheless. "Weird, huh?" he asked and Garrett smiled but shook his head... he really didn't think it was weird at all.

"When I was a kid my mom used to tease me by telling me that all my coordination had gone into holding a pencil which was why I couldn't dance at all... I feel sorry for the girls I took to dances... " he said with a rather bemused look on his face. "I'm sure more then one girl walked away with broken toes... I think some of them were to nice to ask me to carry them..." he said with a shrug then he tilted his head slightly. "I think I've met Miss Beaumont once or twice... well not directly... I've had to talk to patrons about doing stuff in the foyer and what not and she happened to be there... I dont' think I've ever spoken to her though..." he said with a shrug... he was glad that Easy had gotten what he wanted in regards to the stage then he entertained an idea. "Can I see your violin?" he asked and when the boy finally handed it over he took it. Turning it over in his hand he looked at the wood and smiled. "My dad used to tell me that the true potential of a player is in their instrument... and what makes the instrument good is the wood that it's made from... at least that's what he said when he was talking about wood instruments.." he explained, handing the rather nice instrument back to him. "So Easy how has your photography been going... get any of those pictures developed?" he asked in a friendly tone... genuinely curious how they'd turned out.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy hadn't expected the man to bother with most of his babbling, as he never knew if he was making sense. Sometimes he couldn't follow what he was saying.

"When I was a kid my mom used to tease me by telling me that all my coordination had gone into holding a pencil which was why I couldn't dance at all... I feel sorry for the girls I took to dances." In response to the man's smile, Easy felt his own lips attempt one though it was tremulous. "I'm sure more then one girl walked away with broken toes... I think some of them were to nice to ask me to carry them." Easy allowed one sound of amusement to escape, because he was uncertain if the man would like him to laugh now since he himself was hurt when people laughed at him, even if he had joked about his shortcomings~everything from his difficulty with words to his occasional clumsiness, which mainly was from being so nervous.

"I think I've met Miss Beaumont once or twice." At the mention of the woman's name, Easy tensed, trying to listen especially carefully because he knew so little about the woman who had chosen to sponsor him when he had thought such a thing impossible. "Well not directly," Garrett continued, and the youth's body slumped just a little, supposing he wasn't going to hear any interesting tidbits after all. "I've had to talk to patrons about doing stuff in the foyer and what not and she happened to be there... I dont' think I've ever spoken to her though." Easy had to smile at the shrug, as he was a world champion at that gesture that came in handy in so many situations.

The man changed the subject dramatically by asking, "Can I see your violin?" Easy had to admit to himself that he experienced a moment of hesitation and understood how strong an attachment he had developed with the instrument. It was strange seeing it in someone else's hands. "My dad used to tell me that the true potential of a player is in their instrument... and what makes the instrument good is the wood that it's made from... at least that's what he said when he was talking about wood instruments.."

Blushing because he feared the man would think he was foolish, Easy explained, "His name is Azer" as he cradled the instrument in his arms, head bowed over it. "He's really, really old, like 17th or 18th century or somethin'. I read about it once, but I forgot. I bought one before then~well~I was mad at that teacher and took it back. Mr. Mehmet told me to use one from Sanctuary~that's the house I live in. The wood... It's tiger maple I think. I really should know these things I bet. Anyway, it's worth more than I'll ever be," he admitted readily.

"So Easy how has your photography been going? Get any of those pictures developed?" For some reason, the question surprised him, making him feel as if the man had paid more attention to him than he thought. Either that or he had an exceptional memory and remembered everyone he met.

"Yeah, I got a coupla hundred I bet. The lady who helped me get started, she sorted some of my first ones, showing me what I did right and what wasn't so good. I sort of figured some of them might be someplace too dark or way too bright. I have a lot of pictures of half a cat." He giggled at the statement. "I don't think Phantom likes the flashes. He usually hides in the cellar, so I have some interesting pictures there, even if he didn't stick around. I like taking pictures of people, but I always worry that they'll get mad at me for doin' it. Like, 'What d'you think you're doin', kid?!'" he snarled, mimicking an irate subject. "Maybe not," he admitted. "But, I do like people better than things, kind of the opposite to what I do with sketching. I'm afraid to draw people 'cause they might get insulted if I don't do a good likeness. If I had any with me, I'd show 'em to you because~well~I don't have much of anybody to show stuff to. Lily went away." His throat tightened at the memory. "And~and Iah's not around much. Guess I must be lonely?" He was uncertain of the sensation as he had been on his own through much of his life. The company he had kept had had nothing to do with friendship or even true companionship. He had been an object to be used and discarded. "Guess I'm a wimp, huh, moanin' and groanin' 'bout havin' nobody around. I threw this party, a housewarming for Sanctuary, but hardly anybody came, and nobody wanted to stay." He blinked rapidly as his eyes burned at the threat of tears. "Bet you have lots of friends, huh? You're rich and famous and talented and~and beautiful." The last was murmured so softly that he doubted the man caught it~though it shouldn't surprise him. "Thanks for talking to me again," he stated quietly, peering up at the man through sheltering lashes. "Thanks for sharing~the pictures and your story. You know, you could write the story and use the sketches for illustrations, and I bet people would like it a lot. Prob'ly make a lot of people cry, 'specially women. Ever thought of that? Or, maybe it's not somethin' you'd want to share. Then..." He paused to think that over before continuing. Looking up, eyes narrowed in curiosity, he asked, "Why did you tell me about her?"

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

Garrett by nature was a dreamer. He thought and imagined things that could never happened. He looked at people and the world in ways that no one would probably ever look at them. He saw people not as they were but as they could be. A man sitting on a bench with an empty bottle in his hand was not just some drunk who was spending all his hard earned money on alcohol but a man who had lost his family in some tragic accident... who was tryign to forgot those horrid memories by losing himself in a bottle every now and then. The young teenaged woman standing at the corner... holding a stroller with her foot while talking antimadely to the person on the other end of the line was not some irresponsible little girl who had gotten pregnant out of stupidity.. but a girl that was completely alone in the world.. she was a child raising a child and now she was simply trying to find her way in this world..the phone conversation she was having was with a secretary abotu a job interview she woudl be late for because she had to take her baby to a doctor appointment.. not some friend she planning to meet up with and go clubbing with later... Garrett was slow to judge.. he looked at every aspec tof the situation... it was what had made him fall in love with Aalina... what had made him embrace his feelings for Simone.. it was what made him so patient with Easy now.

Trying to get Easy to think about other things besides Garrett's long lost love that was lost but not forgotten he asked ot see the boy's violin and have a look at it. His father had worked with all kinds of wood... though Garrett didn't have the eye that his father had he had gotten his artistic ability form him to some extent. He told the youth about what his father had said about how the wood of the instrument affected the player and especially the instruments tone quality Garrett wasn't an expert on wood but the violin looked well crafted.. though slightly worn... as if it were rather old. Easy seemed suddenly embaressed about something.. a blush overtaking his features as Garrett handed the violin bsack to him after finishing his explanation of why he'd wanted to see his violin in the first place. "His name is Azer" he explained and Garrett smiled. He'd heard of string players that named their instruments.. they were very protective of them too.. he always foudn it rather interesting... wondering if what they named their instrument said anything about who they were as a person. "He's really, really old, like 17th or 18th century or somethin'. I read about it once, but I forgot. I bought one before then~well~I was mad at that teacher and took it back. Mr. Mehmet told me to use one from Sanctuary~that's the house I live in. The wood... It's tiger maple I think. I really should know these things I bet. Anyway, it's worth more than I'll ever be," Easy said and Garrett found it rather troubling that the boy beleieved a nicely crafted piece of wood was worth mroe then him... perhaps he suffered from depression... Garrett quickly shook the thought off and in an attempt to lighten the mood the artist kindly asked about how his photos had turne dout.. and how his photography in general was coming along.

The boy seemed kind of surprised by his question and Garrett waited patinetly for him to come around and answer it... finally teh silence between them was brokne by the youth's voice once more. "Yeah, I got a coupla hundred I bet. The lady who helped me get started, she sorted some of my first ones, showing me what I did right and what wasn't so good. I sort of figured some of them might be someplace too dark or way too bright. I have a lot of pictures of half a cat." He said giggling and GArrett didn't smile... he never smiled at things like that unless he understood what there was to laugh at. "I don't think Phantom likes the flashes. He usually hides in the cellar, so I have some interesting pictures there, even if he didn't stick around. I like taking pictures of people, but I always worry that they'll get mad at me for doin' it. Like, 'What d'you think you're doin', kid?!'" he micmicked a subject that he'd obviously met with before and Garrett nodded.. though he was a little smarter about who he drew he did get caught on occassion... the artist also mulled over what the boy had said about a phantom.. he'd heard the legend of the phantom.. how he haunted the Opera House and was still around.. though he wasn't the one to believe in ghosts.. the story still intrigued him. "Maybe not," he admitted when he thoguht more about someone getting mad at him for taking pictures.. he quickly went on before Garrett coudl comment on that. "But, I do like people better than things, kind of the opposite to what I do with sketching. I'm afraid to draw people 'cause they might get insulted if I don't do a good likeness. If I had any with me, I'd show 'em to you because~well~I don't have much of anybody to show stuff to. Lily went away. And~and Iah's not around much. Guess I must be lonely?" he said more as a question and Garrett nodded.. he knew what it felt like to be alone... to have no one and wonder what you were oging to do if you were alone the rest of your life... they were more alike then Easy woudl ever understnad and more then Garrett coudl ever explain to him.

"Guess I'm a wimp, huh, moanin' and groanin' 'bout havin' nobody around. I threw this party, a housewarming for Sanctuary, but hardly anybody came, and nobody wanted to stay." He was obviously upset by how the party had turned out and Garrett wondered if he'd gotten an invitation or even word that there had been a party.. unable to recall it he assuemd he must not have heard about it which rather surprised him sine he was developing quiet a few connections to the Opera House. "Bet you have lots of friends, huh? You're rich and famous and talented and~and beautiful." Garrett practically wante dot laugh at Easy's words. Trying to imagine himself witha lot of friends was like trying to imagine a cat jumping in the water after a tennis ball.. it wasn't impossble.. but it was very improbable. "Thanks for talking to me again," he said finally looking up at the man since he'd started his long monologue. "Thanks for sharing~the pictures and your story. You know, you could write the story and use the sketches for illustrations, and I bet people would like it a lot. Prob'ly make a lot of people cry, 'specially women. Ever thought of that? Or, maybe it's not somethin' you'd want to share. Then..." He stopped talkign and Garrett shook his head.. he may know a lot but this kid was still very naive about the world. Things like what ahd happendw ith him and Aalina were not entertaining any more.. if anything they put people to sleep.

"Why did you tell me about her?" the boy's question took him slightly off guard and he had to think about it for a moment before he answered... sliding down off the crate so he was sitting on the ground h brough this legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. "I'm tired of thinking that she's some kind of dream..." he explained as he closed his sketchbook so he didn't have to look at those haunting eyes any more for hte moment. "sometimes I'm afraid that I've forgotten her.... that I won't remember who she is... I don't want to forget her... even though I have here.. in my book... I want to be able to remember what she was wearing.. what it was like when I first saw her... standing against the railing.. pretending to cry over loved ones that she secretly despised..." he paused and shook his head, not sure if this made any sense to the lad and really not caring.. as lon gas he was listening it was enough. "When I talk about her its like I'm meeting her all over again... I remember exaclty what she looked like.. how her hair was done.. what she was wearing... the way her wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight... and for just a second I'm back with her.. it's just.. a kind of torture I guess... I ought to write it down then I coudl just go back and read it and not have to tell anyone..." he said witha shrug and a weak smile.. wondering if the boy thought he was completely crazy and insane... if he hadn't already.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Easy asked the man why he had told him the story, he truly had doubts that he would be answered except evasively. His breathing caught as Garrett slipped from the crate to seat himself on the ground, drawing his legs up in a movement so familiar to the youth, for he had taken nearly that same position many times. He was happy that the man had not bowed his head, because he certainly liked looking at Garrett Connelly. He wished that he could sit beside him, but he feared that the man would misunderstand. Or, perhaps he would understand all too well why Easy would want to be near him.

"I'm tired of thinking that she's some kind of dream," the man said as he closed the sketchbook. "Sometimes I'm afraid that I've forgotten her.... that I won't remember who she is... I don't want to forget her... even though I have here.. in my book... I want to be able to remember what she was wearing.. what it was like when I first saw her... standing against the railing.. pretending to cry over loved ones that she secretly despised." Easy watched every movement, the changing expressions, and he listened carefully, realizing that the man needed to tell someone, just as he longed to have someone to speak of his heartaches, whether his loss of Jules Roland or his confusing feelings toward Lazare Moreau. "When I talk about her it's like I'm meeting her all over again... I remember exaclty what she looked like.. how her hair was done.. what she was wearing... the way her wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight... and for just a second I'm back with her.. it's just.. a kind of torture I guess... I ought to write it down then I could just go back and read it and not have to tell anyone." The man smiled at that, summoning an uncertain smile to Easy's lips in response.

Easy was quiet for a moment, wondering what he should or should not say since he had a tendency to "run off at the mouth". At last, he said, "I keep a journal~every day. A lady gave me the first one and told me I should write down stuff I thought about~bad and good. She said that maybe if I wrote about stuff that happened to me, it wouldn't bother me so much. I write about the people I meet and how I feel about them. There's someone... I write about this person a lot. I~I understand about you and the lady, that she's someone you couldn't really have. I got somebody in my life like that, someone I have to be with for my music. I can't ever say how I feel though, and~um~this person prob'ly never even thinks about me. It hurts so bad, and I should find another~another teacher." He bowed his head, face burning, knowing that Garrett was likely to guess that he was talking about a man, especially after the way he acted on the roof. "I know what it's like to remember every moment. But, it wasn't~um~unrequited for you, was it, like it is for me? I'm just lesson money," he admitted mournfully. "But, it helps, Garrett, to write it down. It doesn't make it go away, and the hurt will stay, but writing it... Make a story out of it. That's what Lydia told me I should do with the stuff that happened to me, things I had to do. She read what I wrote about Lily and said it would be a good book. Maybe that's why lots of people write books based on things that happened to them~not just to sell a book but because they wanted to share the story with people~like you just did, telling it to me. I know I don't say things good~right~in a good way. When other people say it, they make it sound smarter I guess. I~I'm sorry, Garrett~about that lady."

Then, taking a deep breath, he moved off his own seat to sit next to the man. After a moment, he patted the man's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"If you ever want to talk, you can talk to me~if you want." He felt strange making the offer, realizing that this man likely had plenty of friends for companionship, people his own age and intellect. What did he want with a stupid not-so-former streetkid? "When I first saw you here and knew 'bout you bein' what you are, I thought maybe you were goin' to change the stables. I~I've been fixin' up some of the stalls," he admitted. "I put down brick floors in each of them then straw on top some places. I fixed a little cooking stove, and I made doors between." He pointed across at the opening that would allow someone to at least crawl through but likely would keep out anyone much bigger than the youth or the other who shared time here: Iah Raksha. "I fixed the doors, too, but they're still kind of rickety. I never done anything like this before. Prob'ly looks real messy to you, huh? You prob'ly look at it and see how it should be done. Never held a hammer till I started workin' on the stalls. They're sort of like a lair." He very rarely spoke about such things to anyone, needing places to hole up even if he lived in a house and was relatively safe. "You know~a place to hide out. I got others, too, like when I was on the streets." He gasped at the slip, angry at himself for losing track of what he was speaking about. "I mean... I..." Then, growling at himself through gritted teeth, he snapped, "Shut up, Cat!"

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

For some reason Easy reminded him of a very young boy he'd talked to at an art show in London. His mother had come with a new beau and the boy was anything but excited about the prospect of his mother dating again. While looking for another stand to hold one of his pieces after an elderly man knocked one over with his cane and broke it Garrett had spied the small boy, huddled in the corner, playing with two magnets that he said he'd found at the bottom of his toy box at home. Garrett... wondering if perhaps the boy was lost... asked him what hew as doin gand he replied that he was running awy from his mother. The artist, now genuinely curious, set down the stand and knelt in front of the child.. asking why on earth he would want to run awayf rom his mother. He replied that he hated it when his mother tried to replace his father.. who had died two year previous... by bringing guys taht she met at her job as a librarian home. Garrett momentarily wondered what kind of woman would date men she met at a library but never one to judge he smiply started talking to the boy about how he needed tot alk to his mothera bout that stuff. Somehow he started talking to the lad.. who he later learned was named Henry.. about how his parents weren't very supportive of his work and Garrett ended up guiding him around the museum, showing him darwings and telling him stories that had inspired the pictures in the first place.... the boy's mother found them shortly there after and while Garrettt was standing there little Henry told his mother everything.. two weeks later Garrett had taken her on three dates and the tabloids had proclaimed them an item.. some even speculated that little Henry was Garrets.. though the woman was significently older then him and her son looked nothing like him... he enjoyed her company and the smile it brought to Henbry even more.

the on characteristic that Easy and Henry shared was the fact that they both seemd so open to listening to people and not judging them on wha tthye haerd. The innocence he saw in Easy's eyes matched that of the young boy he'd talked to so many years ago.. and it was that look that mad eGarrett want to tell the youth things.. and explain why he'd told him about Aaliana.. when he'd finished his explanation the boy looked understnading yet at the same time puzled and Garrett wonded what was going through his mind. "I keep a journal~every day. A lady gave me the first one and told me I should write down stuff I thought about~bad and good. She said that maybe if I wrote about stuff that happened to me, it wouldn't bother me so much. I write about the people I meet and how I feel about them. There's someone... I write about this person a lot. I~I understand about you and the lady, that she's someone you couldn't really have. I got somebody in my life like that, someone I have to be with for my music. I can't ever say how I feel though, and~um~this person prob'ly never even thinks about me. It hurts so bad, and I should find another~another teacher." Easy told him and Garrett felt slightly guilty when the boy looked down at the gorund instead of meeting the artist's understanding silver eyes. He knew for a fact that the love Easy referred to was for a man.. and though it bothered him Garrett did his best not to show it... a warm smile still palstered to his face. "I know what it's like to remember every moment. But, it wasn't~um~unrequited for you, was it, like it is for me? I'm just lesson money," Garrett looked at Easy for a moment... he knew there were didn't kinds of love.. and different extremes.. yes his love for Aaliana had been bridled because fo the circumstances under which they had met.. but that didn't mean that he love he'd felt for her wasn't irrevocable and unchanging.. or else he woudl hav elet it go by now. "But, it helps, Garrett, to write it down. It doesn't make it go away, and the hurt will stay, but writing it... Make a story out of it. That's what Lydia told me I should do with the stuff that happened to me, things I had to do. She read what I wrote about Lily and said it would be a good book. Maybe that's why lots of people write books based on things that happened to them~not just to sell a book but because they wanted to share the story with people~like you just did, telling it to me. I know I don't say things good~right~in a good way. When other people say it, they make it sound smarter I guess. I~I'm sorry, Garrett~about that lady." Easy said and Garrett nodded. He'd never thought about keep a jouranl.. in fact it had never really crossed his mind.. he wasn't much of a writer.. only a painter and a sketcher... all his creativity went into each drawsing his did.. there was nothing left for writing or learning to play an instrument... even though the sound of a journal seemed helpful he knew he woudl never do it.. he wasn't comitted enough to write in it every night like he would feel like he had to.. he just wan't the type.

At that moment Easy moved from hsi seat to sit next to Garrett on the floor.. and the artist.. unused to any kind of physical contact... stiffened at the boys touch... not because it made him uncomfortable... but because it was so foreign to him.. someone touching him.. it had been so long since anyone had touched him at all.. and the pat on his shoulder from the boy was a comforting gesture that was completely new to the older man. "If you ever want to talk, you can talk to me~if you want." he sai dna dGarrett shrugged... he really wasn't one for socializing.. though he coudl tlak amiabley to someone when he was approached... it was just a matter of who it was and what was being discussed really... other then work though.. he hardly knew anyone. "When I first saw you here and knew 'bout you bein' what you are, I thought maybe you were goin' to change the stables. I~I've been fixin' up some of the stalls," he admitted and Garrett raised and eyebrow.. geninely interested in one the boy had done even if it wasn't anything like the extravagent things Garrett did in his line of work. "I put down brick floors in each of them then straw on top some places. I fixed a little cooking stove, and I made doors between." the boy pointe dto a small opening in the stalls across from them.. Garrett srongly doubted he could fit through there even if he had a wish to.. and at the moment.. in his suit jacket and tails which were soiled in hay he didn't fell up to crawling anywhere. "I fixed the doors, too, but they're still kind of rickety. I never done anything like this before. Prob'ly looks real messy to you, huh? You prob'ly look at it and see how it should be done. Never held a hammer till I started workin' on the stalls. They're sort of like a lair." He said and Garrett shrugged.. he wasn't one to judge the work of people whohad not been trained to do what eh did.. it was just wrong to even think of doing something like that... "You know~a place to hide out. I got others, too, like when I was on the streets." Garrett's curiousity was piqued at that.. the boy was from the streets.. interesting. "I mean... I..." He obviously hadn't meant Garrett to know and suddenly he felt genuinely sorry for the boy in front of him... his artistic weaving various scenarios of what he could have gone through to get to this point in his young life. "Shut up, Cat!" he hissed to himself and Garrett hoped that he coudl put the boy once more at ease by pretending that he hadn't heard one word of what had been said.

Getting up off the ground he brushed off his jacket and pants.. shaking out his tails he appraoched the whole where Easy had pointed and understood what he meant by it still being rickety. "Well what you need is some kind of hinge as opposed to what you've done... I can... you know help you fix it up so it'll last longer.. that is only if you want..." Garrett said as he examined ther est of the 'lair' as the boy had called it and recalled how he'd built fort in his living room as a kid.. infuriating his parents because he woudl steal chairs from the sitting room where his mothe rentertained guests or his father's office where he had meetings for his construction business. Though he was rarely scolded he knew that his parents whispereda bout it.. he could hear them on nights that he chose to slep in his fort wihtout them realzing it. "You've got the idea.. and I can see what you want to do.. you just need the righ tools.. and someone who knows what they're doing.. I actually have some free time in the next week to help you.. if you want it.. I could come down here with some tools and you cant ell me what you want and I can help you.." he said, hoping that his suggestion put the boy more at ease and that he wasn't sitll worried that Garrett thought different of him because he was from the streets.. he knew what it was like to be at the bottom of your rope and not have anywhere else to go.. it had been what had brought him to Paris in the first place.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Garrett flinched at his touch, Easy did not take it as a rebuff. It could be that the man did not tolerate physical contact or had a past of being harmed. He wanted to stroke the man's hair, soothing him, but he feared that his touch would be loathsome. The man already knew that he liked males, but he should remember that the youth had told him that he had been with women, too. Perhaps that did not matter to Garrett Connelly, as it seemed not to matter to others he had encountered. Easy had guilty memories of passes made and kisses stolen. He simply could not do such things anymore, not even if he dreamed they would be responded to.

Not gonna happen, Cat! Only in your dreams!

Easy had spoken of his work on the stalls mainly to fill the silence with a safer topic. Then, he had made his slip, referring to the streets that had been his home for much of his life. A wave of sadness swept over him as the man stood up, brushing off his clothing, obviously ready to leave the stables~especially Easy Tanner~behind. Thus, he was quite startled by what the man had to say.

"Well what you need is some kind of hinge as opposed to what you've done... I can... you know help you fix it up so it'll last longer.. that is only if you want," Numb with shock, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Easy nodded several times. Then, he, too, got to his feet to go to the man's side.

"Hinge," Easy repeated, "some kind of hinge. Yeah. Yeah." He nodded again, ready as always to learn something new, wondering if such things were simple to others or if this was the special territory of builders and creators. He could not have guessed that the man shared his need to find a safe place, some hideaway.

"You've got the idea.. and I can see what you want to do," Garrett commended, bringing a smile of gratitude to the youth's lips. "You just need the right tools and someone who knows what they're doing." Who that would be, Easy was uncertain, for he could not think of anyone except perhaps Xavier Peace, who was busy with his family. "I actually have some free time in the next week to help you.. if you want it." Easy could not stop the gasp of surprise that came with hearing the offer. This very important man was offering to spend time with him on what might seem a nothing project! "I could come down here with some tools and you can tell me what you want and I can help you."

Easy was so overwhelmed with the man's offer to help that he could not find the words to say, and his throat was so constricted that, had he thought of anything, he could not have spoken anyway. His head bowed, his hands covered his face for a moment as he attempted to center himself and not fall apart, shaming himself once more. Then, slender fingers swept through the raven hair, down to the nape of his neck, where they interlocked, as if that could stave off yet another emotional outburst, and he studied the tall man, wanting to trust him and thinking perhaps the man just might need him for some reason, if only to listen to him as he had.

"I..." Easy paused, managing to take a deep breath before trying again. "I... Yes. Yes, Mr. Connelly." Relaxing, he dropped his arms to his side, shoving nervous hands in his front pockets as he stepped closer to where the man seemed to be studying the task at hand. "I was afraid to cut the doors much bigger 'cause I thought it might fall apart or somethin'," he tried to explain. "I wasn't sure if I could cut all the way through 'cause..." He shrugged and grinned crookedly. "I thought maybe the place'd cave in. I sort of fixed up three stalls so far," he said, trying to recall if he was repeating himself. "Iah~my friend~and me~um~I thought that maybe we could put his tent over the top of them. When I..." To tell about the tent was to tell about how he had come to stay in Paris, and it seemed too much to say to someone who might not care. Head down once more, chin tucked to chest, he muttered, "Never mind. It's just... We sort of camped here once, and I wanted to make it even nicer. I miss the tent," he said softly, his voice taking on a dreamy tone as he thought back to those early days that he had come to idealize. Things could seem to only get better then, and he had just met Iah, Lilith and others. It was convenient to forget all of the anxiety he had experienced back then, something that remained with him to varying degrees: uncertainty, dread, guilt and a host of fears.

OOC: Fade to following scene... BIC:

[angelofthenight]

OOC: New scene between Easy and Garrett. BIC:

Garrett Connelly

Garrett wasn't sure why he'd done it. He wasn't sure he'd even been thinking clearly as he'd sat bent over his desk all night drawing and redrawing the plans he'd come up with Easy's fort in the stables. He must have done scale model after scale model. There were days when he just couldn't sleep and the previous night had just happened to be one of those nights. He was grateful for the fact that he didn't have a woman living with him or he was certain he would have drove her crazy. By the early morning hours he'd gotten a head ache from the light... his eyes were blood shot and stubble covered his jaw. When he went to shower he looked at himself for a long moment in the mirror... staring at the man in front of him. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to do it.. stay up all night to work on something that he wasn't getting paid to do. Perhaps it was his need to stay busy after the discussion he'd had with Easy the morning before. He'd rekindled old flames and reminisced over memories that hadn't been turned over for a good while.. things that he'd much rather not think about... he knew that if he slept he would dream about the woman he'd loved but never even laid a finger on... he could only imagine what it would have been like to hold her.. and that was the main reason he hadn't slept.

His lack of sleep had brought to the Opera House at about five in the morning. The chilly Paris air merited his dark brown leather jacket for a little warm over the gray sweater and blue jeans that were already dirty and ripped and he really didn't care if he got them more ripped. He'd never really been the one to actually build the structure he'd designed. Normally he had a team to do that and he simply stood off to the side and supervised... making sure they got everything right down to the very last detail. He carried his satchel... something he never went anywhere without... into the stables after removing his helmet and hanging it on the handle bar of his bike. He pocketed the keys... doubting anyone would try to hot wire the thing and then headed for where he was supposed to meet Easy in a couple of hours. Heaving the heavy wooden door open he founds things to be almost eerily quiet... and he ran a hand along his stubble covered chin... thinking that he should have shaved but hadn't felt like it when he'd gotten out of the shower. He set down his satchel by the fort and then slid down against the wall... looking at the draft he'd pulled out of his pocket and unfolded he started calculating what needed to be done.

It was then that a wave of exhaustion over took him. He checked the silver Rolex on his wrist and realized he had roughly three hours to wait before Easy showed up and the real work began. He looked towards the door... if any came through it he was sure to hear and so with that he settled back against the wall. Folding his arms behind his head as a pillow he felt every muscle in his body relax. He was sure this was how a slinky must feel after it had been pulled tight and then released.. completely and totally loose... as if he woudlnt' even be able to walk if he wanted to. His head began to droop and his eyelids felt heavy... he didn't like falling asleep in an unfamliar place but as a wieght seemed to way him down the darkness of oblivion seemed almost inviting. He thought about the time once more. Easy would not be here for another couple of hours.. besides all he needed was a twenty minute power nap... it wasn't like he was going to sleep for hours and then someone was going to show up and catch him sound asleep when he should be already doing things to the fort. With that in mind he felt his eyes finally closed.. and fort he first time in almost forty-eight hours.. he gave himself over to the sweet oblivion that sleep provided.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had decided to get an extra-early start on "his" stalls and felt rather smug about being on-site long before Garrett Connelly would show up. Into his satchel, he had placed his sketchpad, wondering if he would be brave enough to show them to the man and grateful that he had added safer subject matter than certain statues at the Louvre; a packet of photographs, including several good ones of Erik the Phantom, the black cat Lilith Eytinge had talked him into "adopting"; and a container holding breakfast: raisin bagels hacked in half then smooshed together with cheesecake-flavor cream cheese, which he had taken a liking to and hoped that Garrett would like, too. If not, the little creatures in and around the stables would be well-fed later. Instead of a Coke, which he preferred at any meal, he had bottles of water and one of iced coffee, a beverage he had discovered he liked.

Easy had dressed for work: worn jeans, one of his Opera Populaire T-shirts, an old black sik shirt, fading so that it was no longer "dressy", over that and a pair of sneakers that were starting to show some wear. By now, he certainly knew how to dress for work and hoped to surprise Garrett though he could not imagine the man thinking he was fussy about working on the project. After all, he had seen the proof of his earlier work and, to Easy's relief, had not attacked his stumbling attempts at revamping the design for a proper hiding place. Then came a nagging fear that the architect would change all of it so that it was no longer recognizable. He liked the rough-hewn quality of his surroundings and hoped that the man saw value in that, too. After all, it wouldn't do to have it stand out that much from the rest, would it? Then, someone connected to the Opera House might tell him it wasn't allowed. As it was now, people often walked by, never knowing what was going on behind the doors to these particular stalls.

Easy's notion of being first to the site was shattered as he reached his destination, but there was no disappointment in it as he saw the sleeping beauty there. A kittenish smile appeared on his lips as he slowed his movements so that the sound of sneakers on straw was hushed. Seating himself on the opposite side of the stall, legs drawn up as an easel, he soon had his sketchpad balanced and pencil busy, attempting to capture the image of the handsome man who had happened into his life twice. He imagined that Garrett Connelly made more of an impression in his life than he had on the man's. Just as he did with statues, he tried to pretend that he would be the only person to look at the sketch. If he imagined someone looking over his shoulder, he would never have the nerve to set pencil to paper. The knowledge that he could destroy it without showing it or simply turn the page to hide it allowed him a sense of freedom. Easy had to admit that he had improved as the sleeping figure came to life on the previously pristine sheet of paper. It was rather like drawing a statue, thanks to the deep sleep Garrett had fallen into, and Easy felt a strange tenderness toward the man, recalling how he had spoken of his lost love. The first time he had met Garrett Connelly, he had believed him to be a man of the world, fully in charge of everything, handsome, likely wealthy, a perfect man leading a life of perfection. That illusion had been destroyed with his second encounter in which he had become a confidante in a way he could never have expected. He was accustomed to telling too much about himself and sometimes receiving information in return. But, the man had not hesitated to open up to him, making Easy hope that his initial responses to the man's beauty had been forgiven or at least excused.

At this hour of the morning, Easy supposed they might not be interrupted for a long time. He intended to let Garrett sleep as long as possible. Though he had no way of knowing what the man had done prior to this, he had an idea that sleeping wasn't part of it. Now, if he could just get the face right...

[angelofthenight]

Garrett Connelly

What Garrett was thinking about as he slept was not a dream. It wasn't some fantasy that his subconcious mind had thought up to pass the hours of sweet oblivion. He was reliving memories.. beautiful memories that he never wanted to let go of. Yet in sleep they were so much clearer. Undilluted by the fog of reality they were clear... as if he were living them all over again. He stood there.. in the harbor... satchel slung ove rhis back and a couple dollars in his worn windbreaker. He stared up at the boat that would take him to France he'd been working hard... selling all the paintings he could to get enough money to get to where he was.. now he was finally on his way to Paris. He headed towards the boarding dock with high spirits and a smile on his face. He had clothes to wear, a pencil and a couple of blank sheets of paper.. it was all he needed. Stepping out on the deck of the ship after inspecting his tiny cabin with room enough for a bed and a small table. He glance around... most of the passengers were waving at people still on the deck.. hanging off the edge of the ship. He scanned the crowd lazily.. then he spotted her... the beauty that would capture his heart and his inspiration.. he walked back to his room in a trance... grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil and spent the next hour drawing her as he'd seen her... so she would be forever captured in his memory.. Aalina...

He found that he was mouthing her name as he slipped back into reliaty. Did he even still have that drawing he'd done.. maybe she'd taken it with her.. she had taken quiet a few when she'd gotten off the ship.. he'd told her too... though part of him wished he still had that particular picture.. it captured her the way he'd felt about her the moment he saw her... splendor and magnificence mixed with awe and silent admiration.... he squinted at the sunilght that was streaming on his face. How long had he been asleep. At first he was rather disoriented.. unsure of where he was or how he'd gotten here. Then he remembered he had a meeting with Easy to help him fix up his fort in the stables. Easy. Had he come seen that he was sleeping and left again? For some reason he was in no hurry depsite the slight concern that the thought evoked in him. He opened his gray eyes and looked up at the high sloped cieling.. he couldn't help but thinking that whoever constructed the place was smart to put that kind of cieling in.. it was much more durable then a flat one.. plus the fumes of the animals would have escaped more easily with a cieling like that.. he rubbed his eyes.. he needed a drink.

He reached for his water and became aware of another presence. He turned his head and saw the boy sitting there... busy sketching something and he pretneded to close his eyes... when the boy looked at him his supscions were confirmed.. Easy was drawing him. Was the light good enough in here? Had Garrett stayed still enough that Easy was able to get the expressiona nd position he wanted. "You know the hardest thing about drawing people when there asleep is you can't tell them to sit still..." he told the boy as he turned his gaze back to the cieling.. the way it had been when he woke up originally. "I hope I haven't been an uncoperative subject..." Garrett said with a smile that didn't show on his lips.. the most annoying thing was when you were trying to draw someone face and they wouldn't hold still... they woudl smile or talk and it would ruin everything... so Garrett fell silent.. shutting his eyes slightly and just relaxing... allowing himself to fully wake up before he and Easy set to work on his fort. It was going to be a long but intersting day... maybe he could give Easy a few tips on sketching as well.. he didn't have a problem helping a learning artist that wanted to learn to be better... he wondered if Easy would want to listen to him.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy was placing the finishing touches on Garrett's handsome face, shadowing it with the delicate touch of his fingers, when a slight movement caught his attention, telling him that the man was beginning to awaken. Feeling suddenly guilty, as if he had somehow taken advantage of the older man, Easy bowed his head, his body tensing, his face beginning to burn as he pictured the man looking across to see someone he barely knew but had offered to help.

Should I have woke him up? he wondered. He glanced up, half-expecting to see the startling eyes staring at him, perhaps accusingly.

Easy gave a little jump as the man spoke: "You know the hardest thing about drawing people when they're asleep is you can't tell them to sit still." The words set the youth at ease so quickly that he had to laugh softly at the truth of what was said. When the man looked upward, Easy followed his gaze, wondering what the man was seeing there that someone like him would never see though he had to admit that he liked the arch of the stables roof instead of the flat surface that so many structures sported. It had that in common with Sanctuary, the Opera House and a number of other places he had visited: a sense of spaciousness and loftiness, he decided, thinking of the haylofts that he someday would explore, perhaps with someone. Maybe he and Iah could check them out someday. Easy was unaware that he had the man's attention again till he heard, "I hope I haven't been an uncoperative subject." He looked up in time to see Garrett smiling, and he could not help but return the smile with one that he hoped communicated his happiness that the man had returned as he had promised. Easy clearly recalled too many promises broken, so when one was kept, it was a wonderful surprise.

"I~um~couldn't help it," the youth began, hoping the right words would come to him. "You were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up 'cause you probably are tired, doin' really important stuff like you do. I thought I'd try to draw~um~sketch you. Don't worry. You didn't move very much. That means you prob'ly were major tired. When I push too hard, I come home and fall in bed. Bam! I'm out!" He winced at how loudly he had spoken and muttered, "Sorry." before continuing. "Mostly, I wake up~like~face down, still dressed. I figure that I didn't do any of that tossing and turning you do when stuff won't let you alone. You... It was a sort of mix, mainly the really tired way of sleeping." Easy bowed his head over the sketch, trying to see it critically and thinking that it might be what people called a flattering portrait, not that one would have to flatter Garrett Connelly too much. The unshaven look had been tricky, but he thought that he had suggested it rather well, blurring the drawing to suggest it, using the tips of fingers that longed for even innocent contact with the reality. "I~um~guess I should show it to you?" He was fearful that he had been too kind in his judgment and that a critique from a true artist would discourage him from trying again.

When he stretched his legs, he winced, finding that his muscles had stiffened from the pose he had taken to capture that other pose. It took some mental arguing with his body to force himself into a standing position, where he did a few stretches to cast off the ache before crossing the stall to sit beside Garrett, presenting him the sketchbook closed.

"Maybe if you see how I started out, you can see that I'm gettin' better, but I have a long way to go. Mostly, I draw statues. I~um~know about bodies, how they're put together, the muscles, how people move, so I try to put that in the sketches." He wasn't trying to excuse himself, at least he didn't think so. He only wished to explain that he was a beginner artist who brought a general knowledge of anatomy to the hobby. "I read in a book about negative space, and it was weird because I thought I was the only person to draw some stuff that way," he said quietly, trying not to fidget as the man leafed through the sketchbook. "Somebody told me I shouldn't read books about how to draw~just do it. I done~um~did it before I read about it, so maybe it's OK?"

[angelofthenight]

OOC: Sorry this took so long. It's not lack of interest. Just distraction because of the masquerade. Hope you understand. BIC:

Garrett Connelly

Part of him wished that he wasn't awake. That he could go back to his dreams and relive those sweet moments with Aalina while he sat with her and watched as she played with her wedding ring, he'd never been sure if that was a deliberate gesture or if it was just some habit she'd somehow obtained over the years. She was young and beautiful and in his opinion she was throwing her life away being married to a man that was old enough to be her father. He wanted to take her and shake her and beg her to get off with him in France instead of taking a train on to Germany back to her home where her husband was waiting for her. But he never did. Instead he drew picture after picture of her. She didn't mind posing for him when he asked and he didn't mind drawing her when she asked. It was a give and take relationship and occasionally he'd gotten the opportunity to touch her when she didn't understand how to hold her hand or tilt her face just right sot he light he was working with caught her features perfectly... those were the moments when he felt truly alive... those were the moments that he swore he would lock away in his memory forever... and so that was exactly what he'd done.

Laying there now he let out a sigh and opened his eyes. Looking over at Easy offered his hope that he hadn't been uncooperative as a subject of his drawing. He'd never attempted to draw someone who was actually sleeping. It seemed like a foolish attempt in his opinion but if the boy decided to do it Garrett wasn't about to put him down for it. He'd drawn people with their eyes close and their features relaxed to make it look like they were asleep but he'd never tried it with someone who truly asleep and could move at any moment. He told Easy that was what made it difficult to draw people and the boy seemed to relax some. Had he thought Garrett would scold him for drawing him. If he saw an opportunity for a good drawing he seized it, he couldn't' scold someone for doing the exact something. That would make him a complete hypocrite and Garrett hated hypocrites, his father had been one and he'd never truly admitted to it yet Garrett knew that he knew. Whenever he knew that becoming an artist was foolish and he would be happier if he gave it up they both knew that his father had given up the chance to be a famous musician to take over his own father's business and he regretted it every day of his life... he wanted to make his son do the same thing but Garrett was more stubborn and had left without looking back.

Garrett pulled himself up into a sitting position. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his head back and forth, loving the way it felt as the muscles seemed to loose themselves from the stiffness of being in one position for so long. He looked over at Easy who was now looking at him and smiled. "I~um~couldn't help it," Easy explained in reference to his drawing and Garrett nodded in understanding... he was an artist heart and soul.. he knew exactly what Easy was talking about. "You were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up 'cause you probably are tired, doin' really important stuff like you do. I thought I'd try to draw~um~sketch you. Don't worry. You didn't move very much. That means you prob'ly were major tired. When I push too hard, I come home and fall in bed. Bam! I'm out!" When the boy winced so did Garrett. He'd spoken rather loudly for how quiet the atmosphere around them was. "Sorry." he apologized and Garret shook his head, there was no apology necessary. "Mostly, I wake up~like~face down, still dressed. I figure that I didn't do any of that tossing and turning you do when stuff won't let you alone. You... It was a sort of mix, mainly the really tired way of sleeping." he explained and Garrett smiled. He'd always been a really heavy sleeper when he did sleep. It was probably because he worked himself to the breaking point and only slept when he absolutely had to... he was one of those people that believe sleep was a waste of time... on average a person slept twenty years of their life away... for someone who could live well into his eighties that was a fourth of your life.. he wasn't going to waste that much time unconscious.

Easy looked back down at his drawing and Garrett stretched a second time. Pulling himself up on to a crate he stretch his legs and moaned almost inaudibly with the sheer pleasure of tension being released. "I~um~guess I should show it to you?" Garrett opened his eyes and looked over at Easy to see that he was looking at the Englishmen intently. Garrett shrugged. An artist's work was a private thing until it hit the gallery, if Easy wanted to keep it to himself Garrett wouldn't be offended by the gesture, though part of him was rather curious about the youth's work. Easy stood up and walked over to where Garrett sat. Sitting next to him he proffered the now closed book and Garrett took it rather graciously, muttering a soft 'thanks' as he took it and looked it over. It was rather worn from use though still in decent shape and Garrett wondered just how often it was used. He opened the book to the back instead of starting at the front... he had Easy's permission to see one drawing, not to look through the entire book and critique the rest of the work. He found the drawing towards the middle oft he book and he gazed at the drawing, analyzing every little detail... both the flaws and perfections that were there... some parts were shadowed to dark... others weren't dark enough... the angle of certain things seemed a little off but at the same time it gave the drawing a uniqueness that Garrett found strangely endearing...

Garrett remembered then Easy was probably waiting breathlessly for his approval. He closed the book and handed it back to Easy. When he opened his mouth to speak however Easy beat him to it. "Maybe if you see how I started out, you can see that I'm gettin' better, but I have a long way to go. Mostly, I draw statues. I~um~know about bodies, how they're put together, the muscles, how people move, so I try to put that in the sketches." He explained and shrugged. Every artist had their tricks... heaven knew Garrett had his... he wasn't going to demean someone for the little tricks that helped them draw... some his tricks were anything but normal. "I read in a book about negative space, and it was weird because I thought I was the only person to draw some stuff that way," he said quietly and Garrett opened the sketchbook to a statue, daring a look at it to see if Easy would stop him... when he didnt' he continued to look with the silent interest of someone who knew that they were looking for in a drawing. "Somebody told me I shouldn't read books about how to draw~just do it. I done~um~did it before I read about it, so maybe it's OK?" Easy asked and Garrett turned the pages for a moment as if he hadn't heard.

He could definitely tell these were the drawings of a beginner... some things about it obviously needed work and Garrett closed the sketchbook for a second time but instead of making a move to hand it back he left it sitting in his lap. "I guess whatever helps you..." Garrett mused for a moment then shrugged and smiled. "I never used books that talked about drawing but then again I'm considered a free lance artist... I like to do things my way and don't care what people say... kind of like Monay you know... we both just kind of do our thing..." he said with a smile... he wasn't exactly comfortable comparing himself to Monay but it was the only example he could think of using to make Easy understand. "But your drawings are good... I can see a difference from you earlier ones to your more recent drawings... you've improved..." he told the boy, trying to restrain himself from saying something condescending... he didn't want to turn the boy off to art completely. He handed him back his sketchbook and then dug in his bag for one of the ones he'd brought along... the book contained only drawings of landscapes.. not his strong point but they were mostly oil paintings and adequate. He handed the sketchbook over to Easy. "Landscapes are kind of my weakness..." he explained... though they weren't horrible... they were not his best.

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: I have to apologize, too, as I owe so many places and cannot seem to get to feeling well enough to catch up. BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy awaited the man's judgment, trusting him implicitly, ready to be criticized because that is what superiors did. He knew that very well by now.

"I guess whatever helps you..." the man began with a shrug and a smile, which Easy puzzled over before offering a timorous smile in response. "I never used books that talked about drawing but then again I'm considered a free lance artist... I like to do things my way and don't care what people say... kind of like Monay you know... we both just kind of do our thing." Easy wondered about the other name mentioned but supposed it was someone Connelly knew. It was best not to air his stupidity anymore than he already had, he supposed. "But your drawings are good," came the promising remark, and the youth became braver about smiling though he remained wary about criticism to come. "I can see a difference from your earlier ones to your more recent drawings... you've improved." Easy had felt this about his work, but it was encouraging to have someone say it, especially someone who had obvious skills. Easy wasn't certain whether he should be relieved or disappointed to have his sketchbook returned to him quickly but reminded himself that time was extremely important for someone like Garrett Connelly. He felt a bit better when the man handed another sketchbook to him, for it made him feel some sort of camaraderie: artist sharing with artist.

"Landscapes are kind of my weakness," the man explained, and the youth had the fleeting thought that the man might be fearing criticism but dismissed it immediately. It was a ridiculous notion that whatever he might have to say would mean anything to a true artist~anything beyond admiration of course.

With amateur eyes, Easy studied each sketch carefully, noting more details than one might give him credit for, perceiving approaches to drawing that he might like to try, whether it be shadowing or mimicking leaves and grass. He was learning how to suggest, how to trick the eye and was open to new ideas. Here he had the opportunity to observe close up, unlike seeing others sketch at the museum, as those he had attempted to spy on had seemed to find his presence irritating. He had to admit that he wouldn't like someone hanging over his shoulder, so he could forgive them their caustic remarks. Occasionally, he paused to point at something he especially liked, deciding that perhaps landscapes weren't so bad.

As he returned the book, he had to admit, "I think I want to stay with people and statues. I don't think I'd ever be very good at gardens and stuff like that." For a moment, he was quiet then had to ask, "Why'd you come back~here~to help? I know you're real important, but you were here real early, like it was important." Bowing his head, feeling suddenly awkward and shy, he searched for words, nervous fingers beginning to tug at his shirt. "I know I made you nervous the first time~on the roof~'cause I acted so~so..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Did you think you had to make up for that?" he wondered. "If that's why, you must be a pretty amazing guy~not that you're not!" he hurried to add, glancing at the handsome man when he wanted to stare at him as if he was one of those exquisite sculptures he was devoted to at the museum. "I mean... You showed up here to help some weird guy fix up stalls that aren't even his for real. That's..." He shook his head slowly, in wonder at the thought that his tiny part of the world had been deemed worthy of so much attention. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice trembling. "Thank you, Mr. Connelly."

OOC: My apologies, as I didn't realize that Garrett was "retired". I suppose I was thinking that you have Calvin, Garrett and Kip. Oh well... Wasted energy seems to be my thing, as many storylines have been abandoned. I'll keep trying! BIC:

[witch]

OCC: For Easy and Cara
Cara Andovea

The stables Cara hadn't been back here in quit awhile and with Mark working it seemed like the right time. For some reason the smell of hay, the thought of horses (though there still where none) calmed her. The stables where quite and if she fell asleep in the straw so be it.

The birds sang outside the open stable doors, a nice cool breeze blowing making her feel once again right at home... maybe one day she's have to talk to the manger about rebuilding the stables and feeling it with horses or at the very lest talk to Mark about owning a horse.

With her ever growing belly that now seemed to lead the way Cara found a quite spot and taking her bag from her shoulder she started pulling out a few things, her sketch book for one and started to finish the drawing that she had started last time she was here.

It seemed like only a few short minutes that her eyes started to grow heavy the thought of sleep over taking her mind. Before long her head started to drop and giving into it she soon feel asleep in the hay, so deeply did she sleep she didn't even hear the footsteps that come half a hour later.

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: I hope it isn't considered godmodding that I state that Garrett helped Easy work on the stalls, as that was what we planned before Garrett was retired. If so, I'll rewrite it to delete references to him. It's just that the post does state that plans were drawn up. BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Some time had passed since Garrett Connelly had helped Easy with his project of turning several stalls into a private getaway. Thanks to the man's help and knowledge, the doors to three stalls were sturdy and solid, easily opened and closed. Passageways between had been enlarged and reinforced, making the youth proud because he had been very close in picturing how it should be done. He had been hesitant about sanding the wood because he liked the roughness and the look of it, deciding instead to smooth only those parts that might cause injuries. He also had decided that painting would set them apart too clearly, and he didn't want to draw too much attention to them.

In hopes of getting away from all that was troubling him, he had donned work clothing: worn jeans with fewer holes than his prowling pair, a tie dye T-shirt of gold/amber/brown hues that was nowhere near as vivid as most of its type, a light denim jacket that he could doff once he was alone, and his ancient but still trustworthy Adidas, veterans of many city streets. He wondered how many miles of meandering he had chalked up while wearing them, having never found another pair nearly as comfortable. Today, he had traveled lightly, carrying only a canvas satchel in which were several bottles of water and an assortment of junky-snack items. Stashed in his closet at Sanctuary were the items that had been regularly with him until not so long ago~camera and sketchbook included. He was uncertain where his strange thoughts were taking him lately, and he needed this time to think about his life and where it might be headed. His guess was some streetcorner on the rough side of the city.

Easy was so lost in thought that he almost missed the sleeping Cara, having to backtrack slightly to be positive it was her, especially due to the drastic change in her figure. He and Cara had spoken about children~what would happen if she and Mark Blaze became parents. Obviously, they were well on their way to being parents, and he was uncertain of his feelings about this. But, his feelings didn't matter, did they? Easy almost continued on to where he wanted to lose himself in work, but he knew that he could not until he discovered if the woman was all right, knowing he wouldn't be worth much if she did need help. Well, he did have his cell phone. He hadn't gotten rid of that~yet. Crouching nearby, the youth hesitated before calling her name, softly at first then again with more strength.

"Cara, are you OK? It's me, Easy~Cat. You OK?" Oh, he hoped so, recalling the time when Lilith Eytinge and Rose Dubois had collapsed here in the stables, leaving him to run around sadly comically, trying to summon help. He didn't feel up to looking stupid and helpless again.

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

So deeply in sleep was she dreams filling her head of happy thoughts ones she hoped to come true and others happy memories she did not hear the gentle whispered word of her name until it become louder.

Eyelids fluttered open a content sigh passing over her lips as she tried to sit up (Not an easy thing to do at the moment.) Blinking half a dozen times she tried to focus on the face that loomed over her.

"Cara, are you OK? It's me, Easy~Cat. You OK?"

"Easy" she said smiling a yawn making her hand cover her face felling a bit a straw on her cheek and brushing it away. "Hi! I'm fine just sleepy, very sleepy seems to happen very quickly no days."

Sitting up a little bit better the realm between asleep and awake slowly slipped away until she was fully awake... well sort of.

"How are you? Haven't seen the Cat in quite some time."

In fact she hadn't seen her friend since she had become pregnant which now made her wonder just what it was he would think about bringing Mark's child into the world.

"We have much to catch up on."

She couldn't help but place her hand on her belly feeling a slight kick showing that the daughter within was now awake herself.

"J.B says hi... And is case your wondering that's the name I'm calling this little one until Mark and I settle on a real one it means jelly bean."

If she wasn't mistaken she thought she noticed Cat's golden eyes looking straight at her belly.

"Five months, like I said it's been a long time."

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

The youth was relieved when Cara's eyes opened and she spoke his name before yawning and seeming to gather her senses, which he could understand. Not everyone woke up "bright-eyed and bushytailed", as Chance used to describe it, much to Easy and Jamil's confusion.

"Hi! I'm fine just sleepy, very sleepy seems to happen very quickly no days." Easy remained where he was as she sat up to continue talking to him. He had to admit that he didn't know about the pregnant nap thing, but then he hadn't been around Lydia all that much during her pregnancy. He recalled that she had been grumpy at times and occasionally weepy, which she had explained as part of the package. "How are you? Haven't seen the Cat in quite some time. We have much to catch up on." Easy considered that quite an understatement but held his tongue. When she suddenly placed her hand on her stomach, his own flipped over, suddenly certain that she was going into labor. But, she only said, "J.B says hi... And in case you're wondering that's the name I'm calling this little one until Mark and I settle on a real one it means jelly bean." He couldn't help but look at her alarmingly distended abdomen then looked away guiltily when she said, "Five months, like I said it's been a long time."

Sighing, Easy sat down beside her. This wasn't what he had planned. He had been cutting his ties with increasing certainty, and he had not thought that Cara and Mark were part of his life any longer because it had seemed forever since he had encountered them. Had he seen them after the handfasting ceremony? He couldn't recall at the moment, but his thinking had been in such a mess so much lately.

"Five, huh? That's~um~four to go, right? Nine months?" He knew that he was babbling stupidly, but he was uncomfortable being around her because he kept remembering how they had talked about the dangers of bringing a child into the relationship when even she wasn't safe from the big man's instability. Easy knew that his father was not nearly as volatile as Blaze, and his mother was nowhere near as gentle as Cara, and he had grown up in a nightmare of a household. No, he did not believe there would be sexual abuse, but there was no guaranteeing that physical abuse wouldn't occur. Both of them had suffered at the hands of the dual-natured Mark Blaze who had convinced Cara of the demon within if not Easy Tanner. What could he say to her?

"Why you call a baby jelly bean?" He had to ask because he could make no sense of it and was a little curious about it.

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

Trying to sit up her eyes slowly focused on the man she hadn't seen since the night of her hand fasting answering his question as they did simply telling him that energy was something that seemed to be so quickly drained now days.

As he finally came into focus and she finally sat up correctly she also told him that there was much they had to catch up on asking him how he was knowing that he saw her growing belly they both seeming to remember the chat they had, had about such matters while also felling a slight kick.

She could see the look on concern on his face but she only smiled telling him that J.B AKA Jelly Bean also said hello.

He sat down next to her, a sigh passing his lips making her raise a brow in question though there where a few other questions she had on mind.

"Five, huh? That's~um~four to go, right? Nine months?"

To this she nodded no doubt he thinking that four months may not be long enough. She could see that he worried now that it was a factor and not just a question he no doubt thinking about the danger the child could be in at it's father's hands.

"Why you call a baby jelly bean?"

A smile and a slight laugh passed over her lips, a twinkle coming to her eyes.

"Because Jelly Bean is better then calling this little one a baby all the time or an it. She has a nickname now making her more real... I know it may sound silly but Jelly Bean seemed to suit, after all they start out around that size."

She bite her lip then her eyes turning fully to meet Easy's.

"I know you're fearful Cat so am I and so is Mark the thing is I asked him if he thought it would be best if we gave the baby away but he refused and in truth it would brake my heart, J.B maybe safer but..."

She stopped there hating even thinking about it.

"Anyway enough about me, you didn't answer my question, how have you been, why haven't we seen you in all this time?"

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When she had told him the name she was referring to the unborn baby as, Easy could not disguise his misgivings, having faced a lifetime of jokes, laughter and cruel remarks about his name. He hoped she meant it as a nickname, yet he didn't know if he thought much of it used that way either. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that he had given nicknames, but at least they were a form of the individuals' names and never given to make fun of or belittle someone. Maybe being nicknamed for candy was~well~sweet.

"Because Jelly Bean is better then calling this little one a baby all the time or an it," Cara explained. "She has a nickname now making her more real. I know it may sound silly but Jelly Bean seemed to suit, after all they start out around that size." That was news to Easy, as he had never thought about the development of a baby, trying to recall anything he had ever heard about it but finding nothing. He had been around Lydia, but for some reason had never paid attention beyond her tummy getting larger between encounters. He noticed her lip-nibbling because it was something he himself did when nervous or uncomfortable, so he expected a shift in mood, which was verified when she said, "I know you're fearful Cat. So am I and so is Mark." So, they were going into that territory again. He remained quiet, listening, which was not difficult to do as he had been silent for the most part in various encounters, avoiding saying anything that would set off conversation. Besides, he and Cara had a history of being argumentative, and this had to be one of the hottest topics. "The thing is I asked him if he thought it would be best if we gave the baby away but he refused and in truth it would break my heart. J.B maybe safer but..."

Easy kept his eyes trained on the opposite wall, but he was listening to every word, every sound from her. He had frowned slightly at the mention of giving the baby away though he could understand why they had considered it. His father had not been nearly as volatile as Mark Blaze; his mother, nowhere as gentle as Cara. He knew that he had lived a nightmare existence from birth till well up in his teens, thus he knew what an unbalanced home life could do to a person. He wished that he could believe that the Blaze household would be far better, but there was no denying the dangers from Mark's dual nature, whether one believed in the demon or not. Both he and Cara had suffered at the man's hands, and he had an idea that he only knew a fraction of what transpired between the unusual couple. His insides twisted as he pictured the big man enraged and wondered how Cara could not see that. But, it was not his place to say anything, was it?

"Anyway enough about me," Cara stated, which he was relieved to hear because he did not want to argue about this. She already knew how he felt about it, didn't she? "You didn't answer my question," she informed him. "How have you been? Why haven't we seen you in all this time?"

His initial response was a rather drastic shrug. "OK," he said, giving his stock answer, always delivered in rather a flat, emotionless manner. "I'm OK," he persisted, but he could not look at her when he said it. "Just tired," he added. "Lessons. Rehearsals. Stuff like that. Guess we just haven't been in the same places." He glanced sideways at her, still uncomfortable about her present state, perhaps because he still recalled the girl he had met what now seemed a very long time ago. In that time, Lilith had left his life and, more recently, Iah. He did not know how long their absence would be but feared the worst. If Devlon Deemer also vanished from his life... He tried not to think about that happening, too, though there was no guarantee that the man would want to see him again. "Went to the Masquerade," he volunteered. "Had a really cool outfit," he recalled wistfully, for he had hoped to escape his troubled state while at the event. He should know by now how these things went for him. He supposed he could forgive himself for being caught so offguard and was thankful that Amelia had been there. She might be younger than he was, but she knew how to take action while he had been his usual helpless self.

OOC: I tried to rewrite my zapped post, but I know I didn't manage to get anywhere near the length and complexity. *sigh* By the way, I watched a movie this afternoon in which the woman had nicknamed her young daughter Jelly Bean! BIC:

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

The topic of the baby was indeed a hot spot for both Cara and Easy each knowing how the other felt about it Easy wondering about the danger much like Cara herself there was also the look on his face as she told him of the babies nickname seeing that he had no idea where it would come from, at lest not until she went into more detail giving him a few facts along the way.

It was only after clearing that little issue up that she voted for a change in the tables getting both their minds off her and onto him coursing her to ask just why it was the Blaze's had not seen their friend asking him if he had been alright.

"OK," he answered half hearted making her raise a brow in question as he refused to look at her which for Mark she had come to learn was either an action of a lie or something he hated talking about.

"I'm OK, Just tired,"

To this Cara nodded knowing the feeling, after all hadn't he found her asleep?

"Lessons. Rehearsals. Stuff like that. Guess we just haven't been in the same places."

A side ways look one in which she returned though if they got into more detail about that she'd be talking about another sore spot... at lest for her. Even now her hand went up her fingertips brushing over the burned heart in her shoulder blade her falling hair reaching down covering the pentagram carved into her back. She was somewhat surprised Easy hadn't seen it when he had found her asleep or at lest heard the rumors going around about the attack.

"Went to the Masquerade," he ventured making her snapped out of her thoughts her hand falling from her back, her gaze turning to look at him. "Had a really cool outfit,"

"Really?" Cara questioned a smile coming to her face. "What did you go as?"

She stopped there biting her lip again, a sigh passing over her lips.

"I've missed talking to you Easy so has Mark you should come by and see us sometime, we've bought a house it's called The House of Secrets maybe you could play for us, catch up."

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy was caught offguard when asked about his costume, as he hadn't supposed she'd be interested. He had a feeling that this was to fill conversational space. "Umm... A fallen angel. I had somebody make it for me~wings and everything. Didn't wear a mask 'cause I guess I felt like that's what I was~not exactly a devil but sure not an angel. I was gonna go as Puss in Boots, and I would've looked really stupid. Then, I saw a picture of this h... this guy in a black outfit. I took it to somebody on Mr. Mehmet's list, and they made me a costume~a really hot costume. I figure that I can wear it without the wings and get by. Made me feel~good," he recalled, "like I could have anybody I wanted and not care~just use 'em and toss 'em. Nobody'd make me hurt anymore, shovin' me aside like I don't matter." His words had taken on a bitter edge, his lips twisting and tightening, golden eyes glaring as if at those who had used him and cast him aside or, worse still, not even bothered to touch him. That's what he could be~beyond what Alleycat had been on his toughest day. Rozaliya Donkova had told him what he should do when they were at that party: Take what you want~whoever you want. She did it, even when he had toyed with her that time at La Valhalla. That hadn't seemed to bother her one bit. He wanted to be like that~a user, someone who toyed with others, uncaring of the aftermath. If he had to stop being a boychick, that would be his goal as a young man.

Some part of him had been aware of Cara's words, and he caught her invitation to their home. "Why secrets?" he had to know. "You and Mark shouldn't have secrets, should you? Or, do you mean secrets from the world? We named our house Sanctuary, but that's not what it was after all. We ended up bein' torn apart." He had shed so many tears that he could say it without breaking down though his voice trembled. "I thought it was the right thing to do," he murmured, as if he was alone. "I thought I was doin' the right thing." After a moment, he seemed to come out of whatever mood he had fallen prey to, glancing over at Cara, lashes fluttering, revealing his nervousness at viewing her as an expectant mother. "Babies really are as small as~like~a jelly bean?" He had not been able to resist his curiosity about her remark.

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

In the interest of catching up Cara asked her friend about the Mask, what he had gone us wondering, for that night she had seen lots of amazing costumes her own being an angel the very name her husband called her.

"Umm... A fallen angel. I had somebody make it for me~wings and everything. Didn't wear a mask 'cause I guess I felt like that's what I was~not exactly a devil but sure not an angel. I was gonna go as Puss in Boots, and I would've looked really stupid. Then, I saw a picture of this h... this guy in a black outfit. I took it to somebody on Mr. Mehmet's list, and they made me a costume~a really hot costume. I figure that I can wear it without the wings and get by. Made me feel~good,"

Cara couldn't help but smile at his words already able to guess the one he left out for knowing him. As for the fallen angel part she wasn't quite sure what he meant by that for there where a lot of way 'fallen angel' was used she found herself wondering if he had any photos though she also found herself wondering how he'd look like a cat in boots.

"I'll have to take your word on the hot guy part" she said smiling before he went on.

"like I could have anybody I wanted and not care~just use 'em and toss 'em. Nobody'd make me hurt anymore, shovin' me aside like I don't matter."

The smile on her face washed away as she heard this, memories flooding back of the time she felt that way, the time when men seemed to toy with her feelings got close only to never speak to her again... it still struck a cord.

"Why secrets?" she then heard him ask somewhat snapping her back to the here and now. "You and Mark shouldn't have secrets, should you? Or, do you mean secrets from the world? We named our house Sanctuary, but that's not what it was after all. We ended up bein' torn apart."

She was just about to answer him when she stopped seeing him wanting to go on, as if to collect his thoughts, open up in some way though holding back.

"I thought it was the right thing to do, I thought I was doin' the right thing."

She said nothing only watching as his gaze returned to her his eyes fall of something she couldn't quite read.

"Babies really are as small as~like~a jelly bean?"

Smiling she nodded placing her hands on her belly again.

"As they are growing in the womb they are though it's hard to believe this little one was ever that small the way she kicks now." She stopped there a thought coming to her mind "Would you like to feel it?"

She waited wondering if he would or not.

"Easy as the whole people hurting you thing I know what it feels like to be pushed away, to be all alone remember I talked to you then and you reminded me that their were people who cared Easy Mark and I may not be as close to you as your house mates where but we are your friends. Let me guess you're thinking about turning your back like I was, keep running not let anyone in it's not the way to go you only end up hurting more take it from someone who knows and that been there and done that.... who knows maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

To Easy, she did the wise thing and leapt over all that he had said to the final thing, his question about babies. "As they are growing in the womb they are though it's hard to believe this little one was ever that small the way she kicks now." She hesitated then asked, "Would you like to feel it?"

Shocked, Easy looked away from her, shaking his head fiercely as he did so. Just so there would be no mistake, he wrapped his arms around his slender frame. "No!" he gasped, as if she had suggested something outrageous. There was something about the thought of feeling that life inside of her that terrified him though he could not have explained why. He had never touched Lydia or any other pregnant female he'd ever encountered and never held an infant, not even Lydia's child. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did so.

He tried to focus on what she had to say next, pushing troubling thoughts aside.

"Easy, as the whole people hurting you thing, I know what it feels like to be pushed away, to be all alone. Remember I talked to you then and you reminded me that there were people who cared. Easy, Mark and I may not be as close to you as your house mates where but we are your friends. Let me guess you're thinking about turning your back like I was, keep running not let anyone in. It's not the way to go you only end up hurting more. Take it from someone who knows and that been there and done that.... who knows maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

Easy was uncertain about what he should say. She knew him well enough to know his tendency to push people away though he had reached out in a way to her and then to Mark. It had seemed at that time that his world might be settling down, only to begin teetering at the party, attended by only a few of those he had expected. Then, Lilith had said goodbye to him and to Sanctuary, and his world had suffered a mortal blow. Would it have made a difference if she had remained long enough for his acceptance into the orchestra? Now, that seemed so empty to him, for it wasn't his goal at any time, not as it was for other musicians who came to Opera Populaire. He realized that Cara knew what he wanted to do: shut out everyone, rid himself of any connections.

"I never asked to be in the orchestra," he said quietly. "This guy, Calvin... He got this lady to listen to me, and she said~she said... She said I'm good, but I never..." He turned slightly to look at her, his expression tragic, distraught. "I never wanted that, Cara. Why would I want anything without Lily 'n' Iah? And, Lazare... He's goin' away~gone. I... I don't..." He sighed heavily, head bowed now, unsure of what he wanted to say or do, thinking that he needed solitude but fearing what he might do when completely alone. "Guess I'm a mess," he admitted. "Always have been. Always will be."

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

The House of Secrets had been named just that for a reason some clear while others weren't though in time they did in twine as Easy asked about the name Cara didn't say anything for he already knew the big secret though she still had no idea if he truly believed or not.... and as for the other secrets for know she thought it best and safest to only have the Blaze family know of the houses other secrets instead she jumped quickly to a topic she could answer, the baby.

She told him that the name she had given the growing child was not just some funny yet strange joke that the reason behind Jelly Bean as a nickname was because they where truly that small at one stage of growth. She then asked if he wanted to feel the baby kick to which she wasn't must surprised by his answer though the quickness of it did shock her a little.

"No!" he gasped as if it was a built in answer and instead of pushing it she instead turned into her old self the girl that had spoken to him before the cryptic.

Without holding anything back she told him that she knew how he wanted to push people away, to not get close, it was a fear he had shown her just a few seconds ago. She revealed to him that she herself had done just what he was planning on doing, telling him it was not the way somewhat feeling she was talking to Mark again before he had turned around and loved her, never thinking he would ever find love again.

"I never asked to be in the orchestra,"

She heard him start quietly.

"This guy, Calvin... He got this lady to listen to me, and she said~she said... She said I'm good, but I never..."

He turned to face her then the gaze he then gave her reminding her of how she had felt long ago when the tables had been turned, when she was in his place and he in hers.

"I never wanted that, Cara. Why would I want anything without Lily 'n' Iah? And, Lazare... He's goin' away~gone. I... I don't..."

She said nothing only hearing the heavy sigh he let out of his lungs as his head bowed.

"Guess I'm a mess, always have been. Always will be."

"Unless you do something about it." she pushed not one to let him wallow in his feelings. "You say you don't want to be in the orchestra then don't be if it's not what you want, to many people waist their lives in things they don't want trying to make other people happy and before you say anything about me going back to dancing when I said I didn't want to ever be on that stage again after my mother died, I realized that dancing is a part of me I love doing it, you just need to find what you love."

She paused there letting her words hopefully sink in.

"Easy if you plan on pushing people away Lily, Iah and Lazare will mean nothing, they won't matter anymore, will they you cut off your ties to everyone you'll be cutting off theirs to. Life isn't meant to be lived alone look at Mark he was alone for so long but he married me, started a family with me people are meant to have others in their life."

She reached out to Easy then lifting his head so his gaze meet hers.

"Would you push away your heart, make it brake for the soul purpose of keeping out some of the pain? A heart isn't meant to be cold Easy and what if something were to happen to your friends and you weren't there how would you fell then?"

She stopped again waiting her hand reaching up the her neck knowing that Easy would know the gesture by now.

"I don't remember if I ever told you this, or if Mark ever did either but I offered Dementis my life in exchange for yours I would of gladly died that night he had you. You are part of my family Easy, the only other person that Mark trusts you can give up your own hear, it is after all yours but... would you rip out ours by your leaving?"

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

"Unless you do something about it," was Cara's comeback, startling Easy, as he realized that he had spoken aloud what he so often simply thought. He was getting careless, he realized. Perhaps it was lack of sleep and very little food that had him letting his guard down. He still felt as if he was walking around in a daze though it was more like a nightmare at times, with the world he thought he had built falling apart.

"You say you don't want to be in the orchestra," Cara continued, "then don't be if it's not what you want. Too many people waste their lives in things they don't want trying to make other people happy." A very good point, he thought, as he had been doing exactly that: doing things to make others happy, to try to become "normal" when he wasn't certain that he wanted that at all. "And before you say anything about me going back to dancing when I said I didn't want to ever be on that stage again after my mother died, I realized that dancing is a part of me," she explained, and he realized that he had to strain to recall their early meetings, which generally had left both of them in an emotional wreck. "I love doing it. You just need to find what you love."

For a moment, he was strongly tempted to tell her what he thought he might want to do because he doubted very much that she would approve. If he did return to that life and ceased his lessons, he had no ties to Opera Populaire, meaning he was cast farther adrift than he had thought when he began this particular plan of action. But, if he was Alleycat once more, he wouldn't need these people. He had to reach that state of mind again, ridding himself of the boy who wanted people to like him, needed friendship. Could he achieve that after all this time?

"Easy," Cara began again, "if you plan on pushing people away Lily, Iah and Lazare will mean nothing. They won't matter anymore, will they? You cut off your ties to everyone, you'll be cutting off theirs too. Life isn't meant to be lived alone. Look at Mark. He was alone for so long but he married me, started a family with me. People are meant to have others in their life." At that, he felt her touch as, with gently applied force, she made him look at her, which made it difficult to remain stony, as his eyes shimmered with the threat of tears that he wished to refuse to let fall but felt he was losing the battle with. "Would you push away your heart, make it break for the sole purpose of keeping out some of the pain? A heart isn't meant to be cold, Easy, and what if something were to happen to your friends and you weren't there, how would you feel then?" The touch of her hand ceased, and he noticed her touching her throat in a habitual gesture, making him think of someone toying with a necklace though he wasn't sure that that was it. "I don't remember if I ever told you this, or if Mark ever did either but I offered Dementis my life in exchange for yours. I would of gladly died that night he had you. You are part of my family Easy, the only other person that Mark trusts. You can give up your own heart, it is after all yours but... would you rip out ours by your leaving?"

"That's just it, Cara," he began quietly. "You got Mark and the baby. That's enough to worry about. Lily's prob'ly got someone who'll say he~he loves her. Iah's gonna be better off without me. All I ever did was hurt them and prob'ly use them. They liked me, Cara. No, they loved me, and that hurt them so bad that they had to leave~couldn't take bein' 'round me no more. All I ever do is hurt people who get near me. Nobody ever got better stuff out of life from knowin' me. I drag 'em down, give 'em stuff to worry about, make 'em cry or get mad or upset. I dirty up everything for them 'cause I can't change what I am, and I don't think I want to anymore. Don't want to play a violin with a whole bunch of people and get picked out to get yelled at, just like at schools I went to. I heard people sayin' things about me, like I'm no good or pushin' in where I don't belong. I see how they look at me." His voice had begun trembling, and he fell silent till he was sure that he could go on without breaking down. "I~I wanna tell 'em to go to hell, but I know I can't. I can't say I'm as good as them. I can't say I studied as long as they did. So what if I can play decent? So can thousands of other people!" That had a snap to it as he found strength in anger. "I was a big joke to Lazare," he decided, "some stupid kid who'd pay him a lot of money for a lot of lessons. Like I'm gonna be a singer!" A scornful sneer twisted his lips, as his self-hatred grew. "Stupid!" His fingers clawed deeply at his flesh, capable only of bruising through the protection of cloth. However, that did not diminish the feelings he had toward the man. He could never hate Lazare, even though he knew he could never have him in any way, not even as a teacher. "You don't understand," he said quietly, his voice growing husky at impending tears. "Nobody understands." He had kept telling himself it was one of his crushes~always unrequited but survivable. His deepest terror was that this might be what love was, and he did not want it! Perhaps the only remedy was to cut himself free from this life as much as he could. He had been told that an animal caught in a trap might gnaw off its leg in order to escape. In some ways, his life in Paris had seemed an amazing gift. Now, it seemed more and more like a trap, wounding him in dozens of ways, causing him more emotional pain than he could take. He couldn't even find an escape to the streets the way he used to, not in this place. It was too different, or he was perhaps. He needed to be wanted~craved that sensation. He was not going to find that at the Opera House or on the streets. Rozaliya Donkova told him that he needed to take, but that wasn't what he wanted. He needed to be taken, needed to yield to someone. Cara was too naive to understand any of this.

"Sorry. M-maybe I should go, Cara. You... You shouldn't get upset, and that's all I'm gonna do. You 'n' Mark don't need me. You got each other. I~I just hope the baby..." He let the rest of it go. They knew what he hoped. Mark and Cara still clung to their belief in a demon, and he wished he wasn't concerned about the effect this could have on their child. There: If he cut them free, there would be no need to worry anymore. What he did not know about would no longer concern him. That seemed reasonable enough. He unwound from his position, readying himself to leave, supposing he could work on his project another day. Without Iah, there would be no more pretend-tent, no dancing to alluring music, no gentle words and touch, things he had taken for granted. It seemed punishment beyond endurance to lose both of his friends and housemates. "I gotta go!" There was an urgency to it now as he scrambled to his feet, brushing off straw that always clung. "It's not your fault, Cara. I just... I have to go, OK?" He turned to walk away, trying not to break and run out of the stables to where he wasn't certain of.

Perhaps he needed the dark side of Paris.

OOC: I wasn't sure if Cara would try to follow. I figured that, in her condition, she might not do that. BIC:

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

Yes it certainly seemed like the roles had turned she the stable one and Easy the wreck that needed to vent. It seemed like he thought no one cared about him, like he was lost and alone and yet would be better off if he was alone some sort of strange cycle that canceled out everything.

Cara tried talking to him but it didn't seem to work for even as she spoke she could see his face fall, see something in his eyes that told her he only saw one way forward.... run... leave everything behind and run.

It was because of this that she even tried pointing out the life that Mark had chosen for her husband and been alone for so long but in the end he had figured out that he wanted to love and be loved in return, realized that life wasn't meant to be lived alone... it seemed Easy had other ideas though.

"That's just it, Cara," he started. "You got Mark and the baby. That's enough to worry about. Lily's prob'ly got someone who'll say he~he loves her. Iah's gonna be better off without me. All I ever did was hurt them and prob'ly use them. They liked me, Cara. No, they loved me, and that hurt them so bad that they had to leave~couldn't take bein' 'round me no more. All I ever do is hurt people who get near me. Nobody ever got better stuff out of life from knowin' me. I drag 'em down, give 'em stuff to worry about, make 'em cry or get mad or upset. I dirty up everything for them 'cause I can't change what I am, and I don't think I want to anymore. Don't want to play a violin with a whole bunch of people and get picked out to get yelled at, just like at schools I went to. I heard people sayin' things about me, like I'm no good or pushin' in where I don't belong. I see how they look at me."

As his voice began to tremble her brow raised her owe life running through her head as she replayed his words there was one thing that seemed to stand out however, one thing that seemed to be the course of all of what he was saying but she remained silent knowing he had more to say... to vent.

"I~I wanna tell 'em to go to hell, but I know I can't. I can't say I'm as good as them. I can't say I studied as long as they did. So what if I can play decent? So can thousands of other people! I was a big joke to Lazare,"

Now that got her attention she was about to point out something, two somethings actually but just as she was about to speak Easy started up again.

"some stupid kid who'd pay him a lot of money for a lot of lessons. Like I'm gonna be a singer! Stupid!"

She watched as his finger's clawed into his pants making her glade that he wouldn't be drawing blood but still wishing he would stop.

"You don't understand," He said at last.

From her place on the hay pile her own anger began to rise those three words seeming to be short at her over and over when people really had no idea. It seemed people still thought he innocent despite other's thinking she was crazy for marrying the man she did, it seemed hard for people to truly look at her, understand her look beyond the women who spoke in a soft voice and see the person she was.

"Sorry. M-maybe I should go, Cara. You... You shouldn't get upset, and that's all I'm gonna do. You 'n' Mark don't need me. You got each other. I~I just hope the baby..." He let the sentence go but she knew.

She watched as he stood to leave she trying to do the same to reach out for him and make him stop, listen to her.

"I gotta go! It's not your fault, Cara. I just... I have to go, OK?"

He turned to go then and Cara fort to hold her tongue but the harder she tried the more it wanted to come out.

"No," she said at last. "It's not okay. I lost everyone I cared for, I'm married to a man that everyone thinks is a monster and because of it everyone thinks I'm crazy. The friends that I thought I had have left and everyone is trying to protect me and tell me what to do, how I should think."

She stopped there and tried to stand finally pulling herself up by holding onto a near by rope. She walked over to Easy then. catching him before he left she turned then an idea popping into her mind.

"I could lose Mark at any moment people have tried to kill him and even me" She lifted up her shirt then revealing the cuts along her back and even the burned in heart. "People talk but it doesn't mean you have to listen. Forgive me but.... it just seems you're running away and for what to shelter yourself no matter where you go you'll have those feelings inside you Mark has a demon inside him who wanted to kill but he has feelings to and no matter what, you can't ran away from your past."

She let her shirt fall down then turned to face her friend once more.

"If you are going to go at lest say goodbye to your friends let them tell you how they feel about you, don't put thought in their mouth... and no matter what you say Easy I'll always need you and you did help one person... maybe even two whether you believe it or not."

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy “Cat” Tanner

To his declaration that he was leaving, he was startled by Cara‘s "No. It's not okay.” He paused in midstep, his back still to her, his right hand on the framework of the entrance, as if he could draw strength from it. He was determined to leave, but he would hear her out: ”I lost everyone I cared for,” she said. “I'm married to a man that everyone thinks is a monster and because of it everyone thinks I'm crazy.” He could understand the crazy part because Mark Blaze, a man he had befriended, was convinced he was possessed by a demon, and he had spread this belief to Cara, perhaps because she had no one else though she had spoken of her patron. “The friends that I thought I had have left and everyone is trying to protect me and tell me what to do, how I should think." Then, he heard sounds that told him she had gotten to her feet and was walking toward him. He remained frozen in place, head cocked slightly, letting her know that he would listen but wasn’t relenting.

"I could lose Mark at any moment,” Cara said, and he could hear the fear in her voice, but he willed himself not to weaken. “People have tried to kill him and even me." He heard the rustle of cloth and turned his head enough that he could catch a sideways glance, his lips tightening at the evidence of injuries. The marks only made him more determined to cut himself free. Cara was choosing to cling to a dangerous man, even while carrying a new life, a child who would be born into a world filled with fear and uncertainty, of outbursts of violence. He could not see how their love could outweigh the terrible times. He would not say anything for he had said it all before, and Cara had not listened. "People talk but it doesn't mean you have to listen.” The similarity to his thought startled him, but he covered his surprise with ease, stoniness becoming increasingly a pattern of behavior. “Forgive me but.... it just seems you're running away and for what to shelter yourself no matter where you go you'll have those feelings inside you. Mark has a demon inside him who wanted to kill but he has feelings too and no matter what, you can't run away from your past."

Why did people think he was running away from his past? Wasn’t he turning to embrace it, having realized that he could not escape the memories? He was trying to recapture the tough streetboy he had been, one who looked out for himself alone whenever possible, one who lived from day to day, never expecting a long life. He no longer wanted to be Kitten or even Cat. He was ready to be Alleycat once more. Maybe he’d earn another streetname in time. He remembered what Lazare Moreau had called him. Wasn’t it petit bete~little beast? Maybe he’d test it out to see what it sounded like from others’ lips.

Then, he was aware that Cara was speaking again: "If you are going to go at least say goodbye to your friends. Let them tell you how they feel about you. Don't put thought in their mouth... and no matter what you say, Easy, I'll always need you and you did help one person... maybe even two whether you believe it or not."

“That should count against me,” he stated quietly, “you ‘n’ Mark. How can you believe everything’s gonna be OK when people come after you and hurt you? Mark’s got you convinced about this demon thing. That what you’re gonna teach your kid? What’s that gonna do to him~or her~whatever? You don’t need to be worried ‘bout me ‘cause you got plenty to worry about now.”

Reluctantly, he turned to look fully at her, his face an ivory mask, betraying no emotion. “I never fit in, Cara, never. Shouldn’t’ve tried. Shouldn’t’ve bargained with Chance. Should’ve kept doin’ what I was doin’. Just wasted a lot of money learnin’ to do stuff I guess I really didn’t want to do. Lily’s gone. Iah’s gone. Lazare’s gone. I can’t do it without them. Don’t think I’ll ever want to sing again.” It was true. He felt so weary that he could not imagine singing, dancing or even holding Azer in his arms again, drawing melodies from the violin that had been his near-constant companion till recently. “I just need time away from everything,” he stated wearily. “No lessons. No rehearsals. No nothin’. I~I’ll be OK.” Once more, he turned to walk away, pausing to straighten his posture, reaching for the movements he had abandoned while trying to be someone else.

OOC: This scene is officially over. Witch has decided to not continue since so much time has passed. BIC:

[A_Single_Rose]

OOC: For Easy and Evrard. A continuation of their scene at the Christmas event. Sorry for having taken so long. BIC:

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

Evrard pulled out a pair of leather gloves and slipped them swiftly over his hands. The cold had finally gotten to him. Evrard looked over at the young man, whom he was sure he had never seen before. The young man - barely a man - was dressed in a ridiculously unfitting tuxedo with an individual flair to it that shouted "poverty." The thin twig of a man had looked at him with an inquiring expression. Somehow, this child knew Evea as well. Despite the cold, Evrard's blood was boiling. With a sharp flick of his hand, he gestured to the man to follow him. He wasn't about to have a conversation in the damned cold. He wasn't sure where to go. The foyer and the main sections of the opera house were out of the question. It was impossible to hold a decent conversation among those crowds of people. Evrard exited the courtyard and entered through a door to a staircase. The stables. Evrard shook his head then descended the stairs.

He glanced back at the young man behind him. A grimace of disdain crept into the corner of his mouth. "You said your name was Tanner? Easy Tanner?" He couldn't hide the hint of sarcasm at saying the man's name. God, what sort of parents named their child "Easy?" Ridiculous - if that was his real name, of course. Even if it was a nickname, it was no less idiotic. Oh, the youth of today... Evea was an anomaly and it seemed she didn't discriminate when it came to her taste in men. As he though about this, his breathing subtly quickened in anger. What was it about Evea seeing other men that angered him? He wasn't exactly faithful himself. He didn't love the young broad. She was a dessert of sorts - a guilty pleasure. After two failed engagement and a divorce, he would never allow himself to be tied down to a single woman again. There was no point behind it. He did not want a family. For Godsake, he didn't even contact his own immediate family.

They had reached the bottom and were close to the stables, as evidenced by the rank stench of animal. Evrard turned and coughed to the side, overwhelmed by the creeping smell. "I am Evrard," he murmured, wiping the side of his chin with his gloved hand. "So Evea..." He straightened himself and slipped off his gloves. "You are 'friends' with Evea? A woman like her doesn't merely have 'friends.'" His mouth twitched once at uttering "friend." He knew damn well that the two weren't merely "friends," unless the word had completely changed meaning with that promiscuous broad.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

At this point, Easy was wishing that he had had the sense to keep his mouth shut, as the older man acted irritated and angry as he watched him pull on his gloves. He shivered as much from the cold as from the strength he sensed in the man, his stomach fluttering as he became unsure of where he stood. The man looked tough, in spite of his elegant apparel that made Easy extremely self-conscious of his ill-fitting Victorian garb, especially with the borrowed coat and cap. In other circumstances, he might have relished the hint of a threat. So, why was he feeling so edgy now?

The man began walking, and Easy followed him, through the courtyard and into the stables, immediately thinking of the hideaway he had made for himself there, a lair he had shared with Iah Raksha, who had departed from his life not long after Lilith Eytinge. His heart ached at those losses, distracting him, causing him to miss the moment when the man looked back at him so that he did not see the disdainful look on the craggily handsome face. It wasn't until he spoke that the youth was roused from his mournful memories.

"You said your name was Tanner? Easy Tanner?" Wincing visibly at the barely concealed taunt, the raven-haired youth nodded. For once, he thought, laughter or a joke might have been welcome over the look the man had given him. For a moment, the man turned away to cough, and Easy froze at the sound, tensing even more as the cold gaze was aimed at him again, the man wiping at his mouth, making Easy feel as if it was his very name that had been distasteful enough to cause this. "I am Evrard," the man said by way of introduction, and Easy wondered if that name was any less unusual than his own. He had never heard of an Evrard, but he wasn't about to look disgusted about it, he thought with some vehemence, which was unusual for him, a show of spirit where such was rare. "So Evea..." As he pause, he removed the gloves that he had donned such a short while before, causing Easy to fall back a stumbling step as if he expected to be struck either with a bared hand or with the gloves, as he had seen in a movie set in "olden times", as he thought of them. "You are 'friends' with Evea? A woman like her doesn't merely have 'friends.'" The movement of the stern mouth reminded Easy of Jamil Mehmet at his harshest and of Rafe Chancery just before he should be fleeing for shelter. Every moment in the man's presence was regressing him to the wary, half-wild child he had been for most of his life, a nearly feral being who had been so often prepared for a sharp word and a stinging blow. The tawny eyes were wide in the thin face, uncertain of how to measure the man before him.

"I~I'm Evea's friend," he said, trying to say it as steadily as possible but hearing his voice quiver. "S-she taught me about c-cameras and~and taking photos," he explained. "I met her several times~at the Eiffel Tower, at Note Bleue. We~we danced and talked then~um~she~she visited my place. She was so sad and..." He swallowed, his throat aching from tension. "We talked." They had. "She saw things I photographed." She had. "You say 'a woman like her'. What about you?" he challenged, undoubtedly foolishly. "It's OK for a guy like you to sleep around but not a woman? You got rules for women and for men?" Trying to stand his ground, he took a deep breath, relaxing as much as possible, and smiled~no~smirked. "Know what? I bet I got more experience than you, Mr. Evrard. As for Evea: I bet you don't even know about her. You think she's~what?~been around the block and back again? You're wrong. You don't know so much after all!" It had come out more loudly and much more forcefully than he had intended, and he might have blushed if the cold hadn't claimed him so thoroughly. "Why were you sayin' her name like that? Did she dump you? Is that why you're sayin' that about her? I don't think you know her at all."

Great, Cat! They'll never find your body out here! Oh well, if the guy beat him up too much, he could crawl into his stall, curl up and maybe finally leave the life he had tried so hard to depart repeatedly.

[Daroga]

OOC: Open RP. Be gentle I'm trying to ease back into it... BIC:

Phoenix Mercer (http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t277/JonRugger/005SNT_Jewel_Staite_002-1.jpg)

Sometimes Phoenix had to marvel how the Opera House had managed to stand for as long as it had. It was really no wonder that there were as many "mysterious" accidents around here as there were. She had heard all the rumors. Especially back when she had been dating Luc Danier people were always asking her for details of the night the chandelier in the grand hall had fallen and nearly killed him. As though she would have known about something that happened long before she had arrived. Not that details like that ever prevented anyone around here for digging for more juicy gossip. Most people like to believe that the nefarious "Opera Ghost" had played a part in the near tragic accident. But the official story had always been improper maintenance of the chain supporting the fixture to the ceiling. The longer Phoenix was here the more the latter seemed not more likely but more inevitable.

Phoenix grunted as rolled herself halfway out from underneath the shiny black sedan that now sat atop ramps in the front and a pair of jacks in the back, she grunted slightly as she pushed aside ancient bits of hay in the converted horse stall that now held more horsepower than actual equines. Her delicate but calloused fingers glanced over various tools spread out on the ground nearby, feeling each one in turn before rejecting it and moving on. Finally she felt the oddly angled neck of the O2 wrench and snatched it up disappearing back underneath the vehicle. The car wasn't used often and when it was pulled out to pick up a visiting high profile performer or escort members of management to further corners of the city it was expected to be in pristine condition. A great plan if they would have taken the time to ensure time and money for it's proper care. But as she was beginning to discover, little things like vehicle maintenance were far from important to the Opera House management and staff. That's why when one visiting diva noted a rattling sound to the manager accompanying her from the airport the aforementioned manager nearly had a coronary of embarrassment and she had somehow been elected to the task of righting the problem, immediately. In Phoenix's personal opinion what he should have been embarassed about was the telltale sign of lack of care in how loose the heat-sheild was on the cars cataylic converter. And that wasn't even taking into consideration how they were just begging for disaster to park a vehicle in that condition in a former stall. She could make it simple for them if necessary. Bad heat-shield does not shield heat, with her so far? Unshielded heat from the cars exhausted parked inches above a virtual tinder box of centuries of dry hat makes for a REALLY bad day for someone. But so far the bad day was to be for her and her alone as she helped the Opera House side step yet one more "unexplainable disaster".

What should have been a simple job of securing the heat shield and thus curing the unacceptable rattle became a lot more difficult when she discovered the whole converter needed to be replaced. But though she would gladly, and loudly, complain about the hassle to whatever manager would ask, unlikely, she was actually enjoying herself immensely. There was something therapeutic above the task literally in her hands. No bickering stage hands bringing her a thousand complaints. No managers barking a million "requests". No giggling chorus girls getting in her way. No chauvinist dancers making sexist comments about a woman getting her hands dirty. Just her and her overalls in the peaceful silence of the stables, the grease on her face and the dirt under her nails, the clink of metal on metal, and the unparalleled rush of getting something done and done right, and doing it herself.

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

He stuffed his gloves into the pocket of his trousers and glanced around at their surroundings before disdainfully returning his gaze at theyoung man - more like a boy, actually - standing timid before him. He had only ever been down here once some time ago. He couldn't even remember why he had ventured down here. He fought a grimace at the stale, hovering stench. Why anyone would willingly come down here, he did not know. For his purposes, it was a quiet, secluded section of the opera house where he could talk - civilly, of course - with Easy.

"I~I'm Evea's friend," Evrard fought the urge to roll his eyes at the boy's lack of masculinity. Please, if you're going to speak, speak with dignity. For a moment, he wondered why he even brought this boy down here. It would only serve to further boil his temper. Ticking time bomb... "S-she taught me about c-cameras and~and taking photos, I met her several times~at the Eiffel Tower, at Note Bleue. We~we danced and talked then~um~she~she visited my place. She was so sad and..." Spit it out, man! Evrard almost wanted to blatantly shout at the boy. Evea had peculiar tastes indeed. Perhaps she had pitied the scraggly boy. He felt as if he were talking to a primary school boy. Someone fetch this boys parents... "We talked. She saw things I photographed." Evrard was growing impatient. This boy was an idiot. Perhaps Evea truly had pitied him.

"You say 'a woman like her'. What about you?" Evrard raised a surprised brow and crossed his arms, not backing down from the boy's boldening gaze. Ah, now they were getting somewhere. "It's OK for a guy like you to sleep around but not a woman? You got rules for women and for men?" Was that a smirk? "Know what? I bet I got more experience than you, Mr. Evrard. As for Evea: I bet you don't even know about her. You think she's~what?~been around the block and back again? You're wrong. You don't know so much after all!" Ah, the naivete of youth... Evrard took in an impatient breath and blinked slowly, looking across at the young man, who suddenly seemed to have discovered a backbone. The child was still a fool. "Why were you sayin' her name like that? Did she dump you? Is that why you're sayin' that about her? I don't think you know her at all."

For the longest, heaviest moment, Evrard stayed silent, mulling over Easy's brazen speech. Suddenly, he laughed. The deep sound reached the stalls and bounced around quietly until he stopped. He smiled without mirth and looked back at the naive young man. "'Dump me?' I don't 'know her at all?'" Evrard closed his eyes, then reopened them slowly and shook his head subtly. "Oh, how naive you are! What a shallow, ignorant conclusion you have there. Have you been watching your cliched dramatic cinema, young man? Is that where you are getting these foolish ideas? God, what I wouldn't give to speak to someone intelligent here." He shook his head, his smile now gone. "And the most amusing thing here is that you think I don't know her at all, when in fact it is you who obviously knows nothing." He scoffed. "If you knew the secrets that silly broad hid beneath those golden locks and fluttering eyelids... You'd realize the stupidity of your words." Evrard stared the young man down, having returned the brash challenge with bitter relish.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy felt as if he had pushed too far and wondered just how volatile this man was. One punch would floor him. Heck! One solid slap would do the trick! But, he was ready to chance it. He braced himself for the violence but was shocked to instead hear laughter, a deep, echoing sound that seemed to fill the stables, reminding him how alone they were. When the laughter stopped and the man smiled, it was chilling, and Easy shivered as much from that expression as from the wintry weather.

"'Dump me?' I don't 'know her at all?'" Easy watched as the man did a sort of slow-motion blink, with a shake of his head, a movement with a weariness to it as if to tell the youth how put-upon he felt. "Oh, how naive you are! What a shallow, ignorant conclusion you have there. Have you been watching your cliched dramatic cinema, young man? Is that where you are getting these foolish ideas? God, what I wouldn't give to speak to someone intelligent here." The smile vanished, and Easy tensed, thinking that now the violence would happen. He had been ready to be looked down upon by someone such as this man obviously was, but he had personal experience to keep him strong enough not to break under the harsh words and contemptuous attitude. In a card game, perhaps he could have said to have been holding an ace. "And the most amusing thing here is that you think I don't know her at all, when in fact it is you who obviously knows nothing. If you knew the secrets that silly broad hid beneath those golden locks and fluttering eyelids... You'd realize the stupidity of your words."

The stony glare tried to break him, but Easy's gemstone eyes had their own hard look that would not shatter as the corners of his mouth tilted into a cocky grin. "You know her one way I bet: the user way. I been used, too, so I understand her there. You don't know what we talked about, and it sure wasn't you, not one word as far as I know. She told me how they almost killed her, how they want to. I told her how somebody almost killed me, left me for dead. Only, the big difference is she wants to face her demons, and I..." This time, it was he who gave his head a shake, fearing that he had revealed too much. "You're a user. You think a lot of other guys have, too~used her. You're wrong, which tells me you can be stupid about some things the way I can be." He had never dared talk to such a man in this way before, and his blood seemed to be throbbing in his ears, his heart acting as if it could hammer its way out of his chest. Again, he shivered and continued trembling, his teeth beginning the rattle that hinted at hypothermia, something that he had become well-acquainted with early in his life and especially while on the streets. "She's not a 'silly broad', and she's never pulled that 'fluttering eyelids' on me. Guess she knows how to play you pretty good, and it's makin' you crazy. Somebody else has her, don't they? That's why you're so mad. That's why you said her name like that out there. You're not used to losin' out. You're used to getting your way, no matter who you have to use. I know guys like you. I know one guy especially like you except he mainly uses his fists, not words to get at me. If I can handle him and my old man, I sure can handle you!" he challenged, chin jerking defiantly, burgeoning excitement driving away some of the cold. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be mauled by this tall, icy, arrogant man. It would drive the guy crazy to see someone excited by violence instead of cowering and fearful.

"In the olden days, they challenged guys like you for~ummm~insulting a lady's honor, right? You look like the type of guy who would go for a duel. Too bad we only have words to throw at each other. I don't win word fights," he admitted, "but I know Evea is a better person than you think she is, meaning you thought of her in only one way. Bet you treat all of them like that, right? Then, you move on to somebody else who'll tell you all over again how great you are. I know your type~in the Opera House or on the streets." Easy had no way of knowing what the relationship between Evea and this man had been, but he could make a wild guess.

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

Evrard's patience had reached a breaking point. Another trigger and he'd be off on a rampage, perhaps even go so far as "teach" this little runt a lesson in keeping to his own business. But of course, Evrard had been the one to continue the conversation. It was his idea to come down to these Godforsaken stables. He could have simply walked away and ignored the boy, but no - he had replied. Perhaps, inside, Evrard had wanted the confrontation. Perhaps Curiosity had something to do with - much to do with it. What were Evea's relations with this young man? Friendly? Platonic? Romantic? Evrard's jaw tightened. As of this moment, she was in the foyer, wrapped around her little golden boy. Here was another one of her "suitors." Evrard didn't even try hiding a sudden grimace as Easy - what an idiotic name - finally replied.

"You know her one way I bet: the user way. I been used, too, so I understand her there. You don't know what we talked about, and it sure wasn't you, not one word as far as I know. She told me how they almost killed her, how they want to. I told her how somebody almost killed me, left me for dead. Only, the big difference is she wants to face her demons, and I..." Evrard listened in silence, but his mind was in no way at ease. So this boy knew about Anastasia, then. So her secret wasn't quite so precious; it seemed she'd give it to any half-witted fool in Paris. Evrard frowned at the boy's attempt to make him "jealous." He sounded like he was grasping at straws. At least the boy had finally found a backbone. "You're a user. You think a lot of other guys have, too~used her. You're wrong, which tells me you can be stupid about some things the way I can be." The boy was truly naive! Evea could be nothing more than a whore, except she offered her services for free.

"She's not a 'silly broad', and she's never pulled that 'fluttering eyelids' on me. Guess she knows how to play you pretty good, and it's makin' you crazy. Somebody else has her, don't they? That's why you're so mad. That's why you said her name like that out there. You're not used to losin' out. You're used to getting your way, no matter who you have to use. I know guys like you. I know one guy especially like you except he mainly uses his fists, not words to get at me. If I can handle him and my old man, I sure can handle you!" Evrard's fingers flexed at his side - half out of cold, half out of anger. This boy was out of line. It seemed the young fool was trying to deliberately coax Evrard into a physical brawl. No, he wouldn't resort to that - not yet, at least. The boy was underestimating him.

"In the olden days, they challenged guys like you for~ummm~insulting a lady's honor, right? You look like the type of guy who would go for a duel. Too bad we only have words to throw at each other. I don't win word fights, but I know Evea is a better person than you think she is, meaning you thought of her in only one way. Bet you treat all of them like that, right? Then, you move on to somebody else who'll tell you all over again how great you are. I know your type~in the Opera House or on the streets." Evrard scoffed at Easy's allusion to age-old duels and curled his mouth as if he had tasted something bad. The truth was, however, Evrard had not thought of her in "only one way." For a time, he had developed something that could be called "affection" for the girl. Nothing serious, of course, but it had been there for a fleeting moment.

"You are out of line, boy." His voice was steely and low and his stance had stiffened. "Evea Perry is nothing more than a silly girl, which makes her more than perfect for you..." He couldn't bring himself to say the boy's ridiculous name, "young man." Evrard sighed shortly and heavily. He continued bitterly: "You are an idiot and full of misconceptions. She means no more to me than I do to her. And you say she never mentioned me when speaking to you. I never speak of her either, besides now, so Evea and I are on the same page. She knew what she was getting into and that there'd be no attachments, no promises, no guarantees. I expected nothing from her either." Evrard unexpectantly smiled. "And we did actually talk once in a while. We didn't simply confine ourselves to the bedroom. I'm not that shallow." He rose a brow. It was a wonder how he kept himself this calm. Perhaps it was the memories of his happier moments with Evea that was keeping an explosion of anger at bay, if only for now. "Have you ever wondered how many men she has actually slept with? You aren't the only one, either." He clenched one fist at his side and nonchalantly wiped the front of his tuxedo with the other hand. The calm before the storm...

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

"You are out of line, boy," the man warned him needlessly for Easy knew that his words had been far too challenging from one so much younger. It did not matter that both might have been matched in certain experiences. The man was an adult male, someone he usually yielded to, even feared. What was going on that he was challenging this potentially dangerous man? It wasn't as if he was like the others, not as fixated on Evea as he seemed to be. He was startled out of his thoughts when the man spoke again.

"Evea Perry is nothing more than a silly girl, which makes her more than perfect for you... young man." Easy winced as if physically struck, so strong was the feeling that came with those dismissive, disdainful words. "You are an idiot and full of misconceptions." Easy bit at his lower lip, a nervous gesture, his fingers curling into his palm as he tensed, ready for a stream of abusive words. "She means no more to me than I do to her. And you say she never mentioned me when speaking to you. I never speak of her either, besides now, so Evea and I are on the same page. She knew what she was getting into and that there'd be no attachments, no promises, no guarantees. I expected nothing from her either." When the man smiled, it made Easy think of his father, Strat, though there wasn't quite the animalistic quality to it as Strephon Tanner's was capable of being. Still, it made him edgy, wishing that he had remained silent and not gotten himself into such a fix. "And we did actually talk once in a while," the man continued, and Easy sensed some change in him, less anger and perhaps more control, as if thinking of Evea had clicked within, stirring some quieter emotion for a change. We didn't simply confine ourselves to the bedroom. I'm not that shallow." Easy wondered if the man was always as changeable, reminding him of his own mercurial nature. Yet, somehow he could not picture himself at this man's age, and it was equally difficult to imagine the man before him as a youth though he felt certain that he must have been as certain of himself, confident, a taker. "Have you ever wondered how many men she has actually slept with?" That brought a slight shake of his head as the man threw at him, "You aren't the only one, either."

The movement of the man's hand caught the youth's attention so that he did not speak at first, the tawny gaze on that hand, as if forgetting where they were for the moment, mesmerized by images flooding his mind. How long he had been in that dazed, distracted state, he was uncertain. Suddenly, he was aware of how cold it was and how isolated they were. Most of all, a drowsiness had come upon him, and he realized that the frozen ground seemed to be reaching up and sapping any warmth his body retained.

"W-what?" he muttered, blinking several times then trying to move, to force the sticks his legs seemed to have become to move, to just take a step~forward or backwards. "Men~slept with?" He could not stop the giggle that escaped him. "Why should that matter? I got her beat. Prob'ly you, too, Mister. Got you both beat~both ways." He giggled again, but his amusement did not show on his face, which was now deathly pale. "She's not a whore or a tramp or whatever, Mister. I am! We didn't do nothin' but talk because I could tell she's more innocent than me. I didn't want her to just do it 'cause she was lonely and I was lonely. Wouldn't've been right. Even I know that. I'm not the person takin' her away from you. I wouldn't be any good for her. Besides..." He managed the cocky smirk without much trouble though he was feeling worse by the moment. "... she's not exactly my type." He hesitated then added, "Maybe you think more about her than you know. Only, I'm not sure you'd be good for her either. Maybe she's found somebody who won't use her. Ever think about that?"

OOC: I'm so sorry that this response took so long. The doctor tried me on a different medication, and the effects were not what they should have been. Now, I'm trying to get a bit more back to normal~again. *sigh* BIC:

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

Evrard was already tiring of the boy. He had already lost his focus, his purpose. Why had he dragged the miscreant down here? Perhaps he thought the scrawny boy could shed some light... What was there to know anymore? It was out of anger, pure anger that Evrard had come down here. At least the stable smell had faded - if only somewhat. It accompanied the acidic taste at the base of his throat. He felt like simply leaving without another word at this point. There was nothing more to say. Nothing conducive. It was only a verbal tennis match at this point, each hit returned with something equally vehement.

For a moment, there was a taut silence between them. Evrard would have left just then had Easy not tried to speak again. "W-what?" Evrard found the stutter almost amusing. "Men~slept with?" Evrard had not expected the boy to laugh. What in the hell was so funny? "Why should that matter? I got her beat. Prob'ly you, too, Mister. Got you both beat~both ways." Easy's words disgusted Evrard and he made no move to disguise it. Evrard enjoyed women. Some accused him of simply using women and disposing of them easily. Well, it was true. But he had taste. He didn't simply take anything that had legs. It was a varied taste, but he was sometimes particular in who he associated himself with.

"She's not a whore or a tramp or whatever, Mister. I am! We didn't do nothin' but talk because I could tell she's more innocent than me. I didn't want her to just do it 'cause she was lonely and I was lonely. Wouldn't've been right. Even I know that. I'm not the person takin' her away from you. I wouldn't be any good for her. Besides...... she's not exactly my type." Evrard admitted to himself that the boy's words surprised him. Annoyed and amused, he shook his head at Easy's blunt speech. The boy was nothing more than street trash, a walking bin of disease and wasted life. But Evrard would not take back saying Easy was "naive." In his opinion, the boy still was.

"Maybe you think more about her than you know. Only, I'm not sure you'd be good for her either. Maybe she's found somebody who won't use her. Ever think about that?" It was Evrard's turn to be silent. He could hear a quiet ticking in the back of his mind. His jaw tightened. His chest swelled. Control slipped from his hand as he closed the gap between them and punched the boy square in the jaw. An initial surge of adrenaline pulsed through him like a drug and he stood for a moment over the recovering Easy before stepping aside. "You should respect your elders." With that he made his way toward the stairs. There was nothing more he wanted to say.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had known when he pushed too far. It was strange how all men seemed to get the same look, the killer look, and he braced for the beating to come as the man came at him~astonished when the punch that felled him was not followed by more. Admittedly dazed because he was somewhat out of practice, he was ready to go into a protective position, arms shielding his head if necessary.

"You should respect your elders," the man admonished him before turning to leave, with Easy caught in mid-sheltering position, not cowering, simply realizing that there was to be no more violence. He remained where he was, finally tentatively touching his face where the blow had fallen, thinking that he had been through far worse not so long ago, treatment he had gone looking for. Now, seated quietly, he began shivering, giving way to bodywracking tremors as the tension of the situation fully caught up with him. Oddly, he had not felt that rush of excitement at the moment when the man had made his move, perhaps because there was no chance of anything sexual happening. In fact, now that he reflected on the man's lack of verbal response, he wondered if Evrard might not be the naive one. Had he ever realized what Easy had been referring to?

Once the sound of footsteps had faded, Easy got to his feet, no longer wishing to take part in this event. He would return the garments then summon a taxi to take him to Sanctuary, wondering if he ever would attend another of these events. His track record was absolutely atrocious (a word very recently added to his slowly growing vocabulary). Still rubbing his aching jaw, contemplating how he was going to explain the bruise and doubting he even would try, he headed back to the carriage rides, wondering if he could convince a driver to take him all the way home. The image made him smile~crookedly of course.

OOC: Easy's Christmas gala adventure has finally officially ended! *giggle* BIC:

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Please forgive me for double posting. Why So Silent and I want to have a reunion of Lazare and Easy (WHEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!), but~obviously~no one has posted since late June. I hope this is OK! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy crawled through the fresh straw layered on the floor of "his" stall, checking for any uneven spots, trying not to mind how the stuff was sticking to him and occasionally making him sneeze. This center stall was the last to receive this treatment, and this area of the stables, as a result, was positively fragrant in contrast with the other areas. Somewhere halfway through this straw, he had paused to shimmy out of the black silk shirt that acted as his jacket, followed by his black T-shirt, both of which, dampened by perspiration, were draped over the "wall" to his right. Now, the dust and straw that clung to his half-clad, slender frame made him feel so messily uncomfortable that he needed a break during which he would make use of the damp cloths he had brought, along with a towel to dry with, or else he'd trade one layer of dust and debris for a new one. Normally, he would not be stripped to his snug jeans (a pair sans holes and tears), but he did not expect any traffic at this time of day unless it was for some "messing around". They certainly wouldn't pick anywhere close to him since he was fairly close to the main entrance. They would go deeper into the shadows of the building. At least, he supposed so, wresting his thoughts from the path down which they were longing to go. Quickly, he bathed his already-aching torso and arms, the cool cloth welcome on his face that was faintly flushed. It eased the rapid rhythm of his heart into a less-stressful pace, and he fished out a bottle of water from the denim satchel, tempted to pour it over his head but instead getting it inside him, where it also would ease the ache of hunger. He leaned back against the rough wood slats and sighed heavily, staring across the way, his vision unfocused as he cooled down. A thought struck him, and he angled first one leg then the other up, removing the very creased and worn, black shortboots, setting them aside, wiggling his freed toes in luxury, feeling even cooler now and many years younger. There was no one to see the faint scars on his body or the more-prominent ones on his arms OR the tiny hoops that adorned his chest. Bowing his head, he looked at one circlet with its tiger's-eye bead then the other. As far as he was aware, only a couple of people at the Opera House knew about them, and he wondered what would be said if he ever did rise any further in this business. He grinned impishly at the thought, knowing it was foolish to believe it ever would happen, not for all the lessons in the world. Oh well... His body still looked passable enough to be on the streets once more, his boyishness very little changed, the nearly ivory skin as hairless as a boy's. He counted himself fortunate to have retained the smoothness of youth and the lean, wiry look that continued to deceive people when it came to his age.

At the thought of lessons, he turned to the pile of items at his side, resting on a square-foot section of brick that lay atop the straw. Picking up the violin case, he rested it on his lap and opened it, thinking back to his meeting with Devlon Deemer at the mausoleum and the man telling him about "mold babies" and other threats to the instrument. Was he mistreating it by bringing it here? Was he further abusing it by playing it in such an environment? With a shrug, he lifted violin and bow from the case, which he closed and set aside before getting to his feet. Then, following the usual adjustments and checks, he began playing one of the lilting melodies he had learned from Iah Raksha's albums, records filled with Middle Eastern and gypsy music. And, as he was accustomed to doing, he began a graceful dance, his movements certain as his body swayed with the music, his eyes drifting nearly closed, almost able to picture another place where a dark-haired youth with tawny eyes danced around a campfire, with the sight and sound of gold and silver coins tossed as a reward for his skills. For now, there were no lessons, performances, obligations and~most of all~a child waiting for him to be a father.

[Why So Silent]

Lazare Moreau

'Eventful' didn't even BEGIN to describe Lazare's first day back as the chorus master at the Opera Populaire. He supposed he should be grateful: the large majority of the chorus girls had missed him and proceeded to harp at him throughout most of the rehearsal, playing teacher's pet to their restored professor. The Frenchman had tried to avoid falling into a lull in his discipline, but as the girls far outnumbered him, it had been incredibly difficult to do so.

There were, of course, those who were less than pleased that their terrifying chorus master had returned. Lazare had learned that the substitute had been a strange fellow, but hadn't ruffled too many feathers, and thusly the man hated his replacement intensely. How was any progress in these girls' voices to be made if there was no change, even if the changes made weren't what they, personally wanted?

And so Lazare had, once the session was done, escaped from the needy voices of his students and retreated to other areas of the opera house... except that they were all full! Everywhere he went, there was a couple in the middle of some drama, or an opera manager or patron flirting with some performer, or another rehearsal going on. The Chorus Master was sick of so many people, and had finally found his feet taking him towards the stables. No one would be there, not at this part of the day: it was too early for lovebirds to be rolling 'in the hay', as it were, and too late for the workers to be mucking the stalls. The perfect respite.

Unfortunately enough for Lazare, who was not at all prepared for what awaited him, he was not alone in the long building. As he moved through the central area, reminiscing of the days when he would have aided his nerves with a cigarette, there came a lilting, hypnotic tune, floating through the heady air, aided by violin strings. It caught the chorus master so unawares that he stopped dead, hands still in his pockets, jacket draped over one arm. Furrowing his brows, the man turned in place, searching for the source.

Which direction to evade?

Time was not on the dark haired man's side, however, and the eastern music became more prominent as the young man playing the instrument stepped out from a stall further along the central hall. Lazare barely had enough time to recognize the.. rather disheveled youth as his ill-gifted 'student', one Easy Tanner, the Alley Cat that seemed bent on following him around, except that this time, the Frenchman had walked in on him. Blinking, the man cleared throat in response to the melody; he was not just about to up and leave at this interruption. This was his alone time, and Lazare always found himself in the right.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

In the midst of his reverie, Easy had been unaware that he now had company, however unwilling that person was to be company. Thus, the cleared throat jarred him just enough for the sweet note to become a *scritch*~a very tiny one, as he had learned control in his playing, but obviously a sound that revealed that he was startled. His first thought was of his lack of apparel save for jeans, and he dreaded turning to face the person to see how ashamed he was going to be feeling.

"I~um~was working," he began, "in the stalls and..." The rest hung in midair because he didn't really want to explain why he was doing such a thing. "Just thought I'd get in some practice and..." At that, he turned enough to see who the new arrival was, and he thought for a moment that his heart would stop. Bow in one hand and neck of violin in the other, he could only stand there, lips trembling as he tried to frame even one word, which, finally, was "I..." At that, he darted back into the stall, tumbling to the floor, setting his twin burdens aside, grabbing then donning the long-sleeved shirt, all in such swift movements that he was back only moments later, seeing that the vision was still there.

"Monsieur Lazare! I... You..." He could not have stopped what happened next had his life depended on it as he launched himself at the man, flinging his arms around his waist, much as he had that day in the man's apartment. Already, he was choking back tears, overwhelmed with what seemed a dream come true. What did this matter? After all, the man already hated him enough. In a voice of quiet intensity, as if trying to convince himself, he found himself saying, "You're back! You're back! You're back!", as if his dream might disappear if he did not verify it in this way.

Just as quickly, he released his hold and stepped back, his burning face bowed, wiping at his eyes with a shirt sleeve, feeling very stupid and now mortified by what he had done.

"I-I'm sorry, Monsieur Moreau. I didn't think you ever were coming back, so I~I overreacted, didn't I?" He tried to laugh to show that he knew he was a worthless petit bete, but it was such a broken sound that he could readily imagine the sneer he was receiving. Even if it did not appear on the handsome face, somehow, he was certain, it would be just beneath the surface. It was quite a struggle for the youth, but he found that he was bridling the rush of emotions now that he realized how he had humiliated himself once more before this man he held in such high regard.

"I guess a 'Welcome back' would have been better, right, sir?" Daring to raise his head, he tried to meet the man's eyes, which likely would be stormy. "A-are you back to stay? (pause) Are you~um~still teaching?" he asked positively meekly, knowing that the man could hear the begging in those words.

About now, he fervently wished that he could rewind about a half hour and give this all another try~this time knowing that at least one seemingly impossible dream could come true.

OOC: *sigh* Once more, Easy humiliates himself. So, what's new?! Poor Lazare... BIC:

[Why So Silent]

OOC: I dunno if Easy has heard his master's voice post-surgery!!BIC:

Lazare Moreau

Looking back on the situation, Lazare would berate himself for not quelling his ego and being the one to leave the area, instead of trying to force out who he claimed was the 'intruder' in his afternoon revere. Hindsight was 20/20, however, and the current situation was one in which Lazare did not have the luxury to sit and ponder on, specifically because the young man was once again the trembling, meek kitten the Chorus Master had tried to teach him not to be, and was thusly wasting even more of the man's time.

"I~um~was working," he began, and Lazare's face grimaced at the stuttering. It seemed that, in his absence, Easy had picked up bad habits. Again. "in the stalls and..." The next lesson, if the Frenchman decided he would allow another one, would be on assertiveness. Just thought I'd get in some practice and..." It dawned on the youth exactly to whom he was speaking, and so he proceeded to finalize his 'speech' with a simple "I..." that hung in the air between the two, at least until Easy dove into a neighboring stall.

The dark haired man was nothing if not aghast. What horrid luck, finding my least favorite student. With all his simpering, you'd think he'd have retained his speech lessons. Gibbering and quivering like that... and diving on that violin? What a little beast... Lazare did not have too much time to dwell on his jittery student, as the person in question sprang from his location in the stall, this time with a shirt and a little more dignity in his phrase, though not much...

"Monsieur Lazare! I... You..." The Chorus Master rolled his eyes skyward, not generally a practice of his to call on a god to aid him in trying times such as these, but it was what the boy drove him to. Unfortunately for him, this distraction of gaze caused him to be quite startled as the younger man grabbed him by the waste, almost sobbing. How familiar... Lazare grumbled to himself, wondering what to do with his hands as Easy clung there, mumbling "You're back! You're back! You're back!" in quite a way that made the man almost worried he'd be forced to take some kind of preventative action for the boy's well being.

And then, a moment later, Easy stepped back, his face as red as a tomato, once again the cowardly alley cat. "I-I'm sorry, Monsieur Moreau. I didn't think you ever were coming back, so I~I overreacted, didn't I?" Well, at least he remembered to be polite. "I guess a 'Welcome back' would have been better, right, sir?" The young man finally dared to look him in the face, which Lazare had kept passive. He'd already revealed too many emotions to his student, once when the young man had visited him in his home. Not a very good day, that; even worse than today. "A-are you back to stay?" The pause was loaded with humility, and an obvious yearning for an answer. "Are you~um~still teaching?"

Lazare had taken on Easy back when he had still had problems with his health and throat. He wouldn't necessarily call himself a 'different man' now, but much of his bitterness and cynicism had dissipated after the surgery on his vocal chords. "It seems you've already found another instrument to dedicate your time on, and as such it seems as though lessons from myself would be rather inconsequential to you." Of course, not all of the sarcasm and dry wit had left the man... "Your regressions in training are also rather obvious," he commented, brushing the newly formed creases from his slacks as he hung his jacket over one of the stall doors. "What was that stuttering all about; it's as if I didn't teach you anything."

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: I certainly I have more luck with this post! The last three I tried writing were zapped!!! I finally restarted my laptop in hopes of banishing whatever bad spirits were causing my posts to cease to be. So, here I go again! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had expected the man to dismiss him, whether by disdainful look or simply stalking off, once more vanishing from his lonely life. That would be the worst: silence and dismissal, banishment from the man's presence. Still, knowing that Lazare was back at the Opera House should be reassuring, shouldn't it~the idea that he might see him if even from a distance? Now that he realized how deeply he had humiliated himself, Easy yet again wished for that rewind but steeled himself for the repercussions of his foolishness. His hands clasped behind him, he actually held his breath while awaiting that oh so valued response.

"It seems you've already found another instrument to dedicate your time on, and as such it seems as though lessons from myself would be rather inconsequential to you." His head jerking up, the youth gasped in dismay, his eyes wide, shaking his head "no" but holding his tongue for the moment. After all, he had made no secret of his violin lessons before. Perhaps it was that Moreau simply was not interested in him to the point that he registered no information about his student beyond what was necessary for him to know for classes. "Your regressions in training are also rather obvious," he said in his dry, lecturing tone as he tidied his clothing. Easy's lips trembled as he tried very hard not to smile, his head once more bowed in an effort to hide the pleasure he was taking in being reprimanded. Odd sensations were growing within: anticipation, excitement, exhaltation~even joy! "What was that stuttering all about; it's as if I didn't teach you anything." At some point it dawned on the youth that something was very different about Lazare though he at first had thought his memories were in error, that so much time had passed that he had forgotten. The voice was different, richer and more vital than before, delightfully so.

Easy tried to stop the giggle, but a bit of it escaped before he could clamp down on it. For some reason, harsh words in this melodious voice were like a caress from his stern teacher, as if he could slip into a comfortable groove once more. There was a softness to the sound that made his heart race, and he wanted to hear more, whatever the words would be.

Peering up, he smiled sweetly and, speaking more carefully than he had for what seemed too long a time, he said, "I apologize, Monsieur Moreau. I..." He sighed because got sloppy did not seem to be the correct response. "I did backslide," he admitted. "I~um~had some problems in my life." At that, the smile faded, the tawny gaze lifted to Moreau's dark gaze as he confessed, "My roommates have left~both of them~and I was~I was alone." He heard the tremor in his voice but managed to calm himself with a deep breath. "Then, they said you had left. You just~left." He knew the pain could not be concealed. "I~I didn't know what to do. I stopped taking lessons, and I thought about going back to California. I thought you were never coming back. I didn't know anyone to ask. They put me in the orchestra. Th-they think I'm good. But, I think I want to be on stage. I want to sing. But..." He paused, biting at his lower lip. "I stopped singing when you left. I stopped wanting to do most everything. Please, Monsieur Moreau, please let me be your student again. I'll try harder. I'll learn to talk better. I promise. I~I can pay you more." If the man accepted, he would be paying more than double for lessons, as he feared breaking off from his other voice teacher so soon. Worry about that later, like that lady in that long movie! he spat scornfully, willing to dig himself deeply into debt to his "owners" if only Lazare would be part of his life again. "Anything," he murmured, his intense gaze revealing far too much of what he was feeling. "I can change," he promised fervently. "Please help me change."

[witch]

OCC: For Cara and Evrard
Cara Blaze Andovea (http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j32/witch016/clothes/dresses/z134525.jpg)

Another year older another year wiser though Cara still couldn't fingure out why Evrard had asked her to meet him at the stables. Sure Cara loved stables, when they were filled with horses.

Yes she had come down to the Opera House Stables quite a few times in her years, to dream of once upon a time long ago and draw or just get away swear she could still smell the scent that only came from horses.

It was her brithday and with Mark working til late Cara had been all to happy when her patron had asked her to meet up with him. Cara had thought she had misheard her friend when they had talked she still having doubts about her birthday amoung other things but seeing the smile on her daughter's face helped her to get in a better mood.

So here she was her hands running over the empty stall doors thinking of the horse she had lost long ago.

"I miss you, my friend" she whispered brushing away a tear that rolled to her face as she thought about her white four legged friend. "It just seems so empty in here without the sound of hooves and rushing footsteeps."

Speaking of footsteeps, she thought she heard some coming.

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin (http://static1.purepeople.com/articles/2/14/51/2/@/69282-lambert-wilson-et-pascal-elbe-637x0-1.jpg)

Today had finally arrived. Evrard had virtually been planning this in the back of his mind for months. It had only come to fruition a few days ago and he was, in a way, excited. He wasn't excited about the purchase itself; rather, he was excited about Cara's reaction. Some time ago, he had asked her what made her happy, what she liked to do. She had listed off a few things and to his delight, they were very easily manageable. Skating was easy. He knew of an ice arena that he could take her to, but it didn't seem like it would be enough so he set that thought aside. Of the activities she mentioned, one had stood out to him as the best idea.

Evrard rubbed his hands as he started down the steps toward the stables, where he told Cara to meet him. With a smile, he had not told her why. Was she there already? He glanced at his watch. It was possible, but that was all right. Everything was already set up for her small surprise. Actually, it was far from "small." He hoped she'd like it.

The familiar stench of the stables rose to his nose and and waved it off. This was a smell he was going to have to get used to now. Perhaps he shouldn't have worn his pinstripe jacket today. It was his own fault, really, but it would be worth it. At least, he hoped it would be worth it. Cara should be worth it. She was so innocent - to the point of foolishness. But he found that it was this innocence that drew him to her. Perhaps it was the desire to protect her that aided this connection. She was so small, so frail. So delicate. It was a wonder she had made it this far, considering the often life-threatening ordeals she had been through.

He had reached the bottom. Across from the stairs, he saw Cara, dressed simply and elegantly in silver. "Cara," he called to her happily, a wide, pleasant grin on his face. "I'm so happy you could make it." He clapped his hands together and looked down the length of the stables. They were all empty. Well, as far as anyone else knew, the stables were empty. Breathing in with bright vigor, he looked back at Cara. "How are you - well, I hope?" With expert constraint, he hid his eagerness to show her her present. Build the suspense for greatest effect.

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

Remembering her long lost friend Cara couldn't but but think of how happy she would have been here in these stables. Cara could just picture her horses head hunging over the stall door every morning and night in greeting waiting for the treats that she knew were in her friends pocket.

Cara never thought or felt herself the owner/master of her four legged horse, they were friends plan and simple. She had only ever shut her inside when it was really bad weather (Winter) otherwise Cara loved to see her friend running free kicking up the snow and sometimes catching it on her tounge like a human.

"My best friend in the whole world" she stated as she turned to the sound of footsteeps.

"Cara," The voice seemed to come out so happily from the well dressed form of her friend and patron. "I'm so happy you could make it."

"And why would I, I like seeing you and I missed you at Christmas"

Which reminded her of the small gift she had for him tucked away in the folds of her dress ribbion.

"How are you - well, I hope?"

For a moment Cara bite at her bottem lip she hadn't told Evrard about Mark's return or that she was once again with child, she had wanted to keep that to herself to get a handle on her life again in it's ever seeming to change form.

"I am, thank you for asking I still feel a little weak but I feel that I am getting stronger and you Evrard, please, tell me how are you doing?"

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

The suspense was already killing him. And he wasn't even the one recieving the gift! God, he felt like a little boy again, trying to maintain composure about some fantastic secret he'd been privy to. Evrard could not get over how well he'd been able to pull it off either. It had only required two or three phone calls and the trust of some working men to help him prepare Cara's present. If only Cara knew how close she was to her present... Wait! He couldn't tell her - or show her - yet. It would ruin the building surprise. Wait for the climax. It would pay off soon enough. Patience is a virtue... He was anxious to see her reaction, but for now, he would have to wait.

"I am, thank you for asking I still feel a little weak but I feel that I am getting stronger and you Evrard, please, tell me how are you doing?" Evrard smiled, maintaining a relaxed, inconspicuous demeanor. Any show of anxiety would give it away... So engage in this small talk. Make the seconds tick by and wait... For one, he was glad to hear that she was feeling stronger. That was a good sign. He'd been pleased with her progress on the opera stage. Her private instructor had told him that she was improving very well, although she was still a little weak. It would take time. Evrard was simply glad that nothing dramatic or terrible had happened thus far.

"I am well." He waved it off with a smile. "But we're not here to talk about me, Cara. This is your day." He approached her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, looking down at her with genuine pleasure. Evrard smiled down at her chocolate brown eyes and youthful appearance. She was a mother, yet she was still so young. She hadn't completely lost her innocent glow. For this he was glad. That innocence was something that Evrard remembered from their very first encounter with each other. "So!" He slid his hand away from her shoulder and clapped his hands together. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to meet me down here, hm?" The breathy playfulness of his voice surprised even himself. He surely was excited, wasn't he? "During our last visit, when I came over to your home, I asked you what you liked to do - for fun, Cara. Please remind an old man, what did you say when I asked you that?" Increase the suspense. Make it deliciously, tortuously longer.

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

Drama, drama, drama. Somehow Cara couldn't help but feel it building, maybe it was the way Evrard spoke or the way he stood or maybe, just maybe it was that smile that had changed from charming to secret along with the twinkle in his eyes.

It was like some sort of game, but Cara wasn't one for pushing and so simply answered her friends questions about her health saying she was getting stronger to then think it only right to ask him how he was.

"I am well."

And to this Cara smiled for it seemed it was all she was going to get out of her friend and secound father. He the man of little words less it be something that needed drilling into the mind.

"But we're not here to talk about me, Cara. This is your day."

Unknown to him Cara was both confoused and shocked by his actions and words. Evrard wasn't a very hands on man Cara had learnt and so to have him smiling down at her with a soft hand on her shoulder... it confermed that he was up to something.

"So!" The clapping action giving himself away even more, it there was one thing Evrard was it was patient though now...

"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to meet me down here, hm?"

"You could say that, not that I don't like it down here it just seems so empty though."

"During our last visit, when I came over to your home, I asked you what you liked to do - for fun, Cara. Please remind an old man, what did you say when I asked you that?"

"Evrard please, you aren't old, your young and full of life and you've never needed reminding about anything but I shall play along with what ever game you're playing. I told you that I used to skate on the ice back home, when I wasn't riding with my friend. I told you that riding made me feel like I had wings, that I was free and that all the troubles in the world just melted away..." She trailed off here a sad little look crossing over her face. "I also told you that I could no longer do that, not unless I got my own horse and I told you that I didn't have the money and I refuse to ask anyone for it."

Wanting to take her mind of her lost friend she dug into her belt and pulled out Evrard's late Christmas gift.

"I know you said this day is about me but please, let me make it about you, at least for a moment"

And with that said she handed him his gift.

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

Evrard kept his hands together and maintained the smile on his face with ease. That familiar uplifting feeling that accompanies excitement filled his chest as he looked down at Cara. The dramatic irony of her position helped elevate his mood. His gift for her was less than less 20 meters from where they both stood. In a few minutes, he would finally reveal it to her. And at least he'd gotten used to the smell at this point.

"Evrard please, you aren't old, your young and full of life and you've never needed reminding about anything but I shall play along with what ever game you're playing. He laughed heartily, pleased by her flattery and by her aquiescence. "I told you that I used to skate on the ice back home, when I wasn't riding with my friend. I told you that riding made me feel like I had wings, that I was free and that all the troubles in the world just melted away..." Evrard couldn't help noticing the moment of sadness that crossed her smooth, innocent features, making him swallow and crease his brow for a moment. He licked his lips and lifted the corner of his mouth in a reassuring smile. His gift wouldn't cure her unhappiness, but he hoped it would take away at least some of the pain. "I also told you that I could no longer do that, not unless I got my own horse and I told you that I didn't have the money and I refuse to ask anyone for it."

His smile widened jovially. You didn't have to ask, Cara... Her humility and kindness made this gift all the more pleasurable to give. She deserved it. Of all the gifts he had given in his lifetime - there have been many - Cara's was one of the most deserved. Her life was not ideal and she was often frail and unwell, but she was strong enough to get this far. She was young and yet she had already experienced so much. But she still had much to learn. Evrard hoped his gift to her would help ease her troubles, give her a moment of happiness in her otherwise often dreary life.

Cara then took something from beneath the silver band around her waist, much to Evrard's surprise. He raised a brow as she held it out to him. "I know you said this day is about me but please, let me make it about you, at least for a moment." He inhaled and was speechless for a moment. She was giving a gift to him? It was so unexpected, it took Evrard off guard for a second. "Cara..." he said almost breathlessly. He took it gently from her hand. It was a dark analog watch and it looked none too cheap. She had taken the time and spent the money for him? "Thank you. You-" He lifted the watch and looked at her with admiration and enjoyment. "You are too good, Cara. Do you realize that?" With the watch still in hand, he stepped forward and placed his hands softly on each side of her upper arms and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. It was appropriate, non? If he hadn't felt so thrilled, he wouldn't have gone so far as to kiss her head. He knew that the most physical affection he had ever shown her was a hug. However, it simply felt suitable for the moment.

Evrard drew back and looked down at his hand, taking off his watch and replacing it with Cara's. He took a moment to admire it on his wrist before smiling over at her and placing his arm behind her shoulder. "Now, follow me." He gently nudged her in the right direction, keeping his hand on her shoulder as he led her towards the back of the stables. "Wait here and close your eyes." With a glance at her, he walked to another part of the stables, slightly hidden and remote. He had used the help of a stable worker - and the permission of the management - to store the gift here. "Shh," he hushed the large animal and stroked its face before leading it out by the reigns. The saddle was already prepared - that was done by the stable worker. Evrard knew nothing of these things. As he walked back to Cara, he could feel his heart beat in anticipation of Cara's - hopefully positive - reaction. He and the gift finally came into view.

"You may open your eyes now, Cara. Happy birthday."

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

There was something to be said about Evrard, he only ever revealed very little that being the little that he needed to get the job done. He made sure to sway Cara away from himself and back to her and if she wasn't careful she would have gone along with it.

Instead she went along with what ever game he was playing seeing the smile on his face at her words about him being old. Sure he was older then herself and her husband but age... Evrard was wise beyond his years and though he sometime drove Cara nuts she saw the reason in every word he spoke. This could only come with the years he had. He was still handsome in his own way and she knew him to make female heads turn. Old... no he wasn't old.

As she spoke of her gentle reminder she closely watched his face though sadness came over her own as she voiced the lost feeling of sadness at losing her closet childhood friend. She watched the smile that grew on his lips and wondered though she put it aside instead turning the tables back on him and handing him her gift.

He seemed off guard but surly he knew her by now, she hated showing up empty handed when meeting a friend and she had not seen Evrard for Christmas so surly he knew this was coming.

"Cara..." he breathed making Cara bite her bottom lip.

She hadn't really known what to get her friend and prayed that he liked it. She had saved and thought and hoped finally thinking the watch was perfect for him.

"Thank you. You-"

Waiting with baited breath she watched as he opened the gift his eyes falling onto it. She watched the look on his face and smiled, seeing that her praying hadn't been wasted.

"You are too good, Cara. Do you realize that?"

"I..." she started but was quickly stopped.

When his hands took hold of her arms and a gentle kiss was placed on her forehead she was a little taken back but touched. He had never shown her such affect affection and to her it was a most valued gift.

For a moment or two they both seemed to stand in stunned silence until Cara finally felt Evrard's hand travel to her shoulder.

"Now, follow me."

Saying nothing she only followed feeling the warmth from her friends hand leading her before stopping in what seemed like a truly empty part of the stables.

"Wait here and close your eyes."

Raising a split brow in question she quickly did as she was told straining to hear the word around her to give her a clue. She felt alone but knew that at least this time she wouldn't be left in the darkness.

"You may open your eyes now, Cara. Happy birthday."

Slowly she opened them, only to think herself dreaming. Closing them again she opened them but still the four legged truly white horse was there. Cara's heart stopped as did her breathing, tears of shear disbelief filled her eyes.

"Evrard I..."

But then a sadness dawned on her, she could not keep this gift, it was far to much and she'd hate herself if it put Evrard in money trouble.

"I can't... it's to much. I thank you most strongly and from the bottom of my heart really but..."

She dared reached out and touched the soft velvet of the horses noise. Tears came to her eyes and the brown eyes of the animal met her own.

"Your are so breath taking but... I'm sorry I can not keep you."

The very words broke her heart.

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

The horse tugged on the reins slightly. Fortunately, the animal was fairly calm and well trained. Evrard had done his research and had called a favor or two to make sure he got a magnificent specimen of a horse. Well, the horse wasn't precisely the best money could buy, but it was a good size, breed and very healthy. It was a pretty hefty sum, but it wasn't too large a problem. A little bargaining lowered the price significantly.

He was beaming, but the sudden look in Cara's eyes troubled him. "Evrard I..." He maintained a smile. Yes?

"I can't... it's to much. I thank you most strongly and from the bottom of my heart really but..." The smile faded and he was a little taken aback. After all he went through to get this horse, she was going to refuse it? He knew she was refusing it out of humility, but it was unacceptable. He would not allow it.

He was speechless for a moment as she approached the horse and petted it with apparent emotional pain. He only watched her as she stroked the animal's nose and tears welled in her eyes. No, she had to take it. Evrard knew that defeated the purpose of a "gift," but there was no other reasonable option. It was all right. She simply needed a little persuading. There was no way he would let her not have this horse.

"Cara, you don't have to be so humble all the time." The horse made to move away, but Evrard pulled him back. "Look at him. You can not keep denying yourself the things you want in life. If anyone in the world deserved happiness, it would be you, Cara. You have lost and given up so much. Let me - let him, " Evrard gestured to the horse, "make it up to you. And you don't have to worry about housing him or paying for him. I have it all under control. You know I have the means to do this or else I would not have done it."

Evrard pulled the reins forward so that the horse's head confronted Cara's. He encouragingly stroked the side of the horse's smooth head. He knew he was getting worked up over this, but he couldn't help himself. "I know I risk sounding petulant, but I will not take 'no' for an answer, mademoiselle Andovea." He smiled over at her with a playfully patronizing tone. "He is yours."

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

Looking into the eyes of a horse was to know yourself, to know your spirit, theirs it was truly an amazing thing to be a part of. Upon seeing the horse and finding out he was meant to be a gift a whole host of feelings watched over the ever changing face of Miss Cara Blaze Andovea.

She wanted the horse, there were no two ways about that but wanting and having were two very different things and upon remembering herself Cara simply broken heart finally spoke the refusal.

she watched as her patrons face feel this adding to the heartache that all ready over ran her heart.

"Cara, you don't have to be so humble all the time."

"Humble?" Cara questioned in her soft voice she hardly thought herself as being humble. Could he not see that in this one gift her offered her the word, a part of her childhood back and a freedom that could never be put into words? Humble no, she wasn't being humble she could just never pay him back.

"Look at him."

She did, the tears rolling from her eyes.

"You can not keep denying yourself the things you want in life. If anyone in the world deserved happiness, it would be you, Cara. You have lost and given up so much. Let me - let him, "

Cara opened her mouth the protest upon her friends words. She had given up more more then anyone else. Death was a part of life... okay so in her life it seemed to be a HUGE part but still.

"make it up to you. And you don't have to worry about housing him or paying for him. I have it all under control. You know I have the means to do this or else I would not have done it."

"That's not the point. Can't you see that I simply..."

Her words were stopped as Evrard pulled the horses head closer his warm breath playing upon her face.

"I know I risk sounding petulant, but I will not take 'no' for an answer, mademoiselle Andovea. He is yours."

"Can't you see it's to much? I would take something smaller at least then I might think it fair but this. I could never pay you back for this and happiness, I am happy... most of the time and money I know you say it's not about that but... I know how much a dollar costs. Please if nothing else tell me what I can grant you in return and don't say nothing, I would give you my house... if it were mine to give but all I have to offer is myself and that's not worth much."

[A_Single_Rose]

Evrard Ludovic-Marcellin

Cara was refusing the gift. Evrard couldn't wrap his head around it. After all this trouble he had gone through - picking the horse, buying the horse, renting a stable, securing food supply - Cara refused to take the horse. Of course, there were a hundred reasons why she wouldn't take the horse - most of which were simply a mystery to him. Did she think she did not deserve this horse? Evrard remembered to the last time they had met. They sat at her dining room table, eating lunch, discussing life and the past, present, and future. Evrard was no detective. He was no psychologist. He didn't need to be to know that Cara needed something from her past life. She needed something substantial and supportive to lift her spirits. That horse of hers that she had talked about - she was obviously very attached to it. So Evrard was giving her a piece of her life back.

She was adamant. "Can't you see it's to much? I would take something smaller at least then I might think it fair but this. I could never pay you back for this and happiness, I am happy... most of the time and money I know you say it's not about that but... I know how much a dollar costs. Please if nothing else tell me what I can grant you in return and don't say nothing, I would give you my house... if it were mine to give but all I have to offer is myself and that's not worth much."

Evrard only watched her for a long moment, looking her over. In all honesty, he did not know what to say. What could he say to her? How could he get her to see that she did not need to do anything in return? Cara claimed she was happy… “most of the time.” Tears streamed from her large, sorrowful eyes. It made him ache, seeing her unhappy. It seemed like an irrational sort of aching, but he felt it nonetheless. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t formed something of a “soft spot” for Cara, the daughter he never had. As he looked at her, he couldn’t help thinking she was like a little fawn, so often helpless and soft and in constant danger. He smiled to himself as he made this comparison. How quaint.

“Cara, I don’t want your house,” he said with an uplifting smile. “You know, ma bichette, you have already given me quite a bit – and you haven’t even realized it.” He continued to smile as he handed the reins over to her, physically pulling her hand up and wrapping her fingers around the reins. He let go and patted the horse on the neck. “These past few years, you have taught me lessons in humility, kindness and generosity, and patience, Cara. You cannot put a price on that. So I am the one repaying the debt.” He walked closer so that he was almost looking directly down at her. With a smile, he placed one hand on her shoulder. “And that is the end of the discussion. The horse is yours. You will not regret it. I guarantee it.”

[witch]

Cara Blaze Andovea

A sea of feelings were floating around inside Cara one moment she wanted to take the horse and run, be greedy and say to herself that she had earned it to give in to Evrard's words and the other... well it was more Cara, the one that every knew, the one that could never take such a gift without feeling guilt and that she didn't deserve it.

She tried to explain what she was feeling, that it was to much that she'd never be able to repay his kindness and it would make her heart eat away at itself when ever she saw the horse. She just couldn't shake the image of Evrard someday finding out that the money he had spent (would spend) on this horse could have saved his life somewhere down the line. She couldn't help but remember her life when her mother was alive. Cara had almost lived on the streets with sending all her money back home praying to at least give her mother a life.

“Cara, I don’t want your house,”

Something she would have offered in exchange if it was hers to give.

“You know, ma bichette, you have already given me quite a bit – and you haven’t even realized it.”

Now a look of question racked through her face as she tried to come up with what Evrard could be talking about. She had given him nothing, aside from herself in every way she could whilst being with Mark. Okay Evrard had wanted her to give up her husband but she hadn't done that so what else had she given her friend other then a headache?

She was about to question this when Evrard took up her hand and placed the reins of the horse in it.

“These past few years, you have taught me lessons in humility, kindness and generosity, and patience, Cara. You cannot put a price on that. So I am the one repaying the debt.”

More tears formed in Cara's eyes, she had taught him all that? Someone she couldn't believe it but with his hand on her shoulder and the smile on his face Cara couldn't very well debate it.

“And that is the end of the discussion. The horse is yours. You will not regret it. I guarantee it.”

A tiny smile spreed across Cara's lips and reaching upwards she planted a kiss on her friends cheek.

"I don't know how I have taught you all that, or even if you're telling me the truth but... if I have and you believe it so. I would think it's a fair exchange."

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: This is for Easy and Madeleine. Oh my... BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner (http://i85.photobucket.com/albums/k76/cynsemele/CATALIKES%202/ANIMECAT10-1.jpg)

Breaktime! Easy stood up from his chore of spreading fresh straw over straightened-up bricks, arching his back and stretching his arms above him in a feline stretch meant to work out the kinks that had developed in muscles unaccustomed to crawling about on the floor. Dancing was one thing, and many hours of violin practice and performance led to different aches and pains. It was his own fault for not keeping up with this particular project. The three stalls weren't in too shabby a shape, but seasonal changes could undo some basics. He had done some polishing~touching up paint, reinforcing the gates, smoothing the passage between each stall to avoid the unpleasant splinter experience again.

Taking a break was absolutely necessary, he decided, as he unbuttoned the black silk shirt he wore with the snug, black jeans. He wore nothing underneath because he hadn't exactly meant to do this. He had set his mind to heading for someplace like La Valhalla and doing his best to be picked up. But, something had changed his path, and he had wandered to the stables. They held a mixture of memories, including his first meeting with Lilith Eytinge and that rainy night adventure with Iah Raksha. Begrudgingly, he admitted that he could invite his son, Eden, to spend a summer night or two here, roofing the stalls with the patchwork tent he had created, Iah having taken the one they had used, the one that had been a home for him after Rafe Chancery and Jamil Mehmet had left him behind in Paris. Iah had invited him to stay with him. If not for that, he wouldn't have met Lazare Moreau and rashly asked for voice lessons. So much had happened, and it should have made him happy~at least some of it~shouldn't it? As the thoughts tumbled through his mind, he bent down to open the black canvas satchel that held bottles of water and two candy bars, his concession to food without actually eating food-food. Pushing open the gate to the stall he had been working in, he leaned against the wall of the enclosure, slaking his thirst, draining about half the bottle before giving into the sudden impulse to douse himself with the still-cool remainder, wetting down his ebony hair, the water trailing down his face and upper body. He sighed because it was heaven on his bare chest, and he didn't mind how the silk clung to him. Yes, he'd have to redo some work where he was standing, but it was worth it. He closed his eyes, letting the bottle drop from his hand, raising his arms to run his fingers through his dampened hair, grinning crookedly at the mental picture of himself.

Wet and feeling sensually sexual, he was all alone in this place though he knew of lovers who searched out secret places for a tryst. There would be no one for him, even if he had gone to La Valhalla.

OOC: The outfit is approximate, with less hair length and no elfin ears of course. BIC:

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon (http://www.askmen.com/women/galleries/actress/monica-bellucci/picture-2.html)

Madeleine hated men. No, really, she did. They were good for a very limited skill set. The rest of the time, they were moody and territorial and ill tempered. Or maybe that was just Ortiz. Mr. I-Claim-the-Roof-for-the-Y-Chromosome. Seriously. What gave him and MaCarthy the right to smoke up there and then turn her away during lunch break? She could smoke where she damn well pleased. Also, she could probably outsmoke him. Probably. Maybe. Anyways. He’d shooed her from the rooftop because he didn’t want to smoke with her and clearly the roof wasn’t big enough for the two of them. Santiago Ortiz had won the battle, but Madeleine decided to let the stage manager think he won the war. She could smoke under the opera house and no one could stop her. No man. No way. It would be a good break; she’d come back relaxed and happy. She would stake out down herself Queen of the Dungeons. And it would be awesome. Madeleine often thought herself a genius. Not a mathematical intellectual or anything, but a bona-fide problem solver. She could wriggle around the rules like nobody’s business. It was probably the only reason no one could find reason to fire her.

It was with this renewed sense of smugness that led Madeleine deeper and deeper through the caverns under the opera. She could use her genius to maneuver around here and maybe even make a discovery or two. Not that spelunkers hadn’t probably already exhausted the Populaire’s caverns. But “discovery” was relative, wasn’t it? And this was new, slightly uncharted territory for Madeleine. The only other time she’d been under here, it had been with Santiago Ortiz (whom she was still mad at) and Rachel Day (who had gallivanted to New York City for a dream career without so much as a by-your-leave), looking for Myron (her Houdini-esque semi-fiancé). That had been such fun. Smugness could easily give way to bitterness. Madeleine didn’t like it one bit. She veered in the opposite direction from the one she grudgingly knew, as if it would banish the memories of her failed friendships and relationship. As if it would get rid of the burn behind her eyes. As if she wouldn’t get hopelessly lost. Of course, she couldn’t just forget the last year of her life. Of course the stinging wouldn’t go away. And of course, Madeleine got lost. So much for genius.

Half an hour later, a frustrated and tired Madeleine finally saw a speck of light up some stairs ahead. She rushed towards it, expecting the stairs to lead back to civilization. Instead, they brought her to a room filled with straw that smelled vaguely of horse sh*t. Madeleine wrinkled her nose and looked around in disgust. The place was in a half-state of repair; probably a project the patrons stopped funding when they made budget cuts. And worse than that, there was probably no way out. She growled kicked a nearby stall until her callused toes probably split and bled. So much for Queen of the Dungeons.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

In the midst of his reverie about trysts in stables and just about to envision who it was he would be entwined with, a loud thumping sounded, causing him to figuratively jump out of his skin, his heart racing wildly as he was thrown back into reality, opening his eyes to his surroundings once more. He wasn't certain what the commotion was about, but it certainly did not sound in the least romantic unless it was someone having frantic sex. For some reason, that image produced a bark of laughter as he went to investigate, thinking that this had become a day of satisfying his curiosity.

It wasn't as if this had to be narrowed down. The sounds brought him quickly to the source, and he was quite astonished upon discovering that the disturbance originated with a very familiar face and form, the third time he had come face-to-face with Mademoiselle Cougar Lady aka Madeleine. The last time they had met had been in the curtains, where she had played a guessing game with him, turning positively icy when she had seen him, quite different from their first very close encounter at Nothing Special.

"Madeleine?!" was all he could think to say. For all he knew, she would retreat as speedily as before, treating him like a stranger. "Are you OK?" Was he doomed to encounter stressed females? This wasn't how he would have pictured their reunion. Actually, he hadn't pictured it, figuring that she had had him and was through with him, something he had experienced more often than he liked to think about.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine, in the back of her mind, knew she wasn’t doomed to die down here. But right now, she wasn’t thinking very logically. Instead, she was busy pitying herself and hating the people she blamed for her newfound plight: Ortiz, mostly, but also anyone else who had ever suggested that beneath the Opera Populaire was a very good place for a smoke. Seriously? Why had she taken any advice? Why hadn’t she just blown a smoke ring in the stage manager’s face and climbed onto the statue, up out of his way and even higher above the Parisian skyline? Why hadn’t she gone to the courtyards or ignored the “No Smoking” signs, like she usually did? Why—

Why was someone laughing over there?

A traditional, solitary woman in unfamiliar territory would worry about things like rapists, hobos, and murderers. A more imaginative one would dream up ghosts and zombies. Madeleine, though, was getting a very clear mental picture of Bill MaCarthy, also avoiding Ortiz, and ready to make lighthearted fun at her. And while the thought didn’t terrify her, it wasn’t welcome, either. He was, after all, still able to report her for playing hooky. Instead, it was a different, but equally familiar young man who emerged from the stable stalls. Easy Cat Tanner came around the corner, pretty much naked—okay, okay, half naked—and wide-eyed. Immediately, she sucked the frustrated tears back into her head and plastered on a crocodilian grin that hopefully said something like: “Nothing to see here, folks!”

"Madeleine?!" he said. "Are you OK?"

“Oh, I’m spectacular, Cubbie,” she said, still grinning stupidly. “Just… Y’know…. Exploring.”

Lying wasn’t a crime. Technically, it wasn’t even lying. She had been exploring until she got lost. And even then, trying to find a way out was—for all intents and purposes—a form of exploring. Madeleine the Genius was back. After all, she couldn’t be too careful with this kid. She’d made the mistake of seducing him over a year ago and still—still!—he remembered her. She’d either been a really good lay or he’d been much, much more sober than she’d thought. In any case, her past—ahem—indiscretions getting out would probably kill what small, good reputation she had around the Populaire. And, undoubtedly, there would be someone of influence who’d pounce on the chance to see her go.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, looking around. “Why on earth are you down here?”

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy wasn't certain if he was going to be ignored or scolded, and he still was uncertain as she grinned at him and assured him, "Oh, I’m spectacular, Cubbie." At the memory of the nickname, he smiled tentatively. She didn't sound angry or all that upset. Could she be pleased to see him or at least not bent out of shape as she had been during that backstage meeting~at least when he had come face-to-face with her? "Just… Y’know…. Exploring," she explained, which caused his eyebrows to rise in an expression mixing question and surprise. "I could ask you the same thing." As she looked around, so did he, seeing the shoddiness of this uncared-for section. "Why on earth are you down here?"

"Can you keep a secret?" he began, grinning mischievously. "Yeah. I guess you can. So can I. But, I'll share this. Follow me," he instructed, turning to retrace his steps to the first stall, its door still open. In it was a platform of bricks at the center along the right side on which sat the cooking stove (http://www.coleman.com/coleman/images/products/2000004500_500.jpg) that would someday be put to use again and against the back wall, a blanket-covered object. Wading through the straw, he removed the black-and-tan blanket to reveal a travel trunk (http://images.hayneedle.com/mgen/master:BCU006.jpg?is=630,630,0xffffff). Kneeling in front of it, he opened the lid and beckoned her to come see. Inside was a sleeping bag rolled up, two nightshirts like the ones he was introduced to by Iah, and a folded-down patchwork that could serve as a roof for the stall when unfurled. Smiling shyly, feeling suddenly bashful and thinking that now she would laugh at him, he confessed, "I started fixin' one stall~this one, then I did two more. It's like a~a hiding place I guess. I call 'em lairs." He moved to where he could sit with his back against that far wall. "In the next one over, I have a boxful of other stuff. Nobody's said anything about it since I started doin' this a couple of years ago. I~I just about always did this~since I was a real little kid~find places to hide, places I could make my own." The tawny eyes studied her, wondering what she must make of him, supposing that she would be taking off at any moment thinking she'd wasted enough time with him. After all, wasn't that what a one-night stand was all about? He should know. He was an expert on them. "I have that place at Nothing Special, this and a couple of others so far. I learned real early to have a fall-back place." He looked around himself at the work he had accomplished. "Someday, somebody's gonna decide to~um~renovate this place, and they're gonna gut this." Shrugging and giving her that crooked grin, he tried to joke it off. "So, I'll just find another spot. Paris has got to have plenty of 'em. Alleycats are good at finding nooks and crannies." He giggled at the words. "Sounds kinda dirty, doesn't it?"

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon
In her past experience with Cubbie, he was the most distracted human being ever. They’d been about to make love and he’d jumped up off of her about a zillion times to “set the mood” when all she had really wanted was to shag his brains out and feel better about her sex life. Taking the focus off of herself was a little uncharacteristic for Madeleine the Attention Whore, but total Genius. It didn’t take long for the boy to ask: "Can you keep a secret?" with a devilish grin. Madeleine hesitated, about to wave the question off with a laugh, but he answered for her.

"Yeah. I guess you can. So can I. But, I'll share this. Follow me."

Curious, probably more curious than she ought to be, Madeleine did as instructed. She wasn’t used to forcefulness coming from him. Her little Cougar Cub was growing up. Her lips twitched into an amused, mock-affectionate smile at the thought and then peered into the stall door Easy had led her to. Like his homey set up in the motel, this, too was a surprise. There was a stove and blankets and bricks; it looked like a hobo camp or something, but better. Madeleine lowered her eyelids instinctively, trying to keep a cool, unaffected image, despite her confused awe. Easy made his way through the sea of straw and pulled back a blanket to reveal a trunk. He knelt, opened it, and waved Madeleine over. Intrigued, she walked to him and dropped to her knees as gracefully as she could when ankle deep in dusty straw. Inside the trunk was everything a camper would likely need: shirts, sleeping bags, a tarp. Madeleine considered sticking her hand in and running her inquiring fingers all over the stuff.

"I started fixin' one stall~this one, then I did two more,” Easy explained. “It's like a~a hiding place I guess. I call 'em lairs." He moved to where he could sit with his back against that far wall. "In the next one over, I have a boxful of other stuff. Nobody's said anything about it since I started doin' this a couple of years ago. I~I just about always did this~since I was a real little kid~find places to hide, places I could make my own."

It was a weird move, but justifiable. Madeleine thought back, briefly, to the nights she’d spent anywhere but her mother’s flat as a kid and teenager. She’d made do with dressing rooms and catwalks and friends’ houses then, in order to avoid her mother’s lovers. Her lips drew into a small “O”; a tiny crease formed between her eyebrows. You developed the wanderlust, the paranoia early. And if you didn’t break it, it stuck. Easy was smart not to break the habit, she thought. As an adult, she’d gotten sedentary, lazy. All she’d wanted was security and whenever she was stupid enough to put her faith in someone else, she was left to her own devices again. If she lost her apartment tomorrow, she’d have nowhere to go. Maybe Ashton’s or Aryeh’s; but neither would keep her for long term. Easy was smart to be his own best friend, his own caretaker… She suddenly thought that, maybe, she’d underestimated him a little. Not a lot, though. Madeleine wasn’t about to admit being really wrong.

"I have that place at Nothing Special, this and a couple of others so far. I learned real early to have a fall-back place." He looked around himself at the work he had accomplished. "Someday, somebody's gonna decide to~um~renovate this place, and they're gonna gut this." Shrugging and giving her that crooked grin, he tried to joke it off. "So, I'll just find another spot. Paris has got to have plenty of 'em. Alleycats are good at finding nooks and crannies." He giggled at the words. "Sounds kinda dirty, doesn't it?"

“Eh,” Madeleine said, disagreeing a little. “Dirty, yes, but it’s not a bad idea. Gotta do what feels good, kid.” She smirked a little. “You’d know all about that, though.”

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Easy had commanded and Madeleine followed, it had made him feel~different. It was like the time he had attacked Caden when he believed he had taken something from Lilith and made her cry; he actually had raised a hand in anger, striking what ultimately was a blow too weak, too ineffectual to cause any sort of damage. He rarely was anything but submissive, turning aggressive only in certain very intimate situations. This wasn't one of those, was it? He was merely showing his work to Madeleine~not showing off exactly, simply needing someone with whom to share his accomplishment. One thing he had become conscious of was how tiny she seemed to him though he had had a hint of that with the curtains game. At Nothing Special, he'd been rather a wobbly, skittish colt, so unlike the half-wild streetboy he had been not so many years ago. Was he too tame now? Is that why she had followed him here? She had even joined him near the trunk, and he wondered what she thought of all this. He knew his room above the bar had surprised her and perhaps pleased her, but she had never returned. Maybe that was the right way: once and forget him/her.

He had taken the risk to tell her about his hiding places, and he thought she looked interested, even intrigued. Or, maybe he simply wanted to see such responses. He had ended up with his lame joke about nooks and crannies, laughing self-consciously.

"Eh," she began, a syllable that gave him no clue. "Dirty, yes, but it’s not a bad idea." His smile was one filled with gratitude. "Gotta do what feels good, kid." Her offkilter smile teased his own lips into an echo. "You’d know all about that, though.

His smile wavered then, as he felt uncertain of what she meant. Perhaps it was only that she was acknowledging his nature. Feeling edgy and needing to do something with his hands, he reached into the trunk to lift out the handpieced canopy, spreading part of it over the trunk and the straw to display it. Now he was showing off, but he was proud of how he had used his Iah-taught skills.

"You think it's weird that I did this?" he wondered, his gaze appraising the surprisingly skillful working of brocades, tapestry blocks and trim in what he hoped was a pleasing pattern. "Iah taught me to do it when we were making his tent larger. Lily~um~Lilith~she taught me about sewing, too. She was a seamstress." Turning his eyes to Madeleine, he knew he could not hide the sadness. "They went away. They~l-loved me, but I couldn't love them back. I hurt them." Tears burned at his eyes, wanting to escape, but he refused to allow himself to give in. Reaching into the trunk once more, he quickly found what he needed, drawing out a silver flask, the cap of which could be used as a cup (http://www.bryandouglas.co.uk/silverware/flasks/2500a/2500ab.jpg) "Care to join me?" With his left hand, he patted the place next to him, hurrying to place the still partially folded canopy there. "Should've done that before I sat down," he admitted. Then, holding up the flask, he announced, "Pertsovka!", making it sound like a toast. "Remember? Strange American boy drinking Russian liquor in a seedy Parisian bar? Who could make up this stuff?!" He giggled, a giddy sound, suddenly wanting to be tipsy and kittenishly cuddly.

OOC: Here's an approximate of the canopy's appearance: http://www.past-impressions.co.uk/acatalog/GL75487_florence_cushion.jpg BIC:

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon

She bit her lower lip. Maybe referencing their one night stand—however vaguely—was a foolish thing to do. He was a clingy little Cub, Easy Cat Tanner, and Madeleine didn’t need a Siamese twin. Or a Siamese twin Cat. She smiled a little at the thought.

"You think it's weird that I did this?" Easy said, looking at the canvas in his hands. “Iah taught me to do it when we were making his tent larger. Lily~um~Lilith~she taught me about sewing, too. She was a seamstress."

She didn’t know who Iah and Lilith were. She wondered if she ought to. Easy looked at her so sadly that she didn’t have to be a psychotherapist to know they were somehow important people in the young man’s life.

"They went away. They~l-loved me, but I couldn't love them back. I hurt them."

She felt sticky on the inside, disgusting, at the waterworks welling up in Easy’s eyes. She knew how that went. Falling in love with people who went away. It wasn’t for lack of love coming from her, but all the other things she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t just bend over backwards to be a new, better person for a guy. Or a girl. Or anyone. It was easy to hurt people you cared about—who cared about you. Easy pulled out a silver flask to take a drink.

"Care to join me?" he asked, motioning for her to join him. "Should've done that before I sat down," he admitted. Then, holding up the flask, he announced, "Pertsovka!", making it sound like a toast. "Remember? Strange American boy drinking Russian liquor in a seedy Parisian bar? Who could make up this stuff?!"

She laughed nervously and sat down beside him.

“Yeah, really,” she murmured. “I don’t think either of us imagined we’d be under the opera house, drinking away a year later.”

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Madeleine's laughter as she sat next to him made him study her with a searching gaze. He knew nervous laughter when he heard it because he had heard himself laughing in that manner far too often. Was he making her nervous? Or, was she wishing that she hadn't come with him? Was she wishing to be anywhere else but here?

“Yeah, really.” Her voice was so soft that he had to bend his head toward her. “I don’t think either of us imagined we’d be under the opera house, drinking away a year later.”

It was his turn to make the edgy sound that passed for laughter as he grinned wryly and nodded. Uncapping the flask, he soon had it open and her drink poured. Handing it to her, he once more raised the flask in a salute. "I wish I had something clever to say, but then I wouldn't be me, would I?" His smile was a weary one. He took a sip then turned toward Madeleine, finding it strange to be so close to her in so casual a way. "Madeleine?" He hesitated to ask, as he did not want to destroy the moment. Bowing his head and giving it a shake, he said quietly, "Never mind." But, it nagged at him. "No. I gotta ask. You always do that~just once~or is it 'cause I didn't turn out to be what you wanted? I used to never think about it. Just did it. Only, here in Paris, seems like I'm nobody's taste~not their type. I'm not used to that. Are the rules different here or somethin'? Rozaliya~she said I should take what I want. I don't think I'm made that way. I've been used my whole life, since I was a kid. Maybe I got used to bein' taken and waiting for the other person. I been pawed a lot. I know what that's like. I don't wanna make somebody feel that way. What d'you think? I mean... You have to prob'ly put up with guys bein' all over you all the time. You think women and~um~guys~that they like that~somebody bein' really aggressive?" That called for another drink, this time a long, burning swallow of the potent brew. "I figure that, if I grabbed you and kissed you, you'd slug me and run away, right?" This time, the laugh came out broken and bitter. "But, if I asked for a kiss, you'd look at me like I was some stupid kid when I prob'ly got as much experience as people a lot older'n me. Experience doesn't make you a smooth operator. At least, it didn't me."

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon

Cubbie made a sound that could have been a laugh. She couldn’t imagine what was funny; Madeleine had said nothing but the truth. A year ago in Rein Speciaux, Madeleine had been looking for a one-night stand. She hadn’t even expected the boy to show up in what she thought of as her opera house. Sometimes, Madeleine could trick herself into thinking that night—and any subsequent run-ins she and Easy had—were all figments of her imagination. Well, almost. She would have easily imagined someone as beautiful as him; but not someone as chatty or flighty or whatever… She couldn’t find the words and she wouldn’t trouble herself to. She was a dancer; not a poet. There was undoubtedly an adjective to describe Easy better than she knew how.

At some point—Madeleine had been too lost in her mental thesaurus to notice—Easy poured her a drink. She took it from him and met his flask in a toast.

"I wish I had something clever to say, but then I wouldn't be me, would I?"

Madeleine chuckled softly and took a sip. Too right he was. For all he talked, Easy wasn’t exactly eloquent. But, what the hell? Neither was Madeleine. She lowered her drink and idly drummed her long nails against the metal.

Tappity-tappity-tap-tap.

It filled the silence for a moment, eased her mind just a tad. She and Easy weren’t exactly buddies; but Madeleine couldn’t deny knowing him anymore. Not after three run-ins and one night together. She didn’t know what to call him, though. Other than Cubbie. But even that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t just a conquest; he wasn’t her cub. The alcohol hadn’t relaxed her yet, but, soon, Madeleine wouldn’t trouble with herself with these kinds of worries.

"Madeleine?" Easy asked quietly. She looked over at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Never mind."

Madeleine shrugged and put her attention back on her drink. She took another sip. The taste drowned out the musty hay-smell of the stables.

No. I gotta ask. You always do that~just once~or is it 'cause I didn't turn out to be what you wanted? I used to never think about it. Just did it. Only, here in Paris, seems like I'm nobody's taste~not their type. I'm not used to that. Are the rules different here or somethin'? Rozaliya~she said I should take what I want. I don't think I'm made that way. I've been used my whole life, since I was a kid. Maybe I got used to bein' taken and waiting for the other person. I been pawed a lot. I know what that's like. I don't wanna make somebody feel that way. What d'you think? I mean... You have to prob'ly put up with guys bein' all over you all the time. You think women and~um~guys~that they like that~somebody bein' really aggressive?" That called for another drink, this time a long, burning swallow of the potent brew. "I figure that, if I grabbed you and kissed you, you'd slug me and run away, right?" This time, the laugh came out broken and bitter. "But, if I asked for a kiss, you'd look at me like I was some stupid kid when I prob'ly got as much experience as people a lot older'n me. Experience doesn't make you a smooth operator. At least, it didn't me."

Madeleine shrugged. She had it easier, dating and sex. She went in a club and heads turned. She found a guy or girl who tickled her fancy, flirted it up, and went home with that somebody. Or not. Then she’d find someone else. But even Madeleine knew her clock was ticking. It would be another couple years of this—hook-ups, one-night-stands, occasional beaus—and then what? Forty. Old. Alone. Unless the whole cougar thing worked for her. Which, judging by Easy’s presence here, was a possibility. She closed her eyes. She thought of Myron, how they’d been faux-gressive. Teasing, banter-y. And then he was gone. Just… gone. Madeleine didn’t want to tell Easy she knew what it was to be left behind and unsure of why or how it had happened. She wasn’t some desperate kid-sap. Besides, she was plenty of people’s taste, if only for a night or two. She had friends, too. Maureen, Ashton… She wasn’t that lonely or washed up. And she didn’t want the lives her friends had chosen. Maureen, in her open relationship, seemed to think she had it all. Ashton, happily pregnant by a man twice her age, would likely marry her baby-daddy within the next year or two. Madeleine as a married woman had made sense in her head only a few months ago; now it was laughable. She couldn’t afford to get complacent like that again. Thinking a guy would stick around, pursue her ‘til death-do-they-part. She had to be aggressive; go for what she wanted. It was a way to survive, a way to get what she needed.

But what about Easy? Did he have to be aggressive? Change who he was to get a date? Madeleine eyed him silently for a moment. He’d been easy pickings, really. Unaggressive. When he tried to be, it had come out as desperation and over excitement. She remembered him taking control—or trying to—and telling her to slow down. Practically begging for foreplay. Aggressive didn’t suit him. He was a cub; not a tiger. He’d spent too long, it sounded like, being the passive one, to even consider other options. Which was a pity. He was so, incredibly young.

“Everyone’s got different styles,” she told him finally. “If yours doesn’t jive with someone else, move on. Try again. You don’t have to compromise or be something you’re not. Maybe you just haven’t found the right girl—or guy, for that matter. Maybe you aren’t looking in the right places. Nothing Special is devoted to one-night stands, kiddo. If you want something real, don’t look in shady nightclubs. You won’t find it there.”

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy hoped that Madeleine wouldn't tire of his questions, of what he had to say, because he valued any advice she might give him. He wasn't certain of her age, but she spoke and carried herself as a woman, not a girl. He knew the difference, for she wasn't the only cougar (cool name!) he had been with. He doubted that anyone would guess the extent of his experience, especially going by how he was faring here in Paris. He had been nervous that time with her because it had been so long and his confidence so shaken that he knew he had to have been a disappointment. She wanted "wham, bam, thank you, cubbie" (OK... So, it didn't rhyme.), and he wanted pillow talk~total opposite of what usually is expected.

“Everyone’s got different styles,” she said, making him hope there was more to come, as he desperately needed advice. “If yours doesn’t jive with someone else, move on. Try again. You don’t have to compromise or be something you’re not. Maybe you just haven’t found the right girl—or guy, for that matter. Maybe you aren’t looking in the right places. Nothing Special is devoted to one-night stands, kiddo. If you want something real, don’t look in shady nightclubs. You won’t find it there.”

His eyes widened at that, realizing that she had misunderstood him. "But, I'm not lookin' for 'something real'," he protested. "I could have had that if I'd had the guts to say it back to Lily or to Iah. Only, they knew I couldn't promise to be with only one person. I'm lookin' for~for bein' with someone~one night or however many nights." Pausing to take several sips from the flask, he stared at the partially open door, collecting his thoughts. "That's the problem. I can't find anybody to~to... You were the first in a long time. I~I once got drunk and stood up in La Valhalla and said I'd go home with the first person who wanted me. Know what happened? Nobody took me up on it. Lilith was there. She took me outta there, took me in a cab back here~the stables~left me here when I fell asleep then went to the dorm. That's not the first time I did somethin' like that. No takers. Look. I know I'm screwed up. Women and girls, they usually like me~a lot. B-but, I~I'd rather be with..." He sighed, his head bowed. "Why? Why should I want to~to be with men?" he murmured, puzzled by his strange nature. "I~I like to be~to be hurt, Madeleine. See? There's somethin' really wrong with me? I want to be~touched~just about all the time. Only, nobody will except~like~pattin' my shoulder or sometimes hugging me~like a friend." He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to unload on you like that. But, you said I shouldn't have to change, but most people I know say I have to 'cause it's wrong to want to be used. But, that's what I want. They don't have to love me or even like me. I just feel like~like I'm gonna explode if somethin' doesn't happen!" At that, he drew up his knees, resting his forehead upon them, wrapping his arms around them, still hanging onto the flask. He spoke, his voice muffled by his nearly fetal position. "Back home, I was on the streets~a long time~years, mainly tryin' to stay away from Strat and Phaedra~m-my parents. I ain't~ummm~I'm not used to goin' without," he admitted. "Since I came to Paris..." His body trembled with frustration. "I know," he said as he slowly emerged from his shell. "I'm a big ol' bore." Setting aside the flask, he half-turned to face Madeleine. The tawny eyes begged as he asked, "May I kiss you, Madeleine? Just a kiss..."

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon

Easy’s eyes went all anime and Madeleine wondered if she’d misspoken. It happened a lot. When Ashton said, “I’m pregnant” Madeleine said, “Are you keeping it?” When Rachel said, “Santiago broke my heart”, Madeleine said, “We should slash his motorcycle tires.” Her advice was heartfelt, if not always on-target. She looked at Easy, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"But, I'm not lookin' for 'something real'," he protested. "I could have had that if I'd had the guts to say it back to Lily or to Iah. Only, they knew I couldn't promise to be with only one person. I'm lookin' for~for bein' with someone~one night or however many nights."

Madeleine understood that. Or, really, she thought she did. She knew what it was to feel like she was programmed for one night stands and no-strings attached relationships. She knew what it was like to have someone say “I love you” and to not have the guts to say it, too. Of course, she’d also tried the whole serious, monogamous relationship thing. And it had been good. Probably because it had been with the right person—or the right person for the time. Madeleine wasn’t going to get all drippy-eyed, but that had been as close to “something real” as she had and now she was back to looking for those fleeting, firework-y trysts she used to have as a younger woman, with men and women she scarcely knew and who didn’t make her laugh or talk to her all through the night about big, weighty things. And for now, it was Tylenol for her throbbing conscience. Easy was looking for that kind of temporary relief. She said nothing, but watched the young man drink some more. The spiciness of the Pertsovka was reminiscent of pepper vodka. Pepper vodka and honey. It wasn’t exactly her cup of Stoli.

"That's the problem. I can't find anybody to~to... You were the first in a long time,” Easy confessed.

Madeleine wasn't shocked. He’d been begging for her to slow down; way down. He’d been desperate to entertain, to please. But that had been a year ago. No. It had been two years ago. Was she the only one since then? Was that why she stuck out so clearly in Easy’s mind? First and last in a dry-spell? That shocked her. She had some kind of luck, probably rotten, and this was just further proof that the universe liked screwing with Madeleine’s brain.



“I~I once got drunk and stood up in La Valhalla and said I'd go home with the first person who wanted me. Know what happened?” Easy asked. Madeleine shook her head, knowing she’d get an answer either way. “Nobody took me up on it. Lilith was there. She took me outta there, took me in a cab back here~the stables~left me here when I fell asleep then went to the dorm. That's not the first time I did somethin' like that. No takers. Look. I know I'm screwed up. Women and girls, they usually like me~a lot. B-but, I~I'd rather be with..." He sighed, his head bowed. "Why? Why should I want to~to be with men?"

Madeleine fought the impulse to chuckle. She asked herself the same question a lot. Though bisexual, if you looked at Madeleine’s little black book, it was filled with men’s names and numbers. Men who were two-minute Toms. Men who were emotionally unavailable. Men who left her for dust. Men weren’t always giving the way women were. The difference between a woman and a man was the difference between Tell me how that feels and Uhh. I’m done. And yet, despite all that, Madeleine liked the way a man felt, the way a man smelled. She liked it when they knew what to do with what God gave ‘em. She liked wearing her conquest’s shirt and knowing it would be loose and fit over her boobs. She liked big, strong shoulders to cling to. She liked the deep soothing sounds a good man made; the way a good man hung around in the kitchen the morning after, watching her with rapt fascination at the mysterious “other” she presented. She could give Easy a dozen reasons why he could want to be with a man; none of them were wrong.

"I~I like to be~to be hurt, Madeleine. See? There's somethin' really wrong with me? I want to be~touched~just about all the time. Only, nobody will except~like~pattin' my shoulder or sometimes hugging me~like a friend." He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to unload on you like that. But, you said I shouldn't have to change, but most people I know say I have to 'cause it's wrong to want to be used. But, that's what I want. They don't have to love me or even like me. I just feel like~like I'm gonna explode if somethin' doesn't happen!"

So Easy had been blue-balling for a long time. Madeleine felt a little sorry for him. She could scarcely go two months without being touched. She watched as Easy curled up into a sit-up version of the fetal position.

"Back home, I was on the streets~a long time~years, mainly tryin' to stay away from Strat and Phaedra~m-my parents. I ain't~ummm~I'm not used to goin' without," he admitted. "Since I came to Paris..." His body trembled with frustration. "I know," he said as he slowly emerged from his shell. "I'm a big ol' bore."

Madeleine couldn’t help but think she had to be some sort of creepy pedophile for having sexed Easy way back when. He looked like a broken little kid; he wasn’t getting laid, but if Madeleine didn’t know better she would think he’d been consigned to his room. She licked at her lower lip. She wasn’t good with kids. She wasn’t good with baggage, either. She wasn’t good with any of the things Easy was talking about. She didn’t have a magical formula for snagging guys. If she did, she’d be rich. Easy put down his flask and turned a little towards her. His doleful, amber eyes caught her by surprise.

"May I kiss you, Madeleine? Just a kiss..."

Madeleine suddenly had a lot of sympathy for the princess in The Frog Prince. Here was this big-eyed and desperate someone asking her for a kiss. Just a kiss. And while it didn’t sound like a totally ludicrous request, Madeleine felt as though all that Pertsovka she’d just gulped down was working its way up her throat. Kissing Easy would be a pity-kiss. It wouldn’t be much better than those shoulder-pats he so detested. Madeleine sighed.

“You don’t want me to kiss you,” she told him. “You just want someone—anyone—to do it.”

Pot calling the kettle black?

“If I kissed you right now, you’d probably still feel bad about yourself. Maybe worse. I know how it goes. You get desperate or lonely enough, you’ll take anyone home. And then you wake up feeling even more worthless than before. Do you want me to do that to you?”

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

He had had to work up to asking her after having resisted the urge to simply leap upon her. The worst she could do was slap him, right? And, he had handled plenty of slaps in his life and a whole lot more. So, like meek little Cubbie, as she had dubbed him, he had asked for a favor.

“You don’t want me to kiss you,” she told him, and he gave his head a particularly fierce shake, denying that. “You just want someone—anyone—to do it." Yes, she had caught him, and he bowed his head then, face pinkening with the shame of being read so easily. Like a reprimanded child, he bit at his lower lip as he listened to her. "If I kissed you right now, you’d probably still feel bad about yourself. Maybe worse. I know how it goes. You get desperate or lonely enough, you’ll take anyone home. And then you wake up feeling even more worthless than before. Do you want me to do that to you?”

His head snapped upright so quickly that the muscles twinged, making him wince. With fever-bright eyes he stared intently into hers and said, "Yes! Y-you could do anything you wanted to me, Madeleine, and..." His voice faded as he really heard himself. Again came the drooping head and the quiet confession: "No. I'd just be using you, wouldn't I? I don't care if you use me, but I~I don't want to use people. I want them to want me. Guess it'd be like~like an appetizer, huh? My body wants more and more, and it can't get what it wants except from a~a guy. May's well've stayed in San Francisco or with Chance or even Jamil. I was gonna invite you to my house. There are these bedrooms there, really beautiful~at least to me. I only brought two guys there for~for~you know." He peered up at her, thinking how beautiful she was and how fortunate he had been to have even one night with her though she had seemed so taken by him.

"Didn't you ever think of findin' me again, Madeleine? I thought you~um~liked what you saw. Maybe I tried too hard and screwed up too much. Mr. Mehmet says it should be slow, and I was tryin' to be more like that. I shouldn't've teased you." He had suddenly recalled commenting to her about how she lacked what he needed. It had been a thoughtless thing to say to a beautiful woman. No wonder she didn't want to kiss him here, especially since he had admitted about his weakness for men. The word tease crossed his mind. "I've been with a lot of women and a lot of men, and I got to taking it for granted that people'd always want me, no matter where I went. Only, here in Paris, I feel like I'm sort of a dime-a-dozen type. Chance says that~dime a dozen. He told me I'm special~real special. Only, I must not be."

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Madeleine de Chandon

Madeleine knew what she was talking about. Hell, it was how she had been feeling of late: worthless. That no one—not even Myron—had or would stick around. And she had masochistically empowered people around her to make her feel that way…

… For a day or two. Madeleine de Chandon didn’t mope. She didn’t cry. She moved onto the next man or woman and discarded them before they could discard her. Madeleine Ledoux didn’t have the time to do any of that; she flung herself into work. Both of them made their own fun and played by their own rules. And if Cougar Cub didn’t start doing the same thing, too, he’d be left feeling like a rotting piece of garbage for the rest of his life. And Easy could protest all he wanted that she could do as she pleased with him. She still wouldn’t. They were both worth more than that, even if only just barely. Even slumped and sad-looking, Easy was better off without Madeleine in his bed. Madeleine was better off out of his bed.

Also, I don’t have any earplugs, she thought snidely. I couldn’t stomach more Middle Eastern music and jibber-jab.

"No. I'd just be using you, wouldn't I?”

Ding-ding-ding, ladies and gentlemen, they had a winner! Madeleine was a user; she didn’t want to be used, beaten at her own game. It was like how she’d picked up Valter What’s-His-Name, had some fun, and—unbeknownst to him—used him to pacify her sexual needs and to orgasm her to sleep. She hadn’t had a peaceful night since Myron disappeared… Until Valter showed up. And that had been exactly what she needed. Of course, she wasn’t telling the Swede that he was her version of a Nyquil. Didn’t want to bruise his ego, wanted to keep him around a bit longer. Besides, he was fun in and out of the bedroom. And he brought her coffee. What more could a girl want?

“I don't care if you use me,” Easy confessed. “But I~I don't want to use people. I want them to want me. Guess it'd be like~like an appetizer, huh? My body wants more and more, and it can't get what it wants except from a~a guy. May's well've stayed in San Francisco or with Chance or even Jamil. I was gonna invite you to my house. There are these bedrooms there, really beautiful~at least to me. I only brought two guys there for~for~you know."

She didn’t understand it. Why Easy didn’t just go for the guys he so craved. Madeleine did. And once she’d broken the “prude seal” back in the day, men and women started lining up all on their own. Mostly men. They’d do anything for a good lay. Easy was a man, wasn’t he? Didn’t he know that?

"Didn't you ever think of findin' me again, Madeleine?” Easy asked suddenly. “I thought you~um~liked what you saw. Maybe I tried too hard and screwed up too much. Mr. Mehmet says it should be slow, and I was tryin' to be more like that. I shouldn't've teased you."

He really shouldn’t have. It had dented her pride—if only for that moment—but it had turned her cold. She didn’t care that he was bisexual; she was, too. But there was something distinctly unappealing about being told that she would always pale in comparison to a man. If she had said to Myron that it was a pity he was so flat chested, she wouldn’t have seen him for dust. Not that she’d seen him lately. But, still. She was able to appreciate both human forms: the male and the female. And Madeleine knew you didn’t ask for things people couldn’t give you. Easy lacked tact. And though Madeleine liked what she saw, what she’d hear that night—and now—made her wish she’d gone for one of the uglier men in the bar that night. One who would have been grateful to even breathe her air, let alone screw her in a airless motel room.

"I've been with a lot of women and a lot of men, and I got to taking it for granted that people'd always want me, no matter where I went. Only, here in Paris, I feel like I'm sort of a dime-a-dozen type. Chance says that~dime a dozen. He told me I'm special~real special. Only, I must not be."

“You’re special all right, Cubbie,” Madeleine assured him in a cooing, sarcastic undertone. “But you have to make other people feel special, too. People are selfish. Greedy. You, me, everybody is. And if you want something from somebody, you gotta do more than just want it. You gotta work for it, stroke their egos a bit. Do you get what I’m saying?”

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Darn! It zapped my post! So, here I go again! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

“You’re special all right, Cubbie,” Madeleine said, but something about her voice and her look made him wince visibly and draw into himself, scrambling to put up the walls that might defend him. She was a woman capable of hurtful honesty, and he wasn't certain that he could handle it. “But you have to make other people feel special, too," she continued, and he nodded, encouraged that she was giving advice. " People are selfish. Greedy. You, me, everybody is. And if you want something from somebody, you gotta do more than just want it. You gotta work for it, stroke their egos a bit. Do you get what I’m saying?”

"Ummmm... Yeah. I think so." He was sorting it out in his head, trying to place himself in such a situation. "Only, when I try that, comin' on to someone, most of the time it turns out the guy isn't interested. Then, they prob'ly think I'm some kind of freak, and they don't come around me anymore. And, most of the girls~they're just girls~too young to be around somebody like me. Most women, they want a man, and I only know how to be a kid~a boychick~'cause that's what they want on the streets, and that's what I've been most of my life, Madeleine~a boychick for hawks. I don't know how to be different. I stood around, and they came after me. I try to do the taking, and it never works out. Not even once." There was a tremor to his voice, but he bit hard at his lower lip to take his mind off the need for tears. "I'm so tired of bein' shoved aside or looked at like I'm dirt or somethin' nasty. I do try tellin' them that they're handsome or beautiful or smart or whatever they are. Devlin," he remembered. "He was kind of old. He called me Fluffykins." A bit of a laugh came along with it. "I'd've been happy to stay with him till he got tired of me. I made him laugh, and he made me laugh and think. He wasn't what you'd call handsome, but~well~he was kinda hot." There was embarrassed laughter now. "But, he went away, and he never came back to see me, even if I thought he really liked me. He petted me," he recalled, a dreamy look on his pale face. Then, he shot her a bashful smile. "I'm a dope. I know it. I also know I'm a mess." He was quiet for a moment, knowing she would be thankful for that release. "That night, Madeleine, at the bar. What would you have done if I'd gotten up and come over to you and made some moves on you? Would you have liked that as much as comin' up to me and chattin' me up and us flirting? Or, would you have shot me down like some jerk bothering you? Tell me how to be~please. I know I talk too much, but there's so much I don't know 'cause, all those years on the street, nobody'd let me talk."