|
Post by Maestro on Feb 21, 2008 1:46:49 GMT -5
She walked through the night, heedless of the cold air and the wind. It had been a while since she had been to the cemetery; at times like this, that was where she fled to. The Cemetery or the Cathedral, it didn’t much matter as long as she could think and sometimes pray.
As she reached the Cemetery, Iseabail breathed deep the night air. After what had just happened, it was good to be outside. And now that she thought about the events of that night again, she wondered what had happened. What had gone so wrong that Armand had fled? She let out a short, mirthless laugh; each time Armand came to her room, he ended up literally running away from her.
Why was that? Was there something wrong with her? Iseabail wasn’t usually vain, but she did know that she was pretty, at least. Was it something else, then? Was she such a horrible person that others interacted with her as little as possible? WHAT?
Clearly, something had happened; she had felt Armand respond. Then why had he run away? There was more to this situation that Iseabail knew; that was certain. She figured she should probably talk to someone, but she had no idea who to “burden” with her story. Julien, bless his French heart, wouldn’t be of any help (well, very little, most likely), and Iseabail just didn’t know who else to turn to.
With a sigh, she sat down on one of the benches lining the Cemetery paths. Well, no matter what happened now, she still had the memory to think back on, right?
((Open thread.))
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 21, 2008 21:32:19 GMT -5
Normally Gavin was out like a light a couple of hours after sundown, but no, he had to be a moron and pick up his phone after dinner and hear Marlene-the-Secretary's long sob story about how she hadn't turned in all the paperwork for the newest report for the king and would Gavin please, please go to the office and finish the report for her?
So Gavin did, and ended up trecking back home through the cemetery at night, after the sun went down, and he had the battle prowess of a demented fish. Stupid freaking powers.
And... oh crap, a woman sitting alone in the cemetary. Gavin stiffled a groan and walked over. "Er, hi. You okay?"
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 21, 2008 23:52:02 GMT -5
Iseabail had not been expecting anyone to come along. It was rare to run into anyone in the Cemetery this time of night, especially when it was this chilly. She didn't mind the cold; at the moment, she welcomed it. It gave her something to think about other than what had just happened.
As Gavin spoke, she whipped her head up. Startled, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Och, does it look like I'm all right, laddie?" Oh, goodness. It wasn't his fault that she was confused and miserable; she didn't even KNOW the poor man. There was no reason to take it out on him.
With a sigh, she murmured, "I'm sorry, laddie, but ye havena exactly come upon a happy person." She just wanted to know WHY.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 0:01:11 GMT -5
"Er, well... no," Gavin admitted. "Then of course, I'm utter crap at picking up details and stuff after the sun goes down so, who knows? Maybe you're happiest when you're sitting alone in graveyards at night trying to out-emo a newly turned vampire with an old addiction to sun-bathing. But, um, yeah, guessing that you're, er... not. Happy that is. Or a sun-bathing vampire because it's nighttime. Or you could be because again, it's nighttime. Er."
Yet another pressing example of why Gavin Should Not Stay Up Past His Bedtime. "Right. Er. Why are you upset, if you don't mind my asking? I'm...." Okay, deep breath. "Sir-Gwalchgwyn- the- Greene- Knighte- Maedenie’s- Knighte-Defeandere- of- Wertue." Exhale. "But you can call me Gavin, 'cause I have a crappy name. But, er, I'm sort of... obligated to help."
Damn it.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 0:15:35 GMT -5
She listened to his rant, slightly amused. "Weel, ye are certainly right about the no' being happy part." Smiling wryly, she told him, "I am a vampire, though, so one out of two, I suppose."
"Pleased to meet ye, Sir Gwalchgwyn," she murmured, partly because she could pronounce it, partly because she hadn't heard the Gavin part. "Obligated to help?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Ah, well, she HAD wanted someone to talk to; maybe it was better that she didn't know him.
Taking a deep breath, Iseabail let it out, steeling herself to actually say what was wrong out loud. "I think I'm falling in love," she said, quietly. Granted, that wouldn't normally be a problem, but when you kissed the guy you were falling for, it was NOT a good sign for him to run out of the room immediately after that.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 0:28:39 GMT -5
"Hey, you got it!" Gavin exclaimed, surprised. "I bet you could prounce double lls in Welsh too. I don't know anyone else who can and that's sad. I like double lls. Llongyfarchiada doesn't sound like 'congratulations' without the double ll sound. Er, sorry, distracted. But, er, yes. Obligated to help. Long story. Very dull, very embarassing, and er-"
Wait, falling in love? That made her upset?
"Isn't that... supposed to make you happy?" Gavin asked cautiously. Granted, his bouts of falling in love tended to end in abject humiliation, but getting out of bed in the morning resulted in abject humiliation, so what else was new?
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 0:38:33 GMT -5
"Aye, I got it," she said softly, a slight smile on her lips. "I could try if ye like," she offered, trying to remember how different Welsh and Gaelic were. That wasn't the subject at hand, though, as Gavin reminded her by changing it back to what they had been talking about.
She smiled a bit, but there was no warmth in the expression. "Aye, from what I've heard it is." Sighing, she added, her tone slightly bitter, "But what do ye do when ye've just kissed the person ye think ye are falling in love with and that person runs out of the room, after? Plus, I dinna think he realizes I exist. Weel, other than when we are singing opposite each other." He had to notice her then, whether he wanted to or not.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 1:14:49 GMT -5
"Er, realize that I'd done something embarassing and stupid right in the middle of the, er... moment of passion and messed everything up again," Gavin replied. "Also, if he kissed you, I'm pretty sure he knows you exist. I mean, I've been very aware of the fact that all of the girls I've ever kissed existed. Mostly because they were letting me kiss them and that can easily turn out to be a delusion and all, but yeah. Kissing implies attraction. Attraction implies being aware of attractive qualities. Being aware of attractive qualities implies being aware of that person's existance. So, er, y'don't have to worry about that."
Gavin beamed at her. Hey! That logic hadn't been half-bad, particularly for after sun-down.
"But still. Maybe something weird happened? Like, er... your breath smelled or something."
Hm. That didn't seem very comforting.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 1:30:27 GMT -5
Well, he was right about that. Armand did know of her existence. "Aye, I suppose," she murmured, not really knowing what to say. According to Gavin's logic, if Armand had kissed her, then he must find her attractive. But if he was attracted to her, why had he run off?
"I dinna ken," she murmured, thinking things over again. With a shake of her head, she told him, "No, it wasna that." She sighed, figuring that she ought to explain how she knew that it hadn't been that her breath smelled. "We had been singing together, rather close. Rehearsing," she amended. "And then, there was the kiss, Armand pulled back, told 'I'm sorry,' and ran off."
Goodness, she really was telling her tale to a complete stranger, wasn't she? Ah, well. It might help to get it in the open.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 1:37:53 GMT -5
Gavin folded his arms and leaned back against a tree, crossing one leg behind the other. Dang. He sucked at this relationship thing. Where was David when you needed him?
"Er. Maybe... well look, if you were rehearsing you were, er... pretending not to be yourselves, right? So, er... latent attraction plus pretending to be in love or whatver as other people evolves into snogging and er... well, I guess the snogging came at a high point in the scene, right? Do he wouldn't know if it was, er... if it was you kissing or your character, right?"
Gavin thought this over. "Yeah. Sounds kinda right. We men are delicate creatures when it comes to chances to delve into our deep-seated insecurity issues. I.e. Y'generally run for the hills."
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 1:47:19 GMT -5
Iseabail watched as Gavin leaned against the tree, settling in, as it were, to help her deal with things. Not that much was going to help, until she found out what had actually happened. It was nice that he was trying, though; she appreciated it.
"He called me by my name before he kissed me," she murmured, remembering. "It was definitely me he was kissing, not Tosca."
At his explanation, she smiled a bit. "Aye, weel, I wish ye would explain things before running for the hills." And then, it hit her: she had not introduced herself yet. "Och, I'm sorry, lad. I'm Iseabail, by the way." Goodness. Apparently she was flustered enough to forget her manners.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 2:00:40 GMT -5
"Oh."
Well there went that theory, and Gavin's ability to understand interpersonal relationships wasn't stellar. Crap. What else could he say?
"Er. Maybe he realized he's... well, if he just realized he liked you, chances are he found that to be incredibly, er... unnerving. Of course, it depends on the guy and I don't know who you're talking about, so, er." Gavin raised a hand and waved. "Yeah. Hi Iseabail. Nice t'meet you. I'm the guy with the crazy Welsh name who goes by Gavin. Er, and, er... yeah. I wear armor and go in search of adventure and all that jazz when it's not the middle of the night. By day, er... earlier day, I file memos and try to keep my co-workers from sticking my stapler in jello again. You said you sing?"
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 2:27:14 GMT -5
"Aye, weel, I'll figure something out," she told him, smiling. "Thank ye for taking the time to try to help me." Even if he was sort of obligated to, it had been a nice gesture, stopping to help a complete stranger.
She didn't catch most of that, but she did manage to figure out that he worked in an office part of the day and went around in armor searching for adventure later in the day.
"Aye, I sing," she responded, slightly startled by that question.
|
|
|
Post by Marguerite on Feb 22, 2008 2:59:04 GMT -5
"That's cool," Gavin said. "Er wait, so, the, er... what's-his-name. Armand guy. He's a singer too? I mean, duh, he has to be if you were singing together, but singers aren't the most stable people on the face of the planet. Emotionally or mentally." Gavin himself was very mentally stable because he always swung between some variation of Desperate Optimism, Reluctance, or Exhaustion, all over Perpetual, Mind-Numbing Embarassment.
"So, even if he likes you, he's probably got more mental problems than Oedipus and Hannibal Lector combined and any shift in... anything probably meant he had a freak-out!"
Yeah! Solutions! Yaaaaaaay solutions! It would mean he'd actually be able to leave without spending a guilty, sleepless night over breaking his chivalric code.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Feb 22, 2008 3:10:15 GMT -5
She just stared at him as he rambled about singers. Not stable emotionally or mentally? Well, that might be true of SOME of them, it was also true of a lot of people that weren't singers.
"Aye, weel, thank ye for yer advice," she murmured, wondering what on earth to do now. "I'll take it into consideration."
|
|