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Post by Miss Jack on Aug 29, 2008 23:58:52 GMT -5
Each step leading to the entrance doors of the opera house felt like hiking a ziggurat, and yet, he reached them too soon. He stepped into the foyer and sighed, long and slow. He missed it, even the smell. He walked through the doors leading to the stage, and paused, flooded with memories. He froze, transfixed, at the rush of unwanted recollections— their first kiss, Scarpia to Tosca, Iker, the pain of a torn heart, that day, with her red dress.... All of a sudden, he found it incredibly hard to breathe. He left the auditorium in a burst of speed, struggling to suppress the strange panic rising in his chest. Swearing, he sank against a wall. It had been stupid to come here, where everything reminded him of her.
But he had promised himself, and Iseabail, though she didn't know, that he would do this. And so, he pushed himself from the wall as though a backpack of pure cement burdened his shoulders, and headed to her room.
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Post by Maestro on Aug 30, 2008 0:27:51 GMT -5
Thanks to Bela, Iseabail was ... sort of prepared for the knock at her door. She had put on one of her old gowns only to find that it didn't fit anymore. So, she'd had to dash down to the costume closet and pick something out. The dress she was wearing still didn't fit, but it was better than her own clothes. It was a bit low-cut, but it was obvious that it wasn't really intentional.
At least she looked half-way presentable; she was obviously still pale and thin, but her hair looked better. And she had eaten, so she felt a little bit better. But that was probably going to vanish by the end of this visit.
Taking a deep breath to try to stop herself from shaking, Iseabail opened the door. "Armand," she said quietly, somehow keeping her voice steady. "It's ... good to see ye," she whispered, opening the door a bit wider for him. This was going to hurt someone, whatever happened.
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Post by Miss Jack on Aug 30, 2008 0:53:52 GMT -5
He inwardly cringed at the polite greeting. It grated, undeserved, on his insides. But even so... "It's good to see you too."
And he could see for himself the after effects of what Bela had told him about. "Can I see you?" he asked softly, and then with a touch self-recrimination, rephrased, "I mean... can we talk..."
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Post by Maestro on Aug 30, 2008 1:24:43 GMT -5
"Aye," she said quietly, gesturing for him to come in. "Do come in," she said. Granted, this was probably not the best of ideas, but she didn't exactly feel up to going anywhere else. Her room already reminded her of him; she'd rather keep the potential painful areas to a minimum.
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Post by Miss Jack on Aug 30, 2008 1:42:48 GMT -5
If the stage had memories, then her room had even more. It was almost suffocating, but he repressed the urge to turn heel and run. He kept a safe distance from her, lest his hands betray him and reach out to touch her.
"I'm not sure what to say to you," he began carefully, "or what you want me to say. I just.... you need closure." He hoped she would direct the conversation, otherwise this was going to be a lot of long, and a lot of painful.
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Post by Maestro on Sept 2, 2008 15:00:07 GMT -5
Iseabail didn't know what to say. He was the one that had come to her, and while she did want some sort of explanation, she didn't exactly know how that was going to come about. This was already painful, seeing him and knowing that she had no right to go over to him, to run a hand through his hair, anything.
And so, to keep herself from doing just that, she sat at the piano bench, looking down at the keys. "I dinna ken, Armand," she said quietly. It was painful, and yet, soothing, in a way. Almost involuntarily, her hands started to play the Moonlight Sonata, ever so quietly, underneath her words. "I've lost a month of my life....I canna help wondering if I would have been able to break free sooner if ye had at least come to see if I was alive," she murmured. It was hard for her to say these things, almost as if she was accusing him. And she was, but at the same time, she wasn't, at all. It was Iker and not Armand that had hurt her. Although, Armand had hurt her indirectly by ignoring her. If he had come to her earlier, explained the situation, things might have been better. But who knows what would have happened if he had spent time with her as well as with Zizzy? It seemed to her that he had already made his decision the day that he told her he loved her. But in that case, why give her hope? Why give her hope only to tear it away again, after a full month of wishing and dreaming?
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Post by Miss Jack on Sept 2, 2008 16:59:11 GMT -5
He almost snatched her hands away from the keys. She had to play that song now, when his heart was already breaking without help from the lamenting melody.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know that sounds trite, and the words are meaningless, but... I am. I didn't think you wanted to see me. After that night, I assumed...."
He trailed off. She made it sound as if she thought he hadn't cared about her well-being at all, but he'd thought about her every day, wondering, aching... he couldn't tell her that now, when she wouldn't believe him anyway.
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Post by Maestro on Sept 4, 2008 16:06:19 GMT -5
She stopped playing, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Not want to see ye?" she whispered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Och, Armand," was all she was able to say before bursting into tears. Iseabail did not want to be doing this right now; it felt too much like she was trying to guilt Armand into ... something.
"I'm ... sorry," she managed to choke out, trying to stop the flow of her tears. "I didna ... mean it ... to sound ... like tha'." She smiled wanly, through her tears. "I ken that ye are no as cruel as tha," she trailed off, wondering what else she could say. This was so painful. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to choose? Couldn't he have both of them? And yet, she knew that she would tire of that, eventually, but even that would be better than all this pain.
Without realizing it, she whispered, "Why does it have to be this way?" And if things continued as they had, Armand wouldn't be seen on the stage again, for a long time, at least. Iseabail did not want to be what caused him to give up his passion. And yet, she could not figure out a way to tell him that. She desperately wanted to tell him that she loved him, but that would not be fair to him. He was a kind soul; he did not deserve this pain. But there was the brutal truth of it: none of them deserved this pain. Even that didn't meant that this wasn't happening; no, it was all too real.
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Post by Miss Jack on Sept 4, 2008 22:10:33 GMT -5
Her tears stabbed him, as they always did, and he was at her side before he could stop himself. An involuntary reaction he didn't attempt to repress once realization sank in. He touched her face, wiped away her tears. "Please don't cry," he said softly.
Though, he felt like doing the same thing. Why did this have to be like this? So hard... agonizing, even. "I don't know," he murmured and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest in a soft, unassuming hug, though somewhat harsh with reality.
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Post by Maestro on Sept 4, 2008 23:26:21 GMT -5
She knew that she should probably pull away, make things easier, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Somehow, his presence near her helped. She hadn't realized just how much she had yearned for his touch until he wiped away her tears. And she stopped weeping. It took an amazing amount of will-power, but she managed to stop crying.
Iseabail crumpled against him, involuntarily resting her head on his shoulder. As though she were finding every little thing that would cause more pain, Iseabail noticed that they fit together perfectly. This was so hard, for the both of them. And yet, why must they say goodbye? She almost started crying again, but there was her unspoken promise to consider; she refused to break that promise, even though she hadn't really made it. Armand had asked her not to cry and she wouldn't, for as long as she could possibly help it.
She didn't say anything, couldn't, really, she just stayed in Armand's arms, feeling them around her, and just holding him. It was all she could do, right now.
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Post by Miss Jack on Sept 4, 2008 23:39:07 GMT -5
It was easy, being like this, and he felt as though he could stay indefinitely. But the knowledge that they couldn't made him want to pull away; as if the longer they held on, the more it would hurt. His hand rested on the back of her head, fingers threaded through hair not nearly as full and soft as it used to be. Guilt rippled through him again.
"Iseabail..." Her name left his lips like a caress, and he couldn't continue what he'd meant to say. He couldn't tell her that, though they couldn't be together, he still loved her, and why was she doing this to herself? He sighed against her ear, torn.
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Post by Maestro on Nov 10, 2008 2:19:45 GMT -5
Why did good things always have to end? She knew that, sooner or later, he would leave and go back to Zizzy, but Iseabail couldn't help it; she wanted this moment to last forever. And yet, she didn't let go, couldn't let go. If he pulled away from her first, she would reluctantly accept yet again that he had made his choice. But she would put that off for as long as she possibly could.
As her name left his lips, she raised her head, gazing into his eyes. "Aye?" she asked softly, looking up at him. If the circumstances had been different, there was no telling what might have happened, but now, these few moments were going to be all she had. Iseabail gazed at Armand, memorizing his features. Soon, she would only see him in passing. And that hurt to even think about.
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