((Lucas Abernathy continued from on a quick sick rampage...))
Skipping class wasn't normally something Lucas did, but today he was making an exception. He knew there would be consequences for this action, just up and leaving class without a word would no doubt land him into trouble but he never particularly felt any strong connection to his first period music class any how to really be too bothered by it. But that was for another time, right now he was in the process was walking and chatting up the pretty girl that was his accomplice in ditching, Beryl Mahelona.
He conversed with her as they navigated through the halls of the Art Block, telling her about his latest idea for a movie: a Gothic horror vampire romance. He told her of characters he had thought of, story beats, general plot, etc. She was always good for expressing his ideas to and get ideas in return. As they walked through the halls and headed to the auditorium he told her about the scene he was most proud of: the vampire love interest breaking into a home and eating a baby. He was incredibly curious as to what her thoughts would be on that idea.
Soon they reached the auditorium and he pushed the doors open.
"...then after the baby the vampire eats the parents." He said as he held the door open for Beryl. Once she entered he quickly shut the door behind them, briefly looking the halls outside to see if the coast was clear before shutting them completely. They had been really lucky to have not ran into security, but now Lucas felt they were in the clear. The auditorium was absolutely deserted during class hours, especially during the early hours, so they could chill out here and not worry about getting caught by the school staff. At least for a little while anyway.
He always did enjoy the old theater aesthetic of the auditorium. It had a certain vintage charm to it that really endeared him to this part of the school. He sometimes had fantasies about projecting his film projects onto a screen here in this very auditorium for an actual audience. Well, he could dream anyway.
"So what do you think?" He asked, as he walked into the back row of seats, moving to the exact center of the row before taking his own seat. He looked over to Beryl, patting down on the seat next to him and giving her an inviting smile.
Risky Business
Skippin' class! - Tagging Cicada
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TheLordOfAwesome
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((copypaste first sentence only with Beryl Mahelona))
Wait wasn't Beryl supposed to be delivering something to a classroom? She shrugged- mentally, physically, spiritually- and stuffed that random paper in her hands (what was it for??) into the deep yawning pocket of her skirt, a cozy wool fit that she kept her hand in for the stimulation borne of the fluffy, warm textures.
They'd wandered the halls, and Beryl had been pretty sure they'd briefly walked between dimensions at some point, navigating onto another brane entirely wherein the ambiance had been the abandoned school of some horror-themed video game, and students weren't merely hiding behind closed classroom doors but were sequestered from sight for a more sinister reason. The mood for such a whimsical imagination had been adequately set by Lucas ranting through his artform, a classic ebb and flow of idea to limiting practicality and back and forth oscillation forever.
As the auditorium door opened Beryl busily strode in, expecting any number of greetings on the other side of the slightly creaky rustle of the elderly hinges. Silence and solitude had been one of those envisioned scenarios! .. Though the mental echo of a teacher's barking upon catching them or a deeply passionate couple's lips being torn apart with a surprised scream still felt so tangible, so real, as if it had been a phantasm Beryl had just missed seeing by the most atomically split of seconds.
Beryl continued to follow along, though she glanced at the stage for a moment, wondering if her illusion would somehow still play out onto reality spontaneously.
"Well I suppose.." Beryl knew what she was going to say already, and already had the exact phrasing in mind, but somehow her voice still stalled in real time, lagging behind the molasses-y speed of light of her thoughts. "I do care greatly for the sheer concept of a more.. how is it, Bonnie and Clyde, the villain's love affair is what we as the audience cheer for?"
She tossed herself into one seat off the exact center of the row. She sat in a little ball, protectively hugging her knees to her chest, her height clumsily arraying her onto the chair as if a slight shift in any direction would cause her to topple off. She looked at Lucas, with a lazy and slightly intimate droop of her head over her neck, cheek resting on her shoulder.
"The scene could be more powerful? Imagine the parent being attacked first, then.. there's a certain lull in the action, a false denouement as the injured parent watches the vampire act.. friendly to their child, warm, compassionate, playful. Kiss on the cute little baby's forehead, then." Beryl mutely clapped her hands together. "Gnash, chomp. What goes first, the face, expose the brain and cave the skull... Either way."
Wait wasn't Beryl supposed to be delivering something to a classroom? She shrugged- mentally, physically, spiritually- and stuffed that random paper in her hands (what was it for??) into the deep yawning pocket of her skirt, a cozy wool fit that she kept her hand in for the stimulation borne of the fluffy, warm textures.
They'd wandered the halls, and Beryl had been pretty sure they'd briefly walked between dimensions at some point, navigating onto another brane entirely wherein the ambiance had been the abandoned school of some horror-themed video game, and students weren't merely hiding behind closed classroom doors but were sequestered from sight for a more sinister reason. The mood for such a whimsical imagination had been adequately set by Lucas ranting through his artform, a classic ebb and flow of idea to limiting practicality and back and forth oscillation forever.
As the auditorium door opened Beryl busily strode in, expecting any number of greetings on the other side of the slightly creaky rustle of the elderly hinges. Silence and solitude had been one of those envisioned scenarios! .. Though the mental echo of a teacher's barking upon catching them or a deeply passionate couple's lips being torn apart with a surprised scream still felt so tangible, so real, as if it had been a phantasm Beryl had just missed seeing by the most atomically split of seconds.
Beryl continued to follow along, though she glanced at the stage for a moment, wondering if her illusion would somehow still play out onto reality spontaneously.
"Well I suppose.." Beryl knew what she was going to say already, and already had the exact phrasing in mind, but somehow her voice still stalled in real time, lagging behind the molasses-y speed of light of her thoughts. "I do care greatly for the sheer concept of a more.. how is it, Bonnie and Clyde, the villain's love affair is what we as the audience cheer for?"
She tossed herself into one seat off the exact center of the row. She sat in a little ball, protectively hugging her knees to her chest, her height clumsily arraying her onto the chair as if a slight shift in any direction would cause her to topple off. She looked at Lucas, with a lazy and slightly intimate droop of her head over her neck, cheek resting on her shoulder.
"The scene could be more powerful? Imagine the parent being attacked first, then.. there's a certain lull in the action, a false denouement as the injured parent watches the vampire act.. friendly to their child, warm, compassionate, playful. Kiss on the cute little baby's forehead, then." Beryl mutely clapped her hands together. "Gnash, chomp. What goes first, the face, expose the brain and cave the skull... Either way."
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TheLordOfAwesome
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Lucas nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Beryl's suggestion, his smile growing larger and toothy as she went on. Once she was finished he quickly fished out his phone from his pocket and began typing away, adding these details to his notes on the movie idea with giddy excitement.
"I love all this!" He exclaimed, his voice raising an octave as his fingers dashed around the smartphone's touchscreen keyboard. "This is so much better than what I originally thought of! I should have come to you with this much sooner! This is some seriously twisted shit"
Once he had completed his notes he set aside his phone, turning to face Beryl with his trademark flirtatious grin on his face. As much as he enjoyed talking about his craft he also remembered that he was currently alone with a cute girl. It was time to turn up the charm a bit, keep on the subject of the story but try and segue it into a more intimate moment. She seemed rather accepting of his flirtation towards her back in the class and hell she followed him here, if she wasn't interested even a little she would have given some sort of sign. Even if she wasn't interested, he was find just having a casual conversation while they were here killing time at the least.
"Of course, we have to remember this isn't just a horror." He mused, leaning forward slightly and adjusting himself in his seat to be a bit closer to Beryl. "We've got to consider the... romantic aspects of the story. I've had a few ideas on that front, but I'd like to hear any ideas you might have first."
Lucas locked his eyes with Beryl's, and rested his chin on the back of his hand as he focused on her. His posture was relaxed, and the smile he was flashing Beryl soft and encouraging as he waited for her response. Trick was to maintain eye contact, but not so hard as to inadvertently miss everything she says and only have to say "I really like your eyes, they're so pretty." Which was a perfectly fine thing to say but it needs a proper time and place. Though Lucas will admit Beryl had pretty eyes none the less.
"I love all this!" He exclaimed, his voice raising an octave as his fingers dashed around the smartphone's touchscreen keyboard. "This is so much better than what I originally thought of! I should have come to you with this much sooner! This is some seriously twisted shit"
Once he had completed his notes he set aside his phone, turning to face Beryl with his trademark flirtatious grin on his face. As much as he enjoyed talking about his craft he also remembered that he was currently alone with a cute girl. It was time to turn up the charm a bit, keep on the subject of the story but try and segue it into a more intimate moment. She seemed rather accepting of his flirtation towards her back in the class and hell she followed him here, if she wasn't interested even a little she would have given some sort of sign. Even if she wasn't interested, he was find just having a casual conversation while they were here killing time at the least.
"Of course, we have to remember this isn't just a horror." He mused, leaning forward slightly and adjusting himself in his seat to be a bit closer to Beryl. "We've got to consider the... romantic aspects of the story. I've had a few ideas on that front, but I'd like to hear any ideas you might have first."
Lucas locked his eyes with Beryl's, and rested his chin on the back of his hand as he focused on her. His posture was relaxed, and the smile he was flashing Beryl soft and encouraging as he waited for her response. Trick was to maintain eye contact, but not so hard as to inadvertently miss everything she says and only have to say "I really like your eyes, they're so pretty." Which was a perfectly fine thing to say but it needs a proper time and place. Though Lucas will admit Beryl had pretty eyes none the less.
Beryl liked to posit (a bunch, pointlessly so, and so on),
that, all things were equally subjective because everyone occupied the center of their own universe. And all around that little flesh and bone and spirit (or other sentient material) dot the cosmological horizon stretched, almost exactly the same as any other, but infinitesimally and infinitely different.
The nuances in perspectives made all the difference, wide as a gulf, or tiny as the breeze of a puff of gently exhaled air from the slightly rounded lips of a cute boy (cute girl, cute gender optional, Beryl had experienced it all in irrelevant amounts of varying detail). Beryl supposed. That, all things equal, the tiny nuances of her fractionally different opinions could make her many things.
They could make her, say, a girlfriend of two boys and attracted utterly to a boy who was neither of the above.
And that was alright! It was folly to presume that any universal morality presided when no one universe was even the accurate-most universe they all inhabited. Beryl could even sit upon this chair, and resonate with it's higher-level spirit (a Platonic solid of chair-ness, perhaps?), and perform the dictionary definition of liberally cheating on the people she was already involved with, and...
Well, then what? She didn't have the answer to that question... she...
didn't need it..? Or. She outright didn't know. But, she accepted that fact.
She accepted a counterpoint harmony in their song and dance. Adjusting herself closer, closer than he'd dared, so the softness of her cheek was gently draped over his shoulder like a victorious warrior's blanket when he returned from battle. Their eyes met and met, in many stagnant frames per second. Beryl smiled, prettied her eyes with a slow-motion flutter. Open.... shut.... open....
She continued on, business like.
"Well I think my idea is I'd like to hear your ideas, and my other idea is... familial love! Also perverted, viz-a-viz..." She continued to shallowly snuggle, not moving an inch, maintaining only this most superficial contact. Feeling heat exchange, slow and tempered enough that it was reminiscent of the comfortable pillow that was a good night's sleep... the final slumber of death... the very desolate end of the universe itself. Static, unchanging, so very invitingly final. Her breath was silent, her lips barely moved as she spoke.
"Instruct the actress... of the... everything," and she left that vague-ery on purpose, "to care for the child. In all moments, let their love pour onto it, even, as it's broken and shattered by such twisted affection.."
that, all things were equally subjective because everyone occupied the center of their own universe. And all around that little flesh and bone and spirit (or other sentient material) dot the cosmological horizon stretched, almost exactly the same as any other, but infinitesimally and infinitely different.
The nuances in perspectives made all the difference, wide as a gulf, or tiny as the breeze of a puff of gently exhaled air from the slightly rounded lips of a cute boy (cute girl, cute gender optional, Beryl had experienced it all in irrelevant amounts of varying detail). Beryl supposed. That, all things equal, the tiny nuances of her fractionally different opinions could make her many things.
They could make her, say, a girlfriend of two boys and attracted utterly to a boy who was neither of the above.
And that was alright! It was folly to presume that any universal morality presided when no one universe was even the accurate-most universe they all inhabited. Beryl could even sit upon this chair, and resonate with it's higher-level spirit (a Platonic solid of chair-ness, perhaps?), and perform the dictionary definition of liberally cheating on the people she was already involved with, and...
Well, then what? She didn't have the answer to that question... she...
didn't need it..? Or. She outright didn't know. But, she accepted that fact.
She accepted a counterpoint harmony in their song and dance. Adjusting herself closer, closer than he'd dared, so the softness of her cheek was gently draped over his shoulder like a victorious warrior's blanket when he returned from battle. Their eyes met and met, in many stagnant frames per second. Beryl smiled, prettied her eyes with a slow-motion flutter. Open.... shut.... open....
She continued on, business like.
"Well I think my idea is I'd like to hear your ideas, and my other idea is... familial love! Also perverted, viz-a-viz..." She continued to shallowly snuggle, not moving an inch, maintaining only this most superficial contact. Feeling heat exchange, slow and tempered enough that it was reminiscent of the comfortable pillow that was a good night's sleep... the final slumber of death... the very desolate end of the universe itself. Static, unchanging, so very invitingly final. Her breath was silent, her lips barely moved as she spoke.
"Instruct the actress... of the... everything," and she left that vague-ery on purpose, "to care for the child. In all moments, let their love pour onto it, even, as it's broken and shattered by such twisted affection.."
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TheLordOfAwesome
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Seems Beryl was the first to make the first move, moving even closer than Lucas had dared and resting her head upon his shoulder. She snuggled into them as they looked into one another's eyes, feeling the warmth of her soft cheek through the thin layer of fabric of his t-shirt. She smiled at him and batted her pretty eyes, and he smiled in return. Slowly he wrapped the arm of the shoulder she rested upon around her as she spoke, keeping a firm but intimate grip on her. This was going extremely well...
He nodded periodically as she spoke, taking in her words as they formed from her lips.
Instruct the actress of the everything... What exactly did she mean by that, he wonder? Beryl could be rather odd sometimes and the things that she says even odder, but he supposed there was a certain beauty with her unique mindset. But perhaps there was some deeper wisdom to her words that he did not quite understand. But to care for the child? Now that one puzzled him particularly. Was it the child the vampire devoured, having been turned into some shrieking revenant by the vampires bite? Condemned to an existence of eternal life and youth as a half-eaten corpse; undead with the underdeveloped consciousness of an infant?
Or perhaps Beryl was simply being metaphorical? Perhaps the child was simply the script that the actress should be instructed to care for? To give real, raw emotion to despite the outlandish premise?
There was no real way to be sure.
"Yes, I see..." He muttered thoughtfully, nodding as he mulled over words. "These characters... their love should be as clear on the screen as their madness. Their heinous acts high-lighted by the pureness of their affection for one another. Even as the world burns around them, they carry a certain serenity that humanizes even their inner, and outer, monstrosity."
"In the novel Dracula, one of the vampire's weaknesses was that he could be confined to his coffin at night should someone lay a wild rose upon it." As he said this he slowly reach towards Beryl's face with his free hand, brushing aside a strand of hair from her face. "Despite being a weakness, could it not also be seen as a gesture of trust? Allowing oneself to be confined, secured in the knowledge that their love will set them free?"
Slowly his hand lowered, his fingers gently trailing down and caressing the soft flesh of Beryl's cheek.
"Would that really be so bad?"
And he slowly began to lean his head in towards her...
He nodded periodically as she spoke, taking in her words as they formed from her lips.
Instruct the actress of the everything... What exactly did she mean by that, he wonder? Beryl could be rather odd sometimes and the things that she says even odder, but he supposed there was a certain beauty with her unique mindset. But perhaps there was some deeper wisdom to her words that he did not quite understand. But to care for the child? Now that one puzzled him particularly. Was it the child the vampire devoured, having been turned into some shrieking revenant by the vampires bite? Condemned to an existence of eternal life and youth as a half-eaten corpse; undead with the underdeveloped consciousness of an infant?
Or perhaps Beryl was simply being metaphorical? Perhaps the child was simply the script that the actress should be instructed to care for? To give real, raw emotion to despite the outlandish premise?
There was no real way to be sure.
"Yes, I see..." He muttered thoughtfully, nodding as he mulled over words. "These characters... their love should be as clear on the screen as their madness. Their heinous acts high-lighted by the pureness of their affection for one another. Even as the world burns around them, they carry a certain serenity that humanizes even their inner, and outer, monstrosity."
"In the novel Dracula, one of the vampire's weaknesses was that he could be confined to his coffin at night should someone lay a wild rose upon it." As he said this he slowly reach towards Beryl's face with his free hand, brushing aside a strand of hair from her face. "Despite being a weakness, could it not also be seen as a gesture of trust? Allowing oneself to be confined, secured in the knowledge that their love will set them free?"
Slowly his hand lowered, his fingers gently trailing down and caressing the soft flesh of Beryl's cheek.
"Would that really be so bad?"
And he slowly began to lean his head in towards her...
"Yes, I see..."
Beryl particularly did not reciprocate because her eyes were closed. Anyways she contemplated Lucas' response and she contemplated contemplating and she was profoundly unaware of what she was doing, which seemed to her to be the optimal way to approach these meager moments of a high-schooler's life and ramblings. 'Pure heinousness', a beautiful oxymoron, 'world burning serenity' likewise. Beryl enjoyed the impossible visions of an apocalypse that was beautifully peaceful- perhaps from the perspective of the victim of a meteor strike, presence gracing ground zero, their instantaneous annihilation was merely a flash of the most beautifully brief of glowering lights before the corneas seared away to the bone?
"I love the way you worded that-..."
Lucas interrupted her.
"... Allowing oneself to be confined, secured in the knowledge that their love will set them free?"
Though she hadn't anything else to immediately say anyways.
Beryl felt soft. Double meaning: she physically was soft to the touch, smooth skin unblemished by a lifetime of genetic heritage and slight padding to her advantage, she herself felt soft, like she was being gently tucked into a blanket by a mommy that would hug her, or a daddy that would smile proudly. Something infinitely familiar, wanted, for want.
She shied away slightly. One of her hands came up and gently touched Lucas' own cheek, but with infinitely more force than zero. Just one finger, enough to stall his momentum.
She said nothing further, except for the things she promptly said:
"Now their love.. controls. Trust can be warped, into, something far more sinister.. 'Til death do us part is a scary phrase, Lucas."
Beryl particularly did not reciprocate because her eyes were closed. Anyways she contemplated Lucas' response and she contemplated contemplating and she was profoundly unaware of what she was doing, which seemed to her to be the optimal way to approach these meager moments of a high-schooler's life and ramblings. 'Pure heinousness', a beautiful oxymoron, 'world burning serenity' likewise. Beryl enjoyed the impossible visions of an apocalypse that was beautifully peaceful- perhaps from the perspective of the victim of a meteor strike, presence gracing ground zero, their instantaneous annihilation was merely a flash of the most beautifully brief of glowering lights before the corneas seared away to the bone?
"I love the way you worded that-..."
Lucas interrupted her.
"... Allowing oneself to be confined, secured in the knowledge that their love will set them free?"
Though she hadn't anything else to immediately say anyways.
Beryl felt soft. Double meaning: she physically was soft to the touch, smooth skin unblemished by a lifetime of genetic heritage and slight padding to her advantage, she herself felt soft, like she was being gently tucked into a blanket by a mommy that would hug her, or a daddy that would smile proudly. Something infinitely familiar, wanted, for want.
She shied away slightly. One of her hands came up and gently touched Lucas' own cheek, but with infinitely more force than zero. Just one finger, enough to stall his momentum.
She said nothing further, except for the things she promptly said:
"Now their love.. controls. Trust can be warped, into, something far more sinister.. 'Til death do us part is a scary phrase, Lucas."
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TheLordOfAwesome
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Lucas stopped in his tracks as as a finger to his cheek halted his momentum. Did he misread the situation? Was he going to fast for her? Maybe. Either way he felt he shouldn't push his luck and decided to lean back a little. He listened to what she had to say, closing his eyes and nodding as she spoke.
"Now their love.. controls. Trust can be warped, into, something far more sinister.. 'Til death do us part is a scary phrase, Lucas."
Was she concerned about the characters or was this her subtly expressing her concerns over his intentions towards her? Perhaps both? It was a little hard to tell if Beryl, but he could understand her either way.
"That's a valid concern." He muttered as he leaned back further, sitting upright in his chair. "Trust can be a scary thing, but genuine trust is a a rare commodity."
"The kind of trust love brings out in others isn't the dime a dozen trust you dish out to just about anybody. If one can't trust their lover unconditionally then the entire partnership is broken for all involved, and someone will end up getting hurt."
He sighed and faced towards the stage, looking of into the distance as he stroked Beryl's arm comfortingly. His grip over her softened, not wanting to feel constricted by him as he gently caressed her arm, taking in the warmth of her body heat as she was held close to him.
"Yes, a lot of things can be scary. The idea of someone you trust abusing that trust is even scarier, but if you don't trust them enough to not do that then you never trusted them to begin with." He looked back to her from the corner of his eye, smiling softly. "Till death do us part is a pretty scary phrase though, especially if you are an immortal being. That phrase signifies that the married couple intend to spend the remainder of their lives together, but eternity is a pretty long lifespan." He turned his head to face Beryl fully again, smile still on his face.
"Though if you trust your significant other enough then I suppose it isn't all that scary. Know what I mean?"
"Now their love.. controls. Trust can be warped, into, something far more sinister.. 'Til death do us part is a scary phrase, Lucas."
Was she concerned about the characters or was this her subtly expressing her concerns over his intentions towards her? Perhaps both? It was a little hard to tell if Beryl, but he could understand her either way.
"That's a valid concern." He muttered as he leaned back further, sitting upright in his chair. "Trust can be a scary thing, but genuine trust is a a rare commodity."
"The kind of trust love brings out in others isn't the dime a dozen trust you dish out to just about anybody. If one can't trust their lover unconditionally then the entire partnership is broken for all involved, and someone will end up getting hurt."
He sighed and faced towards the stage, looking of into the distance as he stroked Beryl's arm comfortingly. His grip over her softened, not wanting to feel constricted by him as he gently caressed her arm, taking in the warmth of her body heat as she was held close to him.
"Yes, a lot of things can be scary. The idea of someone you trust abusing that trust is even scarier, but if you don't trust them enough to not do that then you never trusted them to begin with." He looked back to her from the corner of his eye, smiling softly. "Till death do us part is a pretty scary phrase though, especially if you are an immortal being. That phrase signifies that the married couple intend to spend the remainder of their lives together, but eternity is a pretty long lifespan." He turned his head to face Beryl fully again, smile still on his face.
"Though if you trust your significant other enough then I suppose it isn't all that scary. Know what I mean?"
Beryl's hand traced the arc of Lucas neutralizing his position. Skin to skin, palpable heat and Beryl couldn't tell who radiated what. The slenderness of her digit ended up gently resting on his shoulder.
The young woman stared the way of the stage. Empty, abandoned, curtains drawn half way to reveal the magicless mundanity of the bare floor and dry, colorless walls beyond.
Still, this lonely and desolate room stripped bare of the pomp of theatrics was somehow cozy, fascinating, witness to the moment-to-moment evolution of life. Of ideas.
"Trust might be easy to abuse, if, the two involved define it... differently! It could be.. always that the lines between blur, when someone says:
.. 'I am yours'.
But, then the other says..
'I want more'."
Beryl gesticulated fluently into the air in front of her, in some language she didn't know, with some intended communications she couldn't guess at. Her fingers sliced randomly, lazily, drifting in three dimensions as she seemed to grasp at the multitudes of absolutely nothing in her sights.
It was always the unseen part of the mind that betrayed you. The part nobody save yourself- or perhaps not even that person called you- could understand. Perhaps Lucas had said something Beryl couldn't quite comprehend correctly: and that manner of statistical error, that tragedy of floating point misalignment, could end a life in misery and destruction more violent than the light that had first assaulted their eyes when they'd first passed out of the womb.
"Maybe I do know what you mean, Lucas! And maybe you're right. I'd love the opportunity to trust someone like that." She said it with a warm smile, and a slightly saccharine tone. Her cartoon fantasies of puerile romance irrelevantly invoked to life. She continued to vacantly stare the way of the stage, amused by the slow meander of ambient shadows.
The young woman stared the way of the stage. Empty, abandoned, curtains drawn half way to reveal the magicless mundanity of the bare floor and dry, colorless walls beyond.
Still, this lonely and desolate room stripped bare of the pomp of theatrics was somehow cozy, fascinating, witness to the moment-to-moment evolution of life. Of ideas.
"Trust might be easy to abuse, if, the two involved define it... differently! It could be.. always that the lines between blur, when someone says:
.. 'I am yours'.
But, then the other says..
'I want more'."
Beryl gesticulated fluently into the air in front of her, in some language she didn't know, with some intended communications she couldn't guess at. Her fingers sliced randomly, lazily, drifting in three dimensions as she seemed to grasp at the multitudes of absolutely nothing in her sights.
It was always the unseen part of the mind that betrayed you. The part nobody save yourself- or perhaps not even that person called you- could understand. Perhaps Lucas had said something Beryl couldn't quite comprehend correctly: and that manner of statistical error, that tragedy of floating point misalignment, could end a life in misery and destruction more violent than the light that had first assaulted their eyes when they'd first passed out of the womb.
"Maybe I do know what you mean, Lucas! And maybe you're right. I'd love the opportunity to trust someone like that." She said it with a warm smile, and a slightly saccharine tone. Her cartoon fantasies of puerile romance irrelevantly invoked to life. She continued to vacantly stare the way of the stage, amused by the slow meander of ambient shadows.
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TheLordOfAwesome
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"Wouldn't we all, Beryl?"
He followed Beryl's gaze to the stage and sat wondering just what scene was playing within the contents of his companion's mind. Scenes of romance perhaps? Or more mundanely, thoughts on the blandness of a stage removed of its trappings of theatrics.
"'Trust me' is probably the most romantic phrase within the English language." The arm around Beryl's shoulder slid upward, slowly, gently, before stopping upon reaching the top. His fingers reached over to Beryl's hair, gently taking a lock of it between his digits and playing with it idly. "It would be such a shame for someone to go through life without saying it at least once. Am I right?"
His thoughts turned to his girlfriend Camille. Did she trust him, he wondered? He like to think she does given just what they get up to in there time together. The thought of their time together brought a smile to his face. Perhaps he'd invite Beryl to tag along if this goes well...
"Wouldn't it be such a shame if the lovers in this tale never get to express their undying trust in one another?" He pondered looking wistfully towards the empty stage, picturing the heartbreaking scene. The woe and bitterness these characters feel as they are unable to say what they truly feel to one another, separated forever by perhaps an untimely death brought upon them by an assassin's blade.
"It is all that is left unsaid upon which tragedies are built."
He followed Beryl's gaze to the stage and sat wondering just what scene was playing within the contents of his companion's mind. Scenes of romance perhaps? Or more mundanely, thoughts on the blandness of a stage removed of its trappings of theatrics.
"'Trust me' is probably the most romantic phrase within the English language." The arm around Beryl's shoulder slid upward, slowly, gently, before stopping upon reaching the top. His fingers reached over to Beryl's hair, gently taking a lock of it between his digits and playing with it idly. "It would be such a shame for someone to go through life without saying it at least once. Am I right?"
His thoughts turned to his girlfriend Camille. Did she trust him, he wondered? He like to think she does given just what they get up to in there time together. The thought of their time together brought a smile to his face. Perhaps he'd invite Beryl to tag along if this goes well...
"Wouldn't it be such a shame if the lovers in this tale never get to express their undying trust in one another?" He pondered looking wistfully towards the empty stage, picturing the heartbreaking scene. The woe and bitterness these characters feel as they are unable to say what they truly feel to one another, separated forever by perhaps an untimely death brought upon them by an assassin's blade.
"It is all that is left unsaid upon which tragedies are built."
"We would," Beryl redundantly answered in plain tone and plainer text reiterating the thought in her head. She typed out her own adventure in a contrived scene containing all her favorite taboo tropes, and so she iterated:
She mused mundanely on bland thoughts that didn't matter, and maybe also thoughts that did, and maybe also she envisioned what was about to happen happening in a montage of all her possible futures and that was the two, called she and he, or maybe it was two souls of any indistinct gender, but there they sat, there for a pointless reason or rather there for a meaningful irrelevance, and his hand wove into her hair, cross stitch, and she could feel every motion of his working them inch by inch closer
only that last bit was happening in reality as opposed to solely in her own internal monologue?
It certainly was, if she actually took the moment to pay attention to her surroundings for a second. Her still, gently breathing mannequin of a body was falling into Lucas' gravity via orbital drag. Her warm shoulder radiated into his warm palm. The equilibrium was hotter than either of them individually. Barely palpable, but for Beryl a degree of temperature made a huge difference.
She listened.
"A tragedy can also be spoken out loud, I guess.. Could be a lose-lose situation. I think those are popular in fiction..."
Once more she was staring Lucas' way, the emerald cuts inset into her eyes fiery and brilliant as she channeled emotion in the vaguest way she knew not how. She looked... vulnerable. But defensively so.
Maybe that was just how she always looked and one just needed an angle this rare.
She mused mundanely on bland thoughts that didn't matter, and maybe also thoughts that did, and maybe also she envisioned what was about to happen happening in a montage of all her possible futures and that was the two, called she and he, or maybe it was two souls of any indistinct gender, but there they sat, there for a pointless reason or rather there for a meaningful irrelevance, and his hand wove into her hair, cross stitch, and she could feel every motion of his working them inch by inch closer
only that last bit was happening in reality as opposed to solely in her own internal monologue?
It certainly was, if she actually took the moment to pay attention to her surroundings for a second. Her still, gently breathing mannequin of a body was falling into Lucas' gravity via orbital drag. Her warm shoulder radiated into his warm palm. The equilibrium was hotter than either of them individually. Barely palpable, but for Beryl a degree of temperature made a huge difference.
She listened.
"A tragedy can also be spoken out loud, I guess.. Could be a lose-lose situation. I think those are popular in fiction..."
Once more she was staring Lucas' way, the emerald cuts inset into her eyes fiery and brilliant as she channeled emotion in the vaguest way she knew not how. She looked... vulnerable. But defensively so.
Maybe that was just how she always looked and one just needed an angle this rare.
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TheLordOfAwesome
- Posts: 489
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"You might be right."
He nodded his head slowly as he thought over what she said. Most of the time he had difficulties understanding Beryl's thought process sometime - in fact, talking to Beryl was like playing chess with a supercomputer that made seemingly random moves to mock everything you knew about chess - but as they continued this discussion he felt like he could understand her just a little bit better. Like they were on the same creative wavelength or something.
He looked back to her, meeting her gaze with his own. There was a certain emotional intensity to the look she gave him that call to him like a silent siren song, one that was made all the more alluring by the proximity and warmth of their body so close together.
She seemed so vulnerable, and Lucas couldn't help but give her a soft, reassuring smile as his amber eyes stared into her. The hand on her shoulder gripped her shoulder, squeezing it gently and reassuringly, and with his free hand he reached up and brushed her cheek affectionately. The slender digits of hand cupped her cheek, the heat exchange between them spreading as his thumb rubbed her cheek lightly.
He leaned his head towards her's but stopped mere inches away, daring not to try and rush this if he was again misreading the situation, all while keeping his eyes locked to her's with a soft, inviting look. The sort of that said "There is nothing to worry about."
He considered making a move, but perhaps it would be better to let her decide how they proceed and give her the option. Let her make the move at her own pace, and looked at her somewhat expectantly but still reassuring.
He nodded his head slowly as he thought over what she said. Most of the time he had difficulties understanding Beryl's thought process sometime - in fact, talking to Beryl was like playing chess with a supercomputer that made seemingly random moves to mock everything you knew about chess - but as they continued this discussion he felt like he could understand her just a little bit better. Like they were on the same creative wavelength or something.
He looked back to her, meeting her gaze with his own. There was a certain emotional intensity to the look she gave him that call to him like a silent siren song, one that was made all the more alluring by the proximity and warmth of their body so close together.
She seemed so vulnerable, and Lucas couldn't help but give her a soft, reassuring smile as his amber eyes stared into her. The hand on her shoulder gripped her shoulder, squeezing it gently and reassuringly, and with his free hand he reached up and brushed her cheek affectionately. The slender digits of hand cupped her cheek, the heat exchange between them spreading as his thumb rubbed her cheek lightly.
He leaned his head towards her's but stopped mere inches away, daring not to try and rush this if he was again misreading the situation, all while keeping his eyes locked to her's with a soft, inviting look. The sort of that said "There is nothing to worry about."
He considered making a move, but perhaps it would be better to let her decide how they proceed and give her the option. Let her make the move at her own pace, and looked at her somewhat expectantly but still reassuring.
She blinked. In that instant that her eyes were gently draped over and sequestered from reality everything about her countenance might have suddenly become utterly different, with or without rhyme or reason.
That was on Lucas to interpret, rather, to derive a meaning from the maybe perceptible shift in how her eyes caught the light and splayed it over the clear of her cornea. Similarly to derive a meaning from the weight of her eyelids and the manicured shrubbery that was the arrangement of her slightly make-up blessed eyelashes, branches thicker with black char paint. Beryl herself didn't feel any different in her before-to-after, but then, she never really felt that different from most moments of her memorable life compared to the next.
??
Her cheek shifted and warped, the fat was easy to stir in place and dimple and crater with little presses. Her eyes were skewed parallel to his own, and Beryl mused on what the look in his eyes meant. Softness, or vulnerability, or weakness, or fear, they were all maybe just re-imaginings of the same general concept.
She couldn't guess, voluntarily so.
"I might be wrong."
She took flight like a butterfly, squirming free with a sudden rearrangement of her geometry in real time. Soft angles became harsh became soft, as she rolled her joints to redraw the grid her body had aligned along. Her arm drifted closer, her head farther, and she at once wore distance and closeness as she put a hand onto Lucas' own shoulder while refusing to provide him further access to her cheek. She lazily drifted to one side, listlessly staring at him still, her expression still different, whatever different even meant.
"Talk to me about... something, Lucas.."
Whatever something even meant.
That was on Lucas to interpret, rather, to derive a meaning from the maybe perceptible shift in how her eyes caught the light and splayed it over the clear of her cornea. Similarly to derive a meaning from the weight of her eyelids and the manicured shrubbery that was the arrangement of her slightly make-up blessed eyelashes, branches thicker with black char paint. Beryl herself didn't feel any different in her before-to-after, but then, she never really felt that different from most moments of her memorable life compared to the next.
??
Her cheek shifted and warped, the fat was easy to stir in place and dimple and crater with little presses. Her eyes were skewed parallel to his own, and Beryl mused on what the look in his eyes meant. Softness, or vulnerability, or weakness, or fear, they were all maybe just re-imaginings of the same general concept.
She couldn't guess, voluntarily so.
"I might be wrong."
She took flight like a butterfly, squirming free with a sudden rearrangement of her geometry in real time. Soft angles became harsh became soft, as she rolled her joints to redraw the grid her body had aligned along. Her arm drifted closer, her head farther, and she at once wore distance and closeness as she put a hand onto Lucas' own shoulder while refusing to provide him further access to her cheek. She lazily drifted to one side, listlessly staring at him still, her expression still different, whatever different even meant.
"Talk to me about... something, Lucas.."
Whatever something even meant.
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TheLordOfAwesome
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Lucas blinked in confusion as Beryl shied way, squirming her way out his embrace. Had he made her uncomfortable, or did she suddenly have second thoughts about all this? Like with all things regarding Beryl's thought process, he just didn't know. So how could he salvage this situation? From his perspective there were only three options:
1: Just give up.
2: Try to work her back into her comfort zone.
3: Just go for it.
Now with two he might be pushing his luck and might just make the situation worse, and he didn't want Beryl to be upset with him. Three, on the other hand, would basically make him teenage Harvey Weinstein and FUCK THAT nonsense. So from what he could see he really only had one choice. So he pulled his arms away from her, and moved away from her completely. Well, this could have gone better, but it is what it is. Now he had to think of something to talk about, but what? Did she even care what the subject was? Probably not, but he did!
Okay... Think Lucas! What could you talk about? Just say the first thing that comes to mind!
"So..." He began, a little uneasy as he tried desperately to think of conversation topic. After a second he figured that he would just ask her a question and see how things got from there. "How's the whole band thing working out for you?"
Thinking on it, Lucas couldn't recall a time he's actually heard them play before. He was always pretty busy with his own projects or just doing his own thing to be honest. Depending on how this conversation goes maybe he could ask to sit in on a jam session or maybe he'll get invited.
1: Just give up.
2: Try to work her back into her comfort zone.
3: Just go for it.
Now with two he might be pushing his luck and might just make the situation worse, and he didn't want Beryl to be upset with him. Three, on the other hand, would basically make him teenage Harvey Weinstein and FUCK THAT nonsense. So from what he could see he really only had one choice. So he pulled his arms away from her, and moved away from her completely. Well, this could have gone better, but it is what it is. Now he had to think of something to talk about, but what? Did she even care what the subject was? Probably not, but he did!
Okay... Think Lucas! What could you talk about? Just say the first thing that comes to mind!
"So..." He began, a little uneasy as he tried desperately to think of conversation topic. After a second he figured that he would just ask her a question and see how things got from there. "How's the whole band thing working out for you?"
Thinking on it, Lucas couldn't recall a time he's actually heard them play before. He was always pretty busy with his own projects or just doing his own thing to be honest. Depending on how this conversation goes maybe he could ask to sit in on a jam session or maybe he'll get invited.
Beryl enjoyed the pause. It seemed relevantly needless, somehow. She let their eyes continue to meet even as the prolonged glance generally became more awkward, as it went in situations that devolved along these particular lines.
She likewise enjoyed the question. It was a sudden acceleration, a vector quantity with a direction, and that direction was a different direction that zoomed off a great distance from any other ground so far explored between the both of them. Change excited, change engaged the mind.
"There will be a band event in a few months!" She contemplated elaborating. Then, didn't elaborate.
"Aria is a pianist..." Beryl wasn't even sure how she remembered that or when she'd learned it. But she supposed knowledge was not the prerequisite to decisions, that she knew well enough from experience! ... "... Did you ever learn a bit of it, yourself? We could, maybe.. play together. Yes, we could. I feel like it might be, inspiring to narrate a song together."
Beryl suddenly drifted back. As a pendulum she swung, from too close to too far to too close again, and the hand she rested on Lucas' shoulder had her temple now resting atop a peak of her two knuckles. Her hair joined over the fabric of his shirt like the meeting of tectonic plates, and as usual that infinitely distracting and numbing cloud of artificial fruity scents that followed the strands of her hair in real time began to pollute the air between them.
She breathed imperceptibly. She was relaxed, and she relaxed further, slowly melding into Lucas' side.
"That's an invitation," she clarified, as suddenly as she'd done everything else she'd done.
She likewise enjoyed the question. It was a sudden acceleration, a vector quantity with a direction, and that direction was a different direction that zoomed off a great distance from any other ground so far explored between the both of them. Change excited, change engaged the mind.
"There will be a band event in a few months!" She contemplated elaborating. Then, didn't elaborate.
"Aria is a pianist..." Beryl wasn't even sure how she remembered that or when she'd learned it. But she supposed knowledge was not the prerequisite to decisions, that she knew well enough from experience! ... "... Did you ever learn a bit of it, yourself? We could, maybe.. play together. Yes, we could. I feel like it might be, inspiring to narrate a song together."
Beryl suddenly drifted back. As a pendulum she swung, from too close to too far to too close again, and the hand she rested on Lucas' shoulder had her temple now resting atop a peak of her two knuckles. Her hair joined over the fabric of his shirt like the meeting of tectonic plates, and as usual that infinitely distracting and numbing cloud of artificial fruity scents that followed the strands of her hair in real time began to pollute the air between them.
She breathed imperceptibly. She was relaxed, and she relaxed further, slowly melding into Lucas' side.
"That's an invitation," she clarified, as suddenly as she'd done everything else she'd done.
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TheLordOfAwesome
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And now she was leaning on him again! This girl is such a freaking tease! She keeps acting like she is into him, then shy away when he got too close! He was a person, not an object, Beryl! There's a person attached to this majestic stallion of a body, you know! But still, he couldn't resist the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulder once more. Like Michael Corleone once said, "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!"
"Well, she tried to teach me and few tunes, but I never got into it." He explained with a shrug. "I mean, I could probably try to remember them and play something. Although I doubt I would be any good."
"That said, we could still do something together. I do have..." He paused for a moment,as if to contemplated his next words. "...Other talents." He could have elaborated on what he meant, but decided to leave the mystery of what exactly he meant up in the air. Not his best line, but it was good enough.
He squeezed her shoulder with a firm but reassuring grip. He chose not to take it any further than that at this moment. He got the feeling if he tried to make a move again Beryl would just continue to play hard to get, then he'd back off, and she'd warm up yo him again. Lather, rinse, repeat. An endless cycle. An ouroboros of attraction. This girl, man! She is making him jump some serious hoops here!
Oh well, this was still fun.
"So if that invitation is still open regardless, I'd happily take you up on it." He said, smiling down at her.
"Well, she tried to teach me and few tunes, but I never got into it." He explained with a shrug. "I mean, I could probably try to remember them and play something. Although I doubt I would be any good."
"That said, we could still do something together. I do have..." He paused for a moment,as if to contemplated his next words. "...Other talents." He could have elaborated on what he meant, but decided to leave the mystery of what exactly he meant up in the air. Not his best line, but it was good enough.
He squeezed her shoulder with a firm but reassuring grip. He chose not to take it any further than that at this moment. He got the feeling if he tried to make a move again Beryl would just continue to play hard to get, then he'd back off, and she'd warm up yo him again. Lather, rinse, repeat. An endless cycle. An ouroboros of attraction. This girl, man! She is making him jump some serious hoops here!
Oh well, this was still fun.
"So if that invitation is still open regardless, I'd happily take you up on it." He said, smiling down at her.