Bonfire
| Bonfire | |
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"Sometimes I wish I had a mirror to show people what they aren't as good at seeing, in themselves." | |
| Players | Belmont Cragin Fiametta and Darwin discuss a bit of ballet, a bit of Shakespeare, a bit of the nature of spirits. And potential game night. |
Lunchtime was offered, so lunchtime it is, though perhaps it's a little later in the day than the business lunch hour. The diner isn't deserved, but there's no need to fight through a sea of blue and white collars to find a booth that's in the back corner, relatively secluded. Fiametta might've gotten here a little early, as she's waiting at it, perched a little on the edge of her seat, one long leg crossed with surprising elegance over the other. Today she's wearing a backless halter crop top in a pale blue and white pattern, with low rise jeans, platform heeled boots peeking out below the cuffs. Her bright copper hair is tied back in a ponytail of waves and curls, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head, totally forgotten about at the moment. She's looking at her phone, mild mannered, but she's definitely had to give a few people the staredown when they've wanted to encroach too close. The elegance of her posture and pose, however, is quite ruined by the fact that she bounces one foot regularly to spin off excess restless energy. But would anyone say anything to her about it? Not yet! It doesn't take Darwin long to spot the shock of red hair in the corner. "Fi," he greets, sliding into the booth and tucking his work bag against the wall. He immediately reaches for the menu. "This place is addicting," he murmurs. "The sausage is just..." He kisses his fingertips. "Oh, hey, thanks for covering the tacos," he grins, sitting back and flicking the menu out. "So. Theater?" "Yeah it is," Fi enthusiastically agrees. "You tried the Polish pancakes yet? They're kinda like crepes, I guess. Those are really good too. If you're in a breakfast for lunch mood." Apparently she's a regular--she doesn't look at a menu at all. She waves a hand. "They're good and cheap, and I always have cash to burn," she says quietly, with a smile. But at the mention of theater, she straightens again. "Well, Shakespeare anyway. One of the local ballet companies, they're doing a series inspired by the plays. I mean, I guess that's not unusual. But. It's be nice to understand the stories a little before I go. Not that I think the dancers won't do a good job, I just don't want to seem dumb is all." "I am never not in a breakfast-lunch mood." Darwin readily locates the recommended pancakes on the menu, and rattles off his expansive order when the waiter comes by. "Oooh, are they? Man, ballet is so complex. Those people have real skill. But yeah, I can see where you'd want to understand all the subtext. Subdance." Darwin waves his hand. "Listen, even the experts debate Shakespeare's messages. You won't sound dumb." He drums his fingers against the edge of the table. "Where to start, though..." He pauses. "Have you done ballet before? Or are you an enthusiast?" "I have season tickets to one of the companies," the redhead explains. It may be a little shocking. "Most of the time Razi comes with me, unless he's got something else going on. I don't even have to drag him. I used to do ballet and modern, when I was a kid. It helps a lot, with making some of the acrobatics look pretty and all. I thought once I'd like to do it professionally, you know? But life got in the way. And then so did a lot of other things. We covered some of the stories before I dropped out, in English. So like...Romeo and Juliet. Mid-summer's Night Dream. Um....and Hamlet too. But all the rest, I'm kind of clueless on. Some are easier to figure out than others, that's for sure." "Ahhh." Darwin nods, folding his arms against the table. "Yeah, I remember going over them in English. Honestly thought I'd never think of them again, but, as you say, /life/." He smiles. "I know nothing, /nothing/ about dancing but you certainly showed aptitude. Bet you'd kick ass if you picked it up again." Thoughtfully, he folds one corner of his napkin before meeting Fiametta's eyes. "I can go over Othello and The Tempest, and if I haven't completely bored you to tears by the end of it, we can go over the mainstays. I'll keep them concise." "For ballet?" Fi offers Darwin a surprisingly gentle smile. "I think that ship has sailed. I'd be way too old to enter training now even if I wanted to, but it's just not the life for me, anymore. I don't mind dancing the way I do now. At least at Satin I can do whatever the fuck I want. And nobody's gonna tell me I can't tell a little story with it, even if that's not really what people are looking at." Her smile turns fond. "We even got people dreaming of arials and stuff. I bet they'll pull it off with a little help." She settles back then, thoughtfully. "And OK. But that means you gotta let me take care of lunch then." "Arials? Oh, with the ribbons? That'd be /wild/." Darwin shakes his head. "You got the tacos! Granted, you allied /against/ me at the lake." He clicks his tongue, shaking his head gravely. Darwin begins to talk at length about the tragedy of Othello and the themes of jealousy and manipulation. He explains the politics and misconceptions of The Tempest, the enduring love of Antony and Cleopatra, and sneaks in his own opinions here and there. It's not as dry as it /could/ be, as Darwin genuinely seems to love his field. Fiametta doesn't interrupt him as he speaks, listening quietly as the food is delivered. She doesn't get much, but the strawberry milkshake she does get is /enormous/. The fiery redhead seems to study Darwin as much as she listens, stormy blue eyes taking him in. One could easily imagine her sitting at the front of her classes, in truth. Like so many who slip through the cracks or away from completing their education, it's not really about a lack of intelligence in her gaze. Eventually though, he needs to pause, and she urges it here and there so that his food doesn't get too cold. "You're a good teacher, Darwin," she says to him eventually. "I can see why you're doing what you're doing. Maybe some of the students would like the ballet collaboration too, you know. I'm sure there's student rates too." Darwin is clearly pleased to find a captive audience in Fiametta. He loves his students to death, but it's high school, and most of them just want to get through the day. Understandably. He clears his throat at the natural pause in his lecture and leans back, looking over his pancakes and sausage. "You're too kind," he says, softer but warmer, cutting off a big slice of pancake. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll let 'em know. Give 'em some extra credit if they go. They've been working pretty hard on our park play-- Mmmph, this is good," he says of the pancakes. "We're doing a rendition of Tam Lin. I asked Miel to play as an extra before I knew... about... anything." He winces lightly, a quick, silly grimace. "He seemed amused at least. We'll be out there at Ogden Park every Saturday for a month, if you're interested." "What's Tam Lin?" Fiametta asks almost immediately, after taking a long sip from her milkshake. "Is that a play about--oh no wait, the weird lady is Tammy Faye. I met Miel the other night. He seems pretty nice. Quiet. Though I dunno if he really is. People think Jiji is quiet too before they get to know him, too." She looks up at Darwin as he invites her. "You mean to watch?" she asks. "Sure, if I can. Daytime?" She stirs the shake with her straw. "I think Razi and I are gonna have a game night soon. You guys like board games and stuff? Though I guess there might be a card one or two. Depends on who's there and what they like." "Tam Lin is a Scottish ballad about a mortal woman saving her true love from the queen of fairies. Daytime." Darwin pauses and can't help but smile a little at the shear /size/ of Fiametta's milkshake. "Miel's nice, yeah." He blinks. "Jiji..." His face lights up. "Ji-Ho? That's cute. He's pretty clipped with me, big ol' wall there. I really botched that one," he sighs, jabbing a fork into a sausage link. He perks right up at the mention of game night. "Oh? Really? Miel just /wrecked/ me in a board game, read me like a book. Happy to come, so long as I'm not, like... I don't know, invading the space." For one who works in a profession where appearances are probably heavily scrutinized, Fiametta is not at all self-conscious or concerned about sucking down that delicious milkshake. "I wouldn't recommend calling him that probably," she admits. "But maybe he wouldn't mind. It's just that--I think he got spooked about you telling him that you thought he was something else. Like out loud and stuff. I think. Sometimes that really scares people. Especially people like us. Too used to hiding and stuff. I don't know that it scared me, but I was worried about you too. That you'd say something to the wrong person. Or worse, around the wrong person and like...help someone be found out who really didn't want to be." She flashes a smile at him, briefly. It's not that the smile doesn't reach her eyes--but perhaps there's just enough sadness in them briefly to dim it. But like most things Fiametta, the emotion passes quickly, easily turned into yet another. About as opposite of the temperate and deliberate Razi as could be. "I guess you're almost kind of like one of my boys," she says quietly, observing him, though it's said almost to herself. "You'll probably know just about everyone there," she laughs. "And maybe it would be nice for Javi to not be the only non-lost there. Will you ask Miel too? Though I don't know if he'd like a more party type of gathering. But I don't think you'd be invading the space. And you should bring a snack to share." She picks up a spoon, to spoon up some of her whipped cream. "Do your people sit around and just talk about what they are and their um....hairy business stuff when they get together? Most of the time we don't. Lots of people don't remember much and it's...maybe some people do talk about stuff that only involves us, but. There are better times to do that, than when you're trying to have fun." "It'll just be Ji-Ho," Darwin promises. "I'm not taking my chances with nicknames. I learned that he liked peaches and I'm holding on to that sliver of trivia." He only nods as Fiametta elaborates on the very real perils of life outside... the place... The thing. Darwin doesn't know shit. "I'm sorry. I really am. There are things that hunt and prey upon us, but... nothing like..." Darwin gestures vaguely in Fiametta's direction. There's nothing left if his smile, until Fiametta manages to stir it back up with her /boys/ comment. "Aw. Aww." His gaze falls to his mostly cleared plate. "I'll ask Miel, sure. And bring a snack." Then Darwin laughs, probably louder than he means to. "Hairy business... Uhm. I suppose with us it's... more of an identity we're born into, and there's not... the issue of memory..." His smile fades again as he stumbles through his awkward explanation. "It's different. I don't know much about the lost, but it's different. But I don't say anything anymore. I don't ask. I don't dig." "Sometimes there's not much to say even if you dig," Fi reassures him. "Everyone is so different. I only remember little flashes. Kinda like memories you have from when you were really little? Sometimes they come in dreams. Especially when something happens that causes a ripple. Or is a reminder of something even if you don't know it. I don't always even remember the things I remember. They're there for a little while and then they're gone again. But that might just be me. I think Razi might have had to help me be more human again, when we came back. I don't think I was very human at all, when I was there." This doesn't seem to trouble her at all, not being human. "You're very sweet, Darwin. And you have a good heart. And there's a couple of people that I care about a lot that care about you. I think you're pretty easy to love. I just don't want anything to eat you alive; though I bet you're a lot tougher than most, huh? I'm not the best person to ask for information, I'm sure you can already tell that. But I won't get offended if you ask something. Might tell you I can't say. I figure that's fair, maybe, if you help me learn how to not look like a dropout." She flashes him a brief smile. "Yeah, I'm gathering that the memory thing is a bit of a barrier. Like a piece of cement your claws hit when you're on the trail and the soil's getting nice and soft," Darwin laments. He watches Fiametta for a quiet moment as she generously elaborates on dreams and ripples. "That must be frustrating. Being on the edge like that." Darwin dips his chin, grinning and shaking his head slightly. Such compliments! "I would not consider myself particularly /tough/. Half moons are envoys. Negotiators." He tips his head back, studying Fiametta, thoughtful. "Hey, I'm happy to expand on any theater topic, no charge." Fiametta's offer for info is met with a mild look of unease. He glances briefly towards a passing waiter, suspicious. "I... It's not necessary that I know things. Probably safer if I don't." "Not like secret secret stuff, silly." Fi crinkles her nose at him. "But sometimes there's little questions here and there. That maybe you don't wanna ask someone who's shy." She rolls her shoulder in an easy shrug though. "Negotiators," she says, though, curious. "Like negotiators with spirits and stuff, or like other kinds of people?" She narrows her eyes at him, thoughtfully. "Are there really all kinds of spirits up into everything? So like, you could be trying to brush your teeth and a pissed off water spirit could come out of the faucet with the water? Are they just around all the time watching you?" Her expression is empathetic. "No wonder you were so jumpy when I first met you. That sounds creepy as fuck." It still doesn't prevent her from eating all the rest of the whipped cream that's on top of the milkshake. Which is now near the bottom of the glass. "Or is that something I shouldn't know because then some big dude might kick me in the crotch or like rip me apart or something. I can't even eat corndogs anymore, now." And she narrows her eyes ever so slightly at Darwin. As if this is somehow partially his fault, for being of the same people as Flint. Darwin laughs, sharp and brassy. "You know, some people have been coming at me with their vague idea of how spirits work lately and I treasure /every/ interpretation. Honestly, I should probably write some stuff down. Javi and Solomon wanted to know. Yeah, usually half moons are sent to sort out agreements, make connections, prompt ethical debates... either between wolves or spirits. I was jumpy because you could've been one of--!" He drops his voice. "One of the Pure. They're terrifying." It takes Darwin a moment to realize who Fiametta is referring to. He grins. "Spirits don't /belong/ to wolves. We just happen to be half spirit. They effect everyone, and thus a /danger/ to everyone, as you probably gathered from the meeting." Darwin folds his napkin and swipes away the ring of water left by his cup. "The Shadow remembers emotion. Unless that faucet was used as a murder weapon or something, it wouldn't have a spirit. Spirits usually born from strong, emotional events. They can be concepts, like a spirit of love, or objects, or animals. Sometimes places. Can you guess what that O'Leary cow is born of?" The striking redhead leans forward as he drops his voice. "Do they always like fire?" she wants to know, eyes huge and lit from within with little embers of light. But she doesn't linger there, taking another slurp of milkshake instead. "If you're half a spirit," she asks him, eyes still wide. "What were you born of?" She tilts her head, examining him carefully, with perhaps an unsettlingly direct gaze. Though perhaps it's less so now, to him, now that he knows her a little. And has had that gaze leveled at him more than a couple of time. "No wonder there's something beautiful about you." Were it said differently, or by another person, it could just be a cheesy pickup line. But there's a certain gravity in how she says it, before she drains her milkshake--completely with brief obnoxious empty-straw sound. But then she sits back, contemplatively. "Fear? Or sadness maybe? Of all the people who got their shit burnt up in the fire? Or someone who really really /really/ wants to burn everything down, again." That seems to evoke some kind of memory inside her, and she closes her eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a quieting breath. "The Pure?" Darwin blinks, caught in those wide eyes. "If the Fire-Touched tribe actively worships flames, I imagine they do so for the symbolism of purging "filth" in the name of truth. Or something crazy like that. Speculation, here. I'm not an expert on those psychopaths. They want us dead." His slight grimace eases under Fiametta's gaze, even if's a little intense, but her following comment prompts a little fluster, a fumbling of silverware. He turns his head to look /anywhere/ else, cheeks burning. "Oh, well," he says in a lighter voice. "Hah, uhm." His gaze tracks back to settle on that straw. "Gosh, Fi, beautiful?" he finally manages, smiling. "In my case... In /our/ case... We're descendants from two spirits. A spirit of warding, and a spirit of hunting. Amahan Idu-" He pauses halfway through an odd, growly word, then shakes his head. "I can't pronounce it properly like this. Mother Luna and Father Wolf." Darwin taps his temple at Fiametta's answers. "Yeah, all of the above. The prolonged suffering caused by the disaster. I mean, I /assume/. I haven't actually seen the thing." He tilts his head as Fiametta closes her eyes. "You good?" "Yeah," she says, about the beautiful. But her voice is even softer than usual, a little sad, perhaps, with echoes of some other emotion not as easily identifiable. "Sometimes I wish I had a mirror," she offers, "To show people what they aren't as good at seeing, in themselves." His reddening, tugs a smile to her lips. "Don't worry," she says gently. "I'm not propositioning you or anything." But she looks thoughtful, as she processes both the information on the Pure, and then Darwin's explanation about Mother Luna and Father Wolf. "Oh, so that's of your people then. Not that each one of you has your own spirit you came from." This seems to be as logical as anything else. She seems pleased, though, that her instincts are right about Burning Cow. "Would you be able to tell, by looking at it? Or would you just see a...burning cow thing?" But then it's her turn to look a little uncharacteristically shy, at his last question. "I am. It's just a memory I have, one of the strongest. I was laughing and screaming and everything around us was burning. I think I scared Razi a little. But I /loved/ it. I don't think these pure people experience that, though. Otherwise like...the burning would have never stopped, I don't think." "That is so sweetly poetic, Fi," Darwin says, entirely genuine. He nods once. "People don't have Shadow reflections. No... counterparts, on the other side. That includes wolves." "A wolf would be able to tell the difference between a spirit and... something else." Darwin lingers in silence for a moment, pondering the possibilities. "All spirits have a ban. Some kind of compulsion or limitation that they're bound to. If you figure it out, you can thwart the damn thing until it runs out of essence and has to shrivel back to the Shadow. But the more powerful they are, the more complex the ban. Bet you anything that O'Leary brand is tied in somehow. Checkers would probably know more, he's a crescent moon. Spirit master." It's then that his words trail off and soften, as he realizes they're still in a diner, and he might be freaking some eavesdropper out. "That's quite a memory," Darwin says, softly. "Maybe you were at a big bonfire--? Was it from before...?" "No," Fiametta shakes her head, her voice strangely hushed. "It's from the time there. Maybe right before we came out. I think. It wasn't a bonfire, though. That I know too." But her reverie ends, and she looks thoughtful once more. "So--you have to figure out what to give it, to make it go away? Or it might have things that...won't let it cross into certain areas?" But at the mention of Checkers' name she nods. "I remember him talking a little bit about that. About the company symbol I think. I mean everything was interesting but by the end it was hard to focus." She smiles at him apologetically. "With something that powerful though, don't you need to figure out those bans or else it'll just keep popping up again, right? Then it's just a matter of making sure it can be carried out. The bans I mean." During. Everything on fire /during/. Darwin seems /intrigued/, but he doesn't press for more. On the topic of bans, Darwin's features twist as he attempts to articulate the nuances in a way that's not... too confusing. Because, admittedly, spirits are confusing as fuck. "It's usually a thing that hinders it, distracts it, makes it flee or prevents it from attacking. The go-to example is how a spirit of joy cannot harm anyone that begs it not to, or a fire spirit may not cross flowing water. And yeah, they'll absolutely keep popping up again. But they can be hunted, killed, devoured for essence." He flashes a quick smile and snaps his teeth. "That was Father Wolf's job, and now it's our job. Thankfully we're not alone out here. Other weirdos seem eager to help." Darwin might've continued this long, convoluted lesson if he hadn't glimpsed the clock behind the counter. "Crap, I gotta' get back to class. I'll let Miel know about game night," he says, reaching for his bag. "Hmm." Something about the devouring seems to trigger yet another memory, though this one is much more rooted in the present. "So /that's/ what that big guy was on about, when he was drinking the nasty fountain water," she says, her eyes lighting briefly. "I'll have to ask Misha about it later," she decides. But when Darwin notices the time, she smiles. "Thanks for meeting me here, Darwin. And hopefully we'll see you both for that night. And maybe I'll check out the saturdays too." She pauses for a moment, looking over at him solemnly. "Take good care of yourself, okay?" | |