Reunions
| Reunions | |
|---|---|
Grant Park | |
| Players |
Fiametta gets back into town. |
"And so Barnabas got away, and I accrued debt for no purpose at all." Razi has been telling Fiametta a bit about the latest session of Court that was rather dramatically interrupted by the return of a long-absent former member of the Freehold, and how Razi invoked a contract with the Goblins, only to have his target slip away before he could use it properly. A particular annoyance. It's contrasted by the fact that he's also eating an ice cream cone as they walk through one of the prettier paths in Grant Park, enjoying the bright, warm weather over his lunch break. Even serious sorts enjoy ice cream, you know. He can't help it if ice cream is delicious. "A few went off in pursuit, at least. I haven't heard whether they've been successful. The whole thing's a mess. Everyone's getting paranoid now." There's a little flash in her eyes, perhaps partially in empathy for quarry slipping right through one's fingers, but Razi knows the mercurial storms that often roil in her better than most. A little bit of anticipation, of a coming hunt as well. "Better than a /boring/ court, " she decides, thoughtfully. "If they'd caught him you'd think the gossip would have flooded back by now," she admits. "Mm." It's possible that she too at some point had a frozen treat too--though it's been long consumed. It's already balmy outside, and she's gotten in the habit of wolfing cold things down at a pace that would make a gristlegrinder blink, lest they melt in her touch. It might have drawn some eyes. But after a sweet lick of her thumb, she does clean up well, and one would never expect it of the willowy redhead now. She frowns at him though, gaze lingering. "You've been safe though?" she asks, quietly. A head full of sun-kissed copper hair is usually the first thing that people notice about this young woman, an effortless wavy tumble that will fall to her mid waist unless gathered up, kissed with gold in the right light. Pale skin is almost luminous, though there’s a little sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose to warm her. Stormy dark blue eyes regard the world at a somewhat dreamy distance, though her emotions flash through them unrestrained, their intensity sometimes unsettling if it lingers. Her build is on the slim side of conventionally appealing, just enough curve to draw the eye of those who appreciate such things. There’s a certain restlessness about her, as if she needs to be on the move. Hair of seemingly living flame tumbles about her shoulders and to her waist unless bound, casting a radiant and shimmering glow around her, augmented by pale skin and the gleam in her eyes, her emotions as quick to shift as a wildfire’s path. Her footsteps are heralded a soft crackle and crunch, not unlike the sound of a bonfire just starting to catch, or footfalls through fallen dry leaves. Small embers briefly appear in her wake, mottled reds and oranges, browns and dark greens as if the fire from within her cools to hues of autumn. Set. "Court isn't boring," Razi tries to insist, but he's the one who /likes/ all the subtler, quieter stuff. He has managed to consume his ice cream slowly while /also/ keeping his hands pristine. He's magic. "But yes, I guess you could say it was /eventful/. Although the Queen's reaction was a bit...worrying." His brow creases a bit. His Concern about Queen Marybelle is not new, even if Fiametta's been away for a while. If there is a Team Thomas amidst the Freehold, Razi likely quietly thinks they may have a valid point. At her question, though, he looks aside at her with a small hint of a smile. "I've been safe," he confirms for her. It's a regular mantra traded back and forth between them over the years. (/Especially/ since the attack last year.) Safe? Safe. He's quiet a moment, eating another bite of ice cream. And then he asks, "How's Destiny?" There's a flash of a smile at his protest, and one that lights her eyes and casts more playful embers at the edge of her being. It might make his ice-creamy just a tad more melty. But there's more playfulness than predator in her smile, and she looks at him with an unguarded fondness that would probably shock anyone who's been around her on the periphery. "Eventful," she accepts the correction with good grace. But she grows more thoughtful at the mention of the Queen. "Oh? How so?" she asks quietly, almost in a whisper. When he asks about the dancer she's been trailing over the summer, there's a softening of her harsh light and sharp edges. Gently she touches his elbow--not the one holding his ice cream, lingering there for a moment. It's respectful, though familially intimate. Literally a touching of the base. "She's so beautiful, Razi," That too is spoken in a voice only just above a whisper. "When she dances there's not a sound until it's over. But she's safe, too. When they are in tour they're together, and the lights are bright." How many times over the last few years has he sometimes waitied with her in the darkness, watching the young mortal walk back to company dormitories after the performances are over and the crowds dispersed, until Fiametta was convinced there wasn't anything waiting there? "They didn't have any programs to bring back." "Mm." Razi considers a moment how to best respond to that particular question. "She was in a particularly...Spring sort of mood," he finally decides. "She found Barnabas's appearance quite /amusing/. Didn't want anyone making a fuss about it. Certainly had nothing to say about his claims." They're all details he's filed away to turn over in his mind ad nauseum, looking for the truth of it all. But he allows himself to move on from the topic now that he's asked her about Destiny. His features soften a touch in turn as he looks aside at her. "Good," he says, voice firm there. Destiny is not /his/, but, somehow, she also is. The family of family. Again, he's quiet, not hesitating as much as considering his words. And then he finally begins, "Are you still sure you don't want to...?" He doesn't finish, but it's a question he's asked before. Deal with your fetch. Take your life back. All of it. He's never /judged/ her for her path -- god knows that his moving them to Chicago to stay close to an ex-girlfriend he's never reunited with gives him no room to judge -- but he always worries. > +rs < You have claimed Fiametta as a randomscene with description of 'Yay fambly!!'. You will both receive a beat if they +rs/approve your claim. Fiametta can hardly be the first to judge another for being somewhat flighty and unpredictable. "Mm. Perhaps just in front of everyone?" she ventures reluctantly, of the reaction of downplaying serious claims. "Or perhaps some other tie?" But she shakes her head slightly. Usually she's one of those pointed at the problem target, rather than puzzling out anything, and she knows it. Her cheek brushes his shoulder. Perhaps a tell of her own uncertainty--as well as an empathy about his ex. Fortunately now that she's between jobs and it's the middle of the day, he doesn't have to worry about makeup on his suit. But that brief touch of affection and glean of comfort settles her. "No. She's happy, in a way that I can't really truly understand. I was her age when..." she trails off. "Maybe someday. But there'd be more questions than answers." Indeed, were anyone to see them together now, it'd be difficult to say who was the elder one of the two, most likely. "She doesn't need to be burdened. Or have even more attention drawn than has to be. I just couldn't--I'm not strong enough to stay away fully, like I should." "Maybe," Razi allows, although he doesn't sound particularly convinced as of yet. But perhaps their strange Queen is a topic best continued another day. He provides a solid place for her to lean, and his jacket is already off and sleeves rolled up in deference to the weather, so any mess would have been on his dress shirt, anyways. "None of us stay away from what we should. It's just...how it is. Something about our nature." That strange, alien quality that has become part of them. The undeniable need to cling tight to the last vestiges of their humanity. He knows. He does the same. "I don't blame you," he finally says, and she knows him well enough to know that his mildness is earnest. "The questions are impossible." "Sometimes I wonder if I have one," she says quietly, of a fetch. "Maybe it's already destroyed. Maybe if that was the case and she found out--" Her breath escapes in a soft huff. "Though that would bring even more questions, I guess." She squeezes his arm, just a little. "We'll get yours, next time." Fiametta whispers, her eyes flashing with confidence. "If you want." She smiles up at him. "So aside from /eventful/ meetings...did you get to do anything else fun, while I was gone?" The subject of his own fetch is a sore spot, an itch he hasn't been able to successfully scratch. But at least he took his life back, for the time being. The line of Razi's mouth /barely/ twitches at her question, which is practically a beaming smile for him; it's just that his humor is funnier when he keeps it contained. "You, you know me. I only have fun when you're around to make me fulfill my quota." Not actually deadpan, just so mild as to be indistinguishable from truth for most people. "Actually, I went the aquarium the other day. You should be very impressed. Did you know it's full of fish?" "Please tell me you got a t-shirt," Fi teases him, wrinkling her nose just so at the bridge of it. She pokes him with a manicured nail, as if she's certain he's probably got it on right underneath the dress one. "Too bad they probably don't have any socks." But then she shakes her head, giving him a teasingly sad look. "Oh dear, that sounds like a problem. I would have guessed it was mostly /water/. Sounds kind of crowded. But I /am/ very impressed, Razi. Well done." Her giggle is musical, and bright, and full of genuine warmth that brightens the light around her. "I did not get a t-shirt," Razi says mildly. "Or socks. Even if they had socks -- which I don't know, because I didn't check -- I couldn't very well take the honor away from you. You'll have to just go find out yourself." Maybe there are fish socks there. WHO KNOWS. He eats another bite of ice cream. "I did, however, pet a ray. At the insistence of an unnervingly cheerful twentysomething aspiring EMT." There's a pause. The slightest -- wrinkling of his nose? Maybe. "I saw him later and he gave me his number." She knows him well enough to probably recognize that the nose wrinkle isn't about the twentysomething in question, but more likely being forced to navigate the complex maze that is Razi's dating and/or sex life. He can be a bit particular. Or then, on occasion, a bit inexplicable. "What's wrong with twentysomethings?" Fiametta teases him, especially once she sees /that nose wrinkle/. It's teasing, but gentle. "He must have been cute. And he's not afraid to get his hands dirty." Coppery brows lift a time or two. If Razi's is a maze full of inexplicable twists and turns, hers is often diffuse and meandering, the boundaries between friend and lover and enemy and alluring acquaintance moveable and malleable, her sensuality just as driven by a deep wish to give or receive comfort or grounding as it might be by passion, and rarely contained. And sometimes less intimate than a simple touch. "And he got you to have some fun too! I like him already." "They're very young," Razi says matter-of-factly. It's not that he's /so/ old, and the truth of his age is a complicated matter, as it is for many Changelings. But even legally, he's closer to 40 than he is to 30 at this point. "One, I haven't said anything that would imply he is or isn't cute. Nothing about being at an aquarium, studying to be an EMT, or being some sort of manta ray whisperer implies anything about what he looks like. Two, I don't really think putting your hand in the water to touch a ray is really all that much /getting your hands dirty/." He slants a look at her that's the /tiniest/ bit exasperated, but in a particularly familiar way. "/Three/, I never said I had fun doing it." "Yes it is," the Elemental counters, speaking in a /perfectly/ calm and reasonable way. If Razi didn't know better, he might even get an inkling that she might purposefully be trying to do a Razi impression. "Think of all the manta ray spit and waste that was in that tank. Or sloughing off from the fish or whatever they eat." See? Perfectly, perfectly logical. "You /didn't/ think he was cute then?" she asks, eying him apprasingly. "You /looked/ like you /thought/ he was cute. With how you said that." As playful as she is, she's also watching him, ready to brush that aside immediately if any real ripple of darker emotion were to rear its head. "Maybe when you call him, you should invite him to do something that /is/ fun, then. For you too." "Well, I'm not saying you shouldn't wash your hands afterwards," Razi reasons. "Just that it's a bit different than -- I don't know, farming. Murder. Those sorts of things." Totally the same. He shoots her a /look/ for that impression. Her counter-logic. "He's not unattractive," he says, allowing her this /small/ concession. "I just don't know if he's what I'm looking for. Anyways, I doubt our ideas of fun are particularly aligned." She seems to accept this with tender respect, a softer smile flickering across her features. "Maybe it's just not the time yet to know," she decides. This seems normal to her, after all. "And that may be so too. No harm, no foul. Or you might find something new that's fun. Or see him discover something that's new-to-him fun," she points out. "That can be lovely just in its own right." She watches the playful dance of the water fountains, though there's an inhuman glimmer in her stormy blue eyes when it looks as if the streams are chasing each other, in an endless hunt--until she turns away to gaze at Razi. "Besides, you're not adventure-adverse. Remember when you came with me to go roller blading?" Though perhaps 'came with me' sounds...a little more enthusiastically voluntarily than it probably should. "I remember you /abducting/ me into rollerblading," Razi says, which balances her words by suggesting more resistance than there likely was. He glances over at her, though, considering her other words, and then looks back ahead at their path as he considers them. "I don't know how you do it, Fi," he finally says. "It's just not as simple for me." "You had a /little/ fun, surely," Fiametta turns those big blue eyes on him, as dancing as they are cheekily with embers, it probably ruins the innnocent effect she's going for. "You weren't even that bad at it once you stopped doing that squatting thing." Or, perhaps he had fun seeing /her/ experience something new and embrace it. But you know, surely learning how to glide around with wheels under your feet might come in hand someday. Surely. But her expression changes to one of affectionate and deep tenderness--the bond she feels for him revealed openly for a moment. "You're you, Razi. I adore /you/. I'm just me. There's a lot that people don't like or understand about me, or things that hurt them. Sometimes I wish I could change that, but I think a lot of it was part of me even Before. I love that you're careful and considerate, even if it's not what someone might wish to hear at that time. You do know, when the time comes. You don't need to keep anyone else's timetable. Not /ever/ again." There's an edge of ferocity in her last words. The promise might not be spoken aloud, but there's whispers of it even so. "Well. Don't tell anyone, but I usually have at least a /little/ fun with you," Razi admits in a /very/ surreptitious voice. For him. Surreptitious for him. Which is like -- the slightest hint of it. But her earnest, fierce affection does ease some of that tension. "I don't know about considerate," he says. "But I suppose I can't deny careful." And the subtle tug of his smile is warm, there. His ferocity is just as deep, as she's well seen. It's simply kept on a closer teash of control. "It's our secret," Fiametta says with both the vibrancy of her young human side, and the whispery solemn promise of her inhuman side. She reaches up, to straighten his collar, just a little. "But...don't overthink this thing, Razi," she tells him. This too is a part of loving, if familial banter. Probably said as much to him as he might have found himself saying "Don't be too hasty," though perhaps not always in those exact words when trying to hold back a literally flame-headed young woman. "And probably, I should let you get back to work. I just needed to see you, now that I'm back." The last is a softer, admission, but also one that is likely a comforting routine by now. "I've just a few things to do before I head home. Text me, if you /don't/ want dinner, or if I should prep or save plates for more?" "I would never," Razi says, and that one /is/ a deadpan. HE NEVER OVERTHINKS. But he does lean over to press a kiss to her head in a rare show of affection before he sighs. "I'm not going to be bringing anyone home for dinner, Fi," he says. "But I'll see you later tonight." | |