Nor the End

"Hmmnn..."

Sometimes she runs completely off of instinct. Never used her smarts much, anyways—what smarts? Psh. Nice one.

And thus, Lyla finds it in her to gently knock upon the shiny blue door in front. Oh, no, she doesn't have it in her to pester Jay twice in a row: nah, she'd feel kinda guilty. The poor guy's flailing about already; dunking him would add insult to injury, like, ow.

He's probably hiding in his house or something.

Oh come on, maybe give him a little credit? Lyla glances over at the blue-roofed home... oh, he's just outside again... stuffing himself into that funky wet suit of his—right, the thing she saw him in on the day they met. Huh. That thing always sort of creeped her out a little. It just... kinda did. Supposedly he'll go jogging and then, like, do his... cardio? Man. She never asked him what "cardio" even meant. These possibilities...

Ah, but she has something else to do for today! Humiliating Jay is not on the list!

Pon, pon, pon.

Soon after the door is swished open, and the majestic spill of sparkles consumes poor Lyla—oh, too much! Too much sparkles! Too much perfume!—that's perfume, right? So much, yet so elegant, so glamorous: it perfectly frames the unicorn.

Scarlet eyeshadow today. It matches his pants—red jeans... mmh. It's a nice shade of red: dark, but not too dark. And oh, oh her goodness... is he allowed to rock sweaters that well? He shouldn't be. It's killer. It's too much. Lyla just might break down sobbing right now.

Okay maybe she is exaggerating a little. Just go with it. Julian's cool.

"Hm. How nice to see you again." His laughter is soft enough to almost sound like teasing. And yet this whisper fits him so well, fits the mood so rightly. "I admit I wasn't expecting you to return so soon... it surprised me a little." As Lyla kicks off her rain boots, she excitedly follows the lavish blue unicorn.

Past the entranceway comes a curtain, and through the curtain shows his nice sitting area. While the tiles are cold and blue, big, fluffy, white rugs make up for it, placed in considerate areas. There's a nice white couch, there's a big open window in the back, there's a lamp, a couple fortunate appliances—music player in the back—the bed—in the back—of course the bed—and... some baskets of flowers. Hanging by pegs in the upper walls, just around the room.

They smell heavenly; their waxy bodies suggest what might be trapped inside. Lilac beauties once... now encased forever. Alive and yet dead. Funny. Well, they smell nice. Like really nice. Julian's a slight weirdo but who cares when he rocks his sweaters and smells so... so sparkly?

Of course it's possible to smell sparkly.

They ensconce themselves in that lovely couch and Lyla rests her somewhat-misty head. It hasn't started full-out raining, at least not yet, but it was still cold and a little dreary. Her nose stuffed up some. Fun. She wishes she smelled like sparkles, but doesn't everyone? It's Julian's thing, and it suits him well.

Little talks plague their first murmurs. She never really got to know the guy, just that he was one of them... one of them in Marsh, and that apparently someone she might possibly know—even the ditz has her suspicions—more or less "gave" him to the town? Whatever? Does that work? She never knew much about these people anyways... might as well let them get... weirder.

That's all they do, the more she gets to know them... most of them.

The worst part of her strange little relationship with Lucha was... the beginning. Her heart doesn't hurt looking at him; it's not like he's... he doesn't quite fit in with... them. Anymore. No. Once, surely... he did. But somehow the derp was inspired by the girl, and now he's... he really is different somehow. She can't even put her finger on it: not on a feeling in her heart. But it's so strange. So... strangely warming.

Julian must've noticed the weird face she was making. "What is it that's on your mind, if I may pry?"

"Pshhhh, yeah, sure pry on." Lyla can't help but giggle. "I was just thinking about Wherford, honestly. Heh. It's a really weird place, yeah? I swear you Marsh guys knew better than me, and you guys didn't even live here."

A soft, sour smile coats Julian's lips. "Yes. We always had amiable relations with Wherford. I believe it was Freya who found us, invited the lot of you over first, back when everything was still anew."

She asks it before she thinks about it.

"Like... when things were first, I dunno, sprouting?" Small nod. "Like... like when the tree first—"

The deadly look she receives in return both confirms and silences. The breath in Lyla's stomach goes splurt to her toes.

She doesn't have to specify which tree that grew.

Quietly, she asks, "What is it that," more cautious now, "that made everything... how it is today?" This isn't... this isn't... natural. That's it. None of this is natural. It just feels wrong looking at it from the outside: like staring at a monster through glass...

only it's so easy to break the glass... to let it in...

"Nnnh. That's quite a story you're asking for," he murmurs. The scarlet over his eyes flickers with his slight blinking, flickering like the start of a fire. "And besides, I'm sure only Freya knows it all. She and Fauna have been here the longest, I'd say. But you don't ask Fauna those kinds of things." No. Oh no. You don't, do you? Not Fauna.

Doesn't think about it again. "How did it happen, though? Like... is it still happening? Could it happen to..." To us? Could one morning Lyla wake up and suddenly be a... a thing, or whatever?

"You don't know all that much less than I do." Julian's grin turns rueful. A little sad. "If you have so many questions, you should figure them out for yourself, eh? But I don't think it works that simply. You can try. I'll believe in you, if it helps at all."

He's scared.

"Hwah! I'll very kindly accept your belief and burn it as fuel for my journey!"

He's scared of it happening to him. The process, the pain, the... whatever it is. He's scared of finding out more than he already knows.

"Heheh... Yeah, I'll be watching out for you. You're a good one, Lyla. And the others like you too. I have to say thank you for visiting me so numerously..."

He's scared because right now his knowledge is but a puddle, but a starved stream to be standing in. And he's scared of the levels rising and taking him with them, of drowning in it all.

"Of course. You're fun! And it's cool not being the only new one. Plus... you know, you're not... like them. Heh..."

He's scared of never rising to the surface again.

"Thank you, thank you. I must say, Lyla, there's a reason we were brought here. Might be a really bad reason. But I must say it was nice to meet you."

Those aquamarine eyes... they are like water, so bright and bubbly, bouncy. Nonthreatening—Lyla is harmless. She couldn't hurt anything, no. Those hands are too small; her eyes are too full of hopeful light. And she doesn't have enough thoughts in her head to put in a plan to even dream of scratching someone.

She's one of those people.

There are those who easily cut into others without thinking, and those who do the opposite. Lyla is one of those: one of the latter.

That much is obvious, child's play to the eye.

She's too much of a fool to go without wandering into those waters... too much of a fool not to stumble into the wake...

but that doesn't necessarily mean she'll drown, does it? Well. It could. She could. Neither of them know just what they're getting into. Which could be bad. Really bad.

But all that hope in one place... he can't help it. He does like Lyla. She's stupid but she's fun, forgetful but she's smiling, always smiling... emotional.

Interesting. Very.

He can't help but hope she'll show up out of nowhere again...

"Pahaha! Nice too meetcha too!"