Magicks, yeah, they write angst...or they try to, anyhow. Not sure how
successful they'll be, though we're all working on a story right now. Oh,
and this comes from a reliable source: therapy doesn't help
Later that night, he let himself back into his apartment. The evening had followed all expectations up to and including his mother lamenting the fact that her eldest son had yet to give her grandchildren. In between hints and offers to introduce him to the 'nice young daughters' of her friends, his siblings had proven that they had as sharp memories as ever, and as sharp tongues. It hadn't been starting Talismaniac.com and being friends with Sly that had sharpened his mind to the extent it was; that was all his family's doing.
They had had ample ammunition tonight with his distraction. Regardless of how many times he dragged his mind to the present, the people surrounding him, and what was being said, it continued to drift back to the exchange with Sara earlier. The flirting was nothing new; Gabriel flirted with every woman he came across; it was a part of him, his personality. Sara was more withdrawn, but Gabriel had drawn her out with his teasing, giving her an out for the playful side of her nature that she normally couldn't show.
Tonight there seemed to be another element to it. She had been more hesitant than normal, as quick with her comebacks as always, but softer somehow. Unsure of herself. Reaching up to absently hold the necklace he still wore, he considered it. Had it been the gift that caused her to be like she had or was it something else? Maybe an bad day at work; she had mentioned an unexpected meeting. She'd had bad days before, though. Sometimes they left her completely wiped, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Other times she was tense, almost frantic in her need to get things just right. Never had she been hesitant. Until now, hesitant and Sara Pezzini was a combination that just didn't go together.
They still didn't mesh well in his mind. Sara was. Sara. Self-assured and strong, tough when she needed to be, someone who walked into danger as a part of her job. Someone who could take care of herself and had for more years than she'd been an adult.
So why did he feel an overwhelming need to protect her? To be there for her so she didn't have to be strong?
It was nothing that he would be thanked for. Knowing Sara, she would fight tooth and nail against it. He didn't know a lot of her past, just pieces she let slip through in idle conversation and things he picked up by asking subtle questions. What he did know was that she couldn't remember her mother and that her father had died years ago, when she was nine or ten years old. After that she lived in the wonderful foster care system where she had met Maria, her closest female friend until her death. He'd never met Maria, but had seen pictures of her in Sara's apartment as well as things Sara said had belonged to her. Beautiful without a doubt, but from small comments and a little digging of his own, he knew she was diametrically different from Sara.
Sara, regardless of or perhaps because of, the struggles she had endured and the sadness that haunted her green eyes, looked towards the good. She saw the better sides, the hopes, instead of just the fears and violence. It was one reason, he suspected, that she had become a cop. She wasn't just following in her father's footsteps; she was doing her best to help with the chaos and insanity that plagued the beautiful but dangerous city she called home. It was something she had been doing even before she joined with the Witchblade. The weapon had a mind of it's own, but it couldn't change someone's basic nature. The battles she fought with it were battles she would have done her best to fight without it.
It was something he knew she'd shrug off if he mentioned it to her, so he hadn't. Sara was uncomfortable dealing with emotions and things like that. She examined her own life and her own reactions, what person didn't? But for another person to. That wasn't allowed because it made her uneasy to think that someone knew her that well. That someone had put that much thought into what she did and who she was. It wasn't that Sara didn't connect with people, she was just private. It was a privacy he respected, not asking questions she couldn't or wouldn't answer and knowing that she wouldn't ask him any. If he needed to talk about something, she was there, but it was his choice.
Maria, from what he had been able to find, had been a known drug addict, someone who looked for the next best thing to make her feel good. If she was anything like some of the addicts he had known, she was stuck in a cycle of hopelessness and desire. Not physical desire, but wanting to be close to someone, wanting to fit in with everyone. The drugs had helped her in that goal to an extent but for the most part, they had also alienated her from people. The feeling of control she had when she got high before.became a feeling of being controlled and not able to break loose even if she wanted to.
When he had first read about Maria in the newspaper articles, Gabriel had wondered why they were friends. Two women on what seemed like opposing sides. He hadn't asked, not wanting his friend to know that he had looked up her friend. Once he had gotten to know Sara well, something which was almost frighteningly easy considering how much was left unsaid, he had decided that loyalty was a large part of her feelings for Maria. Sara was one of the most loyal people he knew. Loyal to herself, to her own path and ideals, and to those she called friends. She was private enough to call few 'friend' and be able to really mean it, and those she did were measured in her own mind. He knew that he himself wouldn't be considered normal to be friends with a cop. Sly still had trouble believing it at times.
But he hadn't become who he was by bowing to what others thought or believed. Many of the people he went to school with had considered him and his interests weird. That hadn't stopped him then and it wasn't going to stop him now. The best anyone could be was who they are and that was half the battle right there.
Just like what he knew about Sara was half the battle. It was important and he'd be able to gauge some of her reactions, but it wasn't everything. Knowing about the walls she placed between herself and other people just let him know some of the obstacles that had to be torn down. It didn't help him with the actual tearing.
He chuckled and flopped down in his office chair with the can of soda he had grabbed from the fridge. This was making Sara sound like a medieval fortress under siege. Proof that he'd been working too much, perhaps, automatically giving things ancient connotations. But it still fit with what he knew about her. Maybe it was her connection to the ancient weapon she wore and wielded, but it fit. In his research regarding the Witchblade, he had learned who some of the past wielder's had been. Because the weapon supposedly gave Sara visions, albeit that was an unconfirmed theory, it stood to reason that some of those visions and past lives still affected her. How could you know the past, your own past lives, and not be affected by it?
Well, fortress or no, he'd manage to break through. He had as much practice at that as she'd had of putting them up. A click of his mouse cleared the screensaver from the computer screen and he checked his email to see if there were any inquiries or orders while he was gone. There were two new orders and he printed out the information to work on the next day. His mind wasn't particularly on his business even if he was at the computer. Pulling up a website he rarely used, he scrolled a bit before picking one of the choices available. Grinning as he placed his order, he then pulled up the site he had book-marked earlier. It was only 11:30, still early enough to get some of his research done if he could concentrate on it. Picking up his remote and turning on his music a bit lower than normal in respect for his neighbors, he began his research with one part of his mind plotting his siege.
Let the games begin.
Short, I know. Sorry, but there should be more in a few days if my muses cooperate by writing the middle before jumping to the end!
Later that night, he let himself back into his apartment. The evening had followed all expectations up to and including his mother lamenting the fact that her eldest son had yet to give her grandchildren. In between hints and offers to introduce him to the 'nice young daughters' of her friends, his siblings had proven that they had as sharp memories as ever, and as sharp tongues. It hadn't been starting Talismaniac.com and being friends with Sly that had sharpened his mind to the extent it was; that was all his family's doing.
They had had ample ammunition tonight with his distraction. Regardless of how many times he dragged his mind to the present, the people surrounding him, and what was being said, it continued to drift back to the exchange with Sara earlier. The flirting was nothing new; Gabriel flirted with every woman he came across; it was a part of him, his personality. Sara was more withdrawn, but Gabriel had drawn her out with his teasing, giving her an out for the playful side of her nature that she normally couldn't show.
Tonight there seemed to be another element to it. She had been more hesitant than normal, as quick with her comebacks as always, but softer somehow. Unsure of herself. Reaching up to absently hold the necklace he still wore, he considered it. Had it been the gift that caused her to be like she had or was it something else? Maybe an bad day at work; she had mentioned an unexpected meeting. She'd had bad days before, though. Sometimes they left her completely wiped, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Other times she was tense, almost frantic in her need to get things just right. Never had she been hesitant. Until now, hesitant and Sara Pezzini was a combination that just didn't go together.
They still didn't mesh well in his mind. Sara was. Sara. Self-assured and strong, tough when she needed to be, someone who walked into danger as a part of her job. Someone who could take care of herself and had for more years than she'd been an adult.
So why did he feel an overwhelming need to protect her? To be there for her so she didn't have to be strong?
It was nothing that he would be thanked for. Knowing Sara, she would fight tooth and nail against it. He didn't know a lot of her past, just pieces she let slip through in idle conversation and things he picked up by asking subtle questions. What he did know was that she couldn't remember her mother and that her father had died years ago, when she was nine or ten years old. After that she lived in the wonderful foster care system where she had met Maria, her closest female friend until her death. He'd never met Maria, but had seen pictures of her in Sara's apartment as well as things Sara said had belonged to her. Beautiful without a doubt, but from small comments and a little digging of his own, he knew she was diametrically different from Sara.
Sara, regardless of or perhaps because of, the struggles she had endured and the sadness that haunted her green eyes, looked towards the good. She saw the better sides, the hopes, instead of just the fears and violence. It was one reason, he suspected, that she had become a cop. She wasn't just following in her father's footsteps; she was doing her best to help with the chaos and insanity that plagued the beautiful but dangerous city she called home. It was something she had been doing even before she joined with the Witchblade. The weapon had a mind of it's own, but it couldn't change someone's basic nature. The battles she fought with it were battles she would have done her best to fight without it.
It was something he knew she'd shrug off if he mentioned it to her, so he hadn't. Sara was uncomfortable dealing with emotions and things like that. She examined her own life and her own reactions, what person didn't? But for another person to. That wasn't allowed because it made her uneasy to think that someone knew her that well. That someone had put that much thought into what she did and who she was. It wasn't that Sara didn't connect with people, she was just private. It was a privacy he respected, not asking questions she couldn't or wouldn't answer and knowing that she wouldn't ask him any. If he needed to talk about something, she was there, but it was his choice.
Maria, from what he had been able to find, had been a known drug addict, someone who looked for the next best thing to make her feel good. If she was anything like some of the addicts he had known, she was stuck in a cycle of hopelessness and desire. Not physical desire, but wanting to be close to someone, wanting to fit in with everyone. The drugs had helped her in that goal to an extent but for the most part, they had also alienated her from people. The feeling of control she had when she got high before.became a feeling of being controlled and not able to break loose even if she wanted to.
When he had first read about Maria in the newspaper articles, Gabriel had wondered why they were friends. Two women on what seemed like opposing sides. He hadn't asked, not wanting his friend to know that he had looked up her friend. Once he had gotten to know Sara well, something which was almost frighteningly easy considering how much was left unsaid, he had decided that loyalty was a large part of her feelings for Maria. Sara was one of the most loyal people he knew. Loyal to herself, to her own path and ideals, and to those she called friends. She was private enough to call few 'friend' and be able to really mean it, and those she did were measured in her own mind. He knew that he himself wouldn't be considered normal to be friends with a cop. Sly still had trouble believing it at times.
But he hadn't become who he was by bowing to what others thought or believed. Many of the people he went to school with had considered him and his interests weird. That hadn't stopped him then and it wasn't going to stop him now. The best anyone could be was who they are and that was half the battle right there.
Just like what he knew about Sara was half the battle. It was important and he'd be able to gauge some of her reactions, but it wasn't everything. Knowing about the walls she placed between herself and other people just let him know some of the obstacles that had to be torn down. It didn't help him with the actual tearing.
He chuckled and flopped down in his office chair with the can of soda he had grabbed from the fridge. This was making Sara sound like a medieval fortress under siege. Proof that he'd been working too much, perhaps, automatically giving things ancient connotations. But it still fit with what he knew about her. Maybe it was her connection to the ancient weapon she wore and wielded, but it fit. In his research regarding the Witchblade, he had learned who some of the past wielder's had been. Because the weapon supposedly gave Sara visions, albeit that was an unconfirmed theory, it stood to reason that some of those visions and past lives still affected her. How could you know the past, your own past lives, and not be affected by it?
Well, fortress or no, he'd manage to break through. He had as much practice at that as she'd had of putting them up. A click of his mouse cleared the screensaver from the computer screen and he checked his email to see if there were any inquiries or orders while he was gone. There were two new orders and he printed out the information to work on the next day. His mind wasn't particularly on his business even if he was at the computer. Pulling up a website he rarely used, he scrolled a bit before picking one of the choices available. Grinning as he placed his order, he then pulled up the site he had book-marked earlier. It was only 11:30, still early enough to get some of his research done if he could concentrate on it. Picking up his remote and turning on his music a bit lower than normal in respect for his neighbors, he began his research with one part of his mind plotting his siege.
Let the games begin.
Short, I know. Sorry, but there should be more in a few days if my muses cooperate by writing the middle before jumping to the end!