From its ominous place in the evening sky, the moon looked out upon SS
Ecstasy. Its overcast glow dimly lit the wooden deck planks, creating
ominous monsters from the shadows that haunted the deck as the warm yet
cool twilight zephyrs crept past. Amidst this picture-book scene, the
silhouette of an admirably masculine figure could be seen- black against
the majestic colors of dusk. His arms lay crossed upon the railing of the
promenade deck, and head was tilted curiously, as if he was looking at
something, which, in fact, he was: the stars.
Orlando Corvello Lorenz hadn't planned on coming on the school-sponsored cruise, primarily because he still hadn't completely overcome his hydrophobia in regards to the ocean and such. Instead, he had planned to spend the summer revitalizing that small mountain cottage he had had when he attended school in Maine during the time of the cruise, and then, somehow, still spend time with Faithe (Although he had owled her everyday that the two hadn't spend together thusfar this summer, the simple letters exchanged weren't enough), who would be training nearly all summer, save the time of the school cruise. Yet, somehow, those plans had become contorted when the Headmistress owled him several days into the cruise and informed him that his chaperoning presence was necessary since one of the other professors had been called away, and that, if he valued his job, he would be there within the next day. ((I needed a reason for Orlando to be on the cruise since he wouldn't have come of his own free will))
Thus, after packing a small suitcase, he had come out to the ship on a smaller boat, and had, that evening, arrived on board the SS Ecstasy. The first thing he had done had been to get himself situated in his room; professors were given the single staterooms on A deck, the same deck as the just-graduated seventh years. After throwing his duffle bag upon the bed, he had gone off in search of Faithe's stateroom, wanting to surprise her. Not having had time to write to her, Orlando had left the young woman completely in the dark as to his being on the ship. As far as she knew, he was still in Maine, probably re-roofing the cabin or something of the like.
Amidst the brilliant orchestral performance echoed by the celestial heavens, the dazzling counterpoint chorale enchanting the man was heightened as his eyes waltzed over the constellation Orion; Orlando smiled to himself, recalling how Faithe had told him it was her favorite constellation. The view of the night sky from the ocean was marvelous. Without any city lights interfering, the lights in the sky were ten times more abundant. Their splendor and number was only aided by the fact that this particular night was cloudless.
In addition to the magnificent stars glowing on the serene canvas of the dark nighttime sky, a comet, which Orlando recognized as the Holloway Comet, had chosen to grace the young man with its spectacular presence. The icy ball of rock gracefully pierced through a dark corner of the sky like the sharp cry of a trumpet fanfare breaking the calm air of a quiet morning. Its remarkable tail followed, surrounding the core with an aura of elegance.
Again, a soft smile crossed the man's face as he breathed in the sea air. Growing up on the Hawaiian coast, the salty ocean smell was more than welcome. Averting his gaze from the sky, he turned around and lifted himself upon onto the railing, half-hoping to see Faithe's shadow as he flitted his eyes nonchalantly about the deck.
Excitement flitted through Faithe's body as she finished getting dressed after her shower, drying her hair quickly. Dressed in a light blue, Hawaiian skirt that fell to her ankles, and a white tank top, Faithe slipped on her flip flops. Tying her hair back with a white ribbon at the nape of her neck, she left her room quickly. Making her way up several flights of stairs, the jittery feeling in her stomach increased.
She only got slightly agitated when one of the workers stopped her. A handful of stewards were walking around the ship handing out leis to random people. Instead of the traditional necklace lei, Faithe was given a halo of flowers, which she placed on her head to appease the steward. Nodding politely, she continued her way to the top deck.
Earlier that day, she had been sitting out in the lake under the protection of an umbrella, when the date suddenly struck her as familiar. After searching like a mad woman through her books, Faithe had confirmed her suspicions that there was, indeed, a comet that night. Ever since then, excitement and felicity had been surging through her all day.
Now, after much impatient abiding, Faithe had finally reached the top deck. Stopping as the breeze hit her face, she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The smell of the salt water was something she was learning to get used to, but it was refreshing. Opening her eyes, she stepped out to the middle of the deck, stopping as her gaze shifted to the sky. Catching the glimmer of the Holloway Comet, a smile spread over her lips. Biting her bottom lip, she looked around for an abandoned railing.
Finding one, she walked over to the cold metal, leaning against it. Hanging her arms over the cylinder, her gaze once again rose to the heavens. Smiling as she spotted Orion, her brown eyes became mesmerized in the three stars, all lined up to form his belt. Shifting her gaze to the comet, a look of fascination crossed her face as a small smile played on her lips. Sighing, she looked down at the water for a moment before she became hypnotized by the bright light, slowly drifting across the darkness. I wonder if Orlando is seeing this...
And, then, like an answered prayer, the brilliant blue eyes of Orlando Lorenz caught sight of a shadow sauntering towards the main deck. A broad, excited grin came over his face as the figure followed it and turned towards the deck railing opposite from him. He had known the shadow's identity as soon as he had seen it, but seeing the figure to which it belonged was still welcome. As his eyes wandered along Faithe's body, a quiet gasp escaped his lips; he couldn't help but think that the young woman had somehow gotten even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.
Slowly, and, above all, quietly, Orlando began meandering across the deck towards her. Seeing her there before him only made the man realize just how much he had missed her thusfar. True, it couldn't have been much more than a few weeks since he'd seen the woman, but it had seemed like an eternity for him. Nearly silently approaching her, he watched as her eyes flit from the sky down to the water below and then back to the sky once more, and his grin softened into a warm smile.
Once he was close enough, his left arm wrapped itself slowly around her waist and his head rested itself momentarily upon her right shoulder, breathing gently against her neck. Reaching his other hand up, he laid it upon her far cheek and turned her head towards his own. Lifting his head off of her, he leaned around her body, gazing into her eyes for a bit before kissing her warmly for a rather extended moment. Finally pulling back, he dropped his hand onto the railing and took a step to stand beside her.
"Hi," he breathed, with an almost unbelieving sort of grin upon his face. "I've really missed that.
"And you, too, of course," he added, grin transforming into a mischievous sort of smirk.
Sighing, her head tilted slightly to the side as she stared at the sky, completely oblivious that Orlando was within a hundred miles of her. The past couple weeks had been torturous for her anytime her eyes found the night sky. The past school year had been filled with so many nights star gazing, but she hadn't been alone during those many late night hours. She had gotten so used to Orlando's warm body next to her as they pointed out constellations, comets, and anything else they spotted. However, lately she had been staring at the sky wondering if he were doing the same.
Jumping slightly as an arm wrapped around her waist, Faithe's insides froze as a head rested on her shoulder. Recognizing the figure, she blinked for a moment, not moving. That's rich Faithe...You miss Orlando so much that you're hallucinating that he's here. Feeling his hand touch her cheek, an almost apprehensive look crossed her face before he kissed her. Closing her eyes, her body melted into him as she kissed him longingly. When he pulled back, a small objective sound escaped her throat as her eyebrows furrowed together in a sulky pout.
Returning the warm smile, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes gazing into his, "Hi." Her voice came out softy, and barely above a whisper as she reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. Laughing softly as he expressed how much he missed their kisses, she wrinkled her nose slightly as she stuck out her tongue. Shaking her head lightly as he added his little afterthought, Faithe gave him a look of unbelief.
"Orlando, what are you doing here? On a boat...in the middle of a bunch of water..." Grinning, she pulled her head back slightly to keep herself from going cross-eyed. Letting out a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, "It doesn't matter! I can't believe you're here! I've missed you so much sweetheart."
((This is quite short, and exceedingly retarded- Surry. [u]Dos[/u] ought to make up for it, though.))
Leaning into her hand, but still keeping their foreheads touching, the man delighted in the sensation of her skin upon his face, something that he had felt only in his dreams for the longest time. The smile upon his face seemed inerasable as his eyes met hers. It was always that way with Faithe though. Save a few inopportune situations out of their control, there wasn't ever a moment he was with her that a smile didn't at least tug at the corners of his lips. She made him happy. He felt warm, loved, content and perfectly completed.
[quote]"On a boat...in the middle of a bunch of water..."[/quote]
Reaching a finger up, he placed it upon her lips.
"Shh," he breathed with a slight laugh, "Don't remind me about it. I'm just out here because I'd like to keep my job for another few years."
As she coiled her arms around him, his own arms surrounded her waist and, pressing her against his chest, he lifted her a few inches for a moment, jovially spinning her around before returning her to the ground and keeping his arms around her. The feeling of her being in his arms again was wonderful- something he'd missed even more than the taste of her lips.
"I've missed you, too," he whispered, "More than I ever thought possible."
Pulling back, he allowed himself a moment to look into her soft brown eyes, shaking his head.
"You see Holloway's Comet up there?" he asked, gesturing towards the sky.
Seeing his face soften with his smile, her grin melted away, replaced by a loving intensity. Her brown eyes carried an expression of sincerity and devotion as her thumb rubbed his cheek lightly. Moving her hand around some, her fingers began toying with his hair, wrapping it around her index finger gently - another habitual act of hers.
Everything within her, her heart, soul, and mind, felt more than complete as she cherished his nearness, and that smile. It was true when it was said that you never know how much you miss somebody or something until it's taken away, and then when it's given back to you. Orlando was her better half, her everything. Being away from him for so long had been almost unbearable. The two weeks after school when she had been transported to the East Coast, and knowing that after this Cruise, she'd be torn away from him for two more weeks made her feel almost desperate to be near him once more.
After those two weeks, though, she would be back in New York, near him, if not with him. That thought had been what had gotten her to go through with this. That, and she had come to value eating and having a roof over her head, so she needed to do it.
Laughing softly about his reasoning for being on the ship, Faithe shook her head in mild amusement. "You're fine sweetheart. Besides, look at it this way, just about any observatory would be willing to hire you after discovering your comet." Nudging him slightly, she wrinkled her nose as she grinned. Hearing him tell her that he missed her caused a small sigh of relief to escape her lips. Not that she doubted him, but she just assumed that he probably had too much on his plate to really think about her much.
Nodding as he pointed to the sky, a small sparkle flashed in her eyes. "I almost busted my butt in the shower trying to get up here so quickly. Are you here for the rest of the cruise?"
Faithe's remark about any observatory being willing to hire him was an incredible understatement. Since he had patented La Strife de la Foi, not a single day had passed where he hadn't received at least one letter or owl from a scientific society pleading with him to come work with them. There had been letters from every organization from the Ministry's department of Interplanetary Magical Relations and the muggle world's NASA to the tiniest research groups in both realms, but Orlando hadn't taken up a single one of them, and no one except him knew why. The man was strange like that, though; and this strangeness was evident in every aspect of how he reacted to discovering the comet.
He had gone about patenting the ball of icy rock in a highly unorthodox manner. He'd gone to a small observatory, put his name on the least amount of paperwork possible, not named it after himself, not publicized his discovery, politely refused interviews from science magazines and such, and, overall, not let his discovery affect him at all. After the hype about the new comet had died down, he'd continued getting pleas offering money, private research facilities and all the treasures any astronomer may have spent his or her life searching for. Orlando didn't accept a single offer though. In fact, he didn't even discuss the offers with anyone, not even Faithe. Instead, after reading through them and writing back a polite refusal, each letter was set neatly into a large box and there it sat. It was true that he could have used the money, and undeniable that the thought of having his own research facility intrigued him, but, taking all things into consideration, he eventually refused.
Taking any of those jobs would have brought him into the market of Astronomical Physicists, something that, although well renowned, wasn't exactly favorable to the man. He was certain that if he took that path, his abandoned family would want back in his life, if only just to get their share of the money, despite their already immense wealth. After the last day of his seventh year, he had simply picked up his things and left for the Cepheus School of Astronomy in Maine without so much as a "good-bye". Neither of the two parties had been too upset by this decision; contacts were severed, and it seemed more auspicious to both that way.
Not only would such a decision have opened that bolted door, but it also would have torn him from Rosencrantz, and his teaching there. Although he could have easily accepted a professor position at numerous universities across the world, there was something about the school that he just couldn't leave behind. Perhaps it was the plethora of memories lurking between every wall and in every classroom, but an intangible force seemed to hold him there. He knew that Faithe wouldn't be there the next fall, that he would still find himself reasonably ostracized from the rest of the staff, and that money would continue to be tight, but he didn't mind. Teaching was a passion of his, as were the heavens, and he couldn't think of a better place to pursue such things than Rosencrantz. It was on safe, welcoming, and tranquil in its place on the outskirts of Manhattan, and he couldn't ask for anything more.
"I like the job I have," he replied in a tone that wasn't threatening, but signified that he wasn't about to change his mind any time soon, if ever.
Noticing the way her breath took the form of a relieved sigh after he told her that he had missed her, a questioning look covered his face for a moment.
"What?" he teased, "Thought I wouldn't miss you?" Rolling his eyes slightly, he offered a small laugh.
"Impossible," he whispered.
[quote] "I almost busted my butt in the shower trying to get up here so quickly"[/quote]
Grinning at her comment, he raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Yeah, I'm stuck in the middle of thousands of gallons of water with my life in the hands of this little piece of metal's buoyancy until it gets back to port," he answered with a sigh.
"As long as I don't think about it, though, I should be alright.
"Can you do me a favor?" he asked, pulling back just slightly, as though he was going to ask her something important.
"Promise you'll keep me distracted."
Grinning, she tufted his hair lightly, sticking her tongue out, "I like the job you have too. I'm very proud of us too, Orlando Corvello Lorenz, we managed to be together and keep your job." Leaning forward, she rubbed her nose against Orlando's lightly, just as she and Kaytlin always did.
A half-smile spread on her face as he teased her. "I just figured you would be really busy this summer. Too busy to bore your mind with thoughts of me." Her half-smile faded from her face, but was replaced by a smile filled with warmth as his reassurance.
Seeing his inquisitive stare at her shower comment, she grinned. "I was shaving, and had my leg propped up on the side of the bath. I was trying to hurry, and my leg slipped. Luckily I didn't cut myself, but I did almost fall." Winking, she bent down and lifted her skirt to her knee, "But I am nice and smooth now."
Hearing him express his partial fears of being on the boat, she smiled softly at him. "You're fine sweetheart. Everything is perfectly safe."
Raising her eyebrow, a flirtatious grin spread over her face. "Keep you distracted, huh?" Stepping closer to him, so that her body was right up against hers, she brought her mouth to within a centimeter of his. Dropping her voice to a low purr, "What did you have in mind?"
"Me, too," Orlando replied, smiling as her nose touched his own. It was true, too. The number obstacles that they had overcome was rather impressive. They'd manage to hide their relationship from the school, control themselves in public, and yet still allow their relationship to bloom into something completely beautiful. And, now, after this cruise, they would finally be able to come completely clean to the entire world about who they were to one another. No more secrets, no more hiding. Thinking of how hard they'd worked all year long, Orlando began to move to look around, remembering that they were still on a school trip where he ought to still be the teacher, and Faithe the student, then stopped. She had graduated, and there wasn't anything against their relationship now. Besides, hidden by the darkness of the night sky, their silhouettes would only look like a pair of students, nothing too conspicuous on a trip such as this.
Chuckling, Orlando's face got a mischievous look in it at her comment about his thinking of her. He had had more than enough time to think about her. Throughout the long days of repairing the Maine cottage, he'd never lost thought of her for more than a few moments.
"I can assure you that 'boring' is hardly the word I'd use to describe whatever thoughts I had of you in Maine, ma Foi," he whispered, dropping to that lower octave that he hadn't used for quite awhile.
Throughout her recollection of the shower incident, Orlando's face wore an amused look, accented by the warm smile upon his lips and the entertained sparkle in his azure eyes. Shaking her head as she lifted her skirt, the smile broadened into one of his boyish grins.
Seeing the flirtatiousness contort Faithe's innocent face into an almost sultry one, the man knew what was coming. As his intuition proved correct and her body pressed against his, Orlando removed his hand from the railing. Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he ran them slowly and tantalizingly down her back; when they had nearly reached the conclusion of her spine, he linked his fingers together and pulled her tightly against him. Smiling at her as her warm breath blew across his lips, he felt his stomach nearly fall out from under him. She's too good at this.
"This works." he whispered back, still holding his voice down in the low octave.
((I'm listening to Completely...**sigh**))
"Of course, it still wouldn't be too smart to walk up to your fellow teachers, particularly the headmistress, and admit that you've been having a relationship with your Head Girl. They could still fire you...possibly." Reaching up, her fingers intertwined with his soft hair, her head tilting slightly.
Watching him look around, she smiled. "Everybody is at the deck party, it would be odd to see somebody else up here." Sliding her hand from his hair to his cheek, she smiled warmly at him, adoring the way he was. Everything about him still captivated her.
((**giggles** I just realized you called Orlando a she...Ha ha! So did I! In my post previous to yours!))
Smirking, she raised her left eyebrow, "So, what did you think about when you were in Maine?" There was a mischievous curiosity about her as she looked at him expectantly.
As she leaned against him, she'd had every intention of pulling back, but her objective had been erased from her mind as his hands ran down her back. Her eyes closed for a moment, opening when his hands hooked around her. Allowing herself to be pulled closer, a small shiver ran through her body. Her knees felt as if they were about to melt as he spoke in that baiting tone. A small half smile crossed her face at his words, her brown eyes seemingly growing darker.
"It does..." Whispering softly, her half smile melted into one of adoration and love. "Of course, you do still owe me a game of dominoes..." Reverting back to the joke on the train to Manhattan all those months ago, a playful smirk crossed her face.
((**runs off to change gender issue**))
Smiling as though he were drunk as her fingers wove themselves through his dark locks, Orlando merely shrugged at her comments about him being fired. They'd lasted this long, and he wasn't worried about anyone finding out now. Besides, as she had said, no one in their right mind would be out stargazing when there was a party going on.
The drunken smile turned into a devious smirk at her question about what he had thought of in Maine. Closing his eyes, as though he were recalling such feverish fantasies, the man let out a chuckle before looking back at her.
"Domino games," he replied in a voice that suggested that, if one didn't know the English language, would have suggested something rather, well. suggestive.
With her body pressed so tightly against his, Orlando felt the tiny shiver ripple through her body and grinned with the slightest bit of satisfaction. However, at her soft whisper, which seemed almost like a purr to his ears, the grin faded and was replaced by a smile at her mention of their forgotten "domino games".
"You'd better hope no one's watching us, Miss Cunningham," he whispered, never once allowing his stare to falter as his azure eyes remained locked into her dark brown ones.
Unwinding his fingers from each other, he wrapped one arm completely around her waist while the other hand slid tauntingly up her back and hooked onto her shoulder for a moment. After lingering there for a moment, it slipped around her arm and behind her neck, fingers slightly caressing her skin as his breath softly brushed her face, gentle as a morning zephyr.
"Because I do believe that, should someone stumble across us, this scene would be most incriminating to your perfect record."
As much as Orlando longed to lean in and kiss her, satisfying the burning lust building within him, he didn't. He would wait for her to crack, making him the victor in their little teasing battle.
A reverent smile crossed her face as Orlando's lips curled in that smile. the smile that always seemed to cross his face when she tussled with his hair. Which, she noticed, was becoming a habit of hers. Her face tilted curiously as he closed his eyes and she stuck her tongue out when he didn't really answer her question.
[quote] You'd better hope no one's watching us, Miss Cunningham[/quote]
"Why? Ashamed of me?" Winking to show she was teasing him, a mischievous grin played on her lips. As his hand slid up her back, however, the grin melted into barely a smile, but more of a pleasurable expression. Closing her eyes, she felt her knees almost give out on her, her neck tilted slightly as his hand massaged it. Opening her eyes, a shiver ran through her body as his breath tickled her lips.
At his words, her lips curled up in a grin as a soft laugh escaped her. Shaking her head, she stared at him adoringly. At this point, she really didn't care where her credibility stood with Rosencrantz. She had graduated, they couldn't do anything to her. However, she did worry about Orlando's credibility, and his job. Even if she had graduated, she had still been his student, and they would find someway to find out that they had been together while she was his student.
"I don't care about my perfect record, sweetheart." Sliding her finger gently along his jawline, she smiled at him. "I'd give up anything for you. Even if it incriminates my 'perfect record'." Unable to handle the distance much longer, though there was hardly any space left between the two. Leaning in, and wrapping her arms around his neck, she closed the distance between the two. Kissing him, she wrapped her arms around him tighter, almost scared that he'd be mean and pull away from her for the sake of teasing her.
"Ashamed of you?" Orlando repeated with an incredulous air to his voice. "I'm hardly ashamed of you, [I]ma Foi[/I]."
Although he had known full well she was just teasing him, the man couldn't pass up such a prime opportunity to shower the impressive young woman before him with compliments. She knew full well that he adored her, but there wasn't a doubt in Orlando's mind that she would have a problem hearing such words escape his lips again.
"You're accomplished, intelligent, compassionate, strong, determined and motivated. You just graduated as Head Girl at the top of your class. And, as a charming additional benefit, especially for yours truly, you are absolutely beautiful."
Allowing his voice to trail off, there passed a moment in which, had he not been so adamant about holding to his resolve not to kiss her first, the man most certainly would have pressed his mouth to hers. Yet, he resisted the impulse, instead allowing the shiver that passed through Faithe's body satiate him for the moment.
[quote]"I don't care about my perfect record, sweetheart."[/quote]
Shaking his head, Orlando decided he'd have a better shot at winning the silent battle if he relinquished his gravity and, like Faithe, split the tension with light-hearted conversation.
"Mm-hmm," he replied sarcastically, "You're an Athenian, Faithe; your perfect record's right up there on your list of 'most prized possessions'. right after me, of course."
Feeling her finger bourée along his jawline, the man's eyes closed for a moment and that drunken smile crossed his face once more.
"I know," he whispered back, reverting to a somewhat serious tone, "And I'd do the same for you."
It was definitely a good thing, in Orlando's mind, at least, that Faithe had moved to kiss him right then. Otherwise, the man was sure he would have broken.
One hand ran along her back while the fingers of the other entangled themselves in the loose strands of hair of her ponytail. Kissing her back, the man almost smiled through the kiss. He'd missed her, truly and madly. Now, standing on a boat in the middle of nowhere, with her in his arms, the man was reassured that they were meant for each other. If he had spent an eternity apart from her, thinking of her incessantly, and still felt so strongly about the young woman, there wasn't a doubt in his mind.
Gently pulling back after a brief while, he rested his forehead upon hers and let that boyish grin take over his face as a small laugh escaped his lips.
"I won."
((*cues Tealyr Montague's entrance from stage left*))
"One of these days, I swear to God, I'm going to become an (expletitive) murderer...I'm going to hang these (expletitive) brats by their toenails off of the (expletitive) stern..."
Growling underneath her breath, Tealyr Soleil Montague lethargically ascended the steps onto the deck. There were deep circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, which had made her even more disagreeable than usual. And, perhaps, disagreeable is an understatement. Quite an understatement.
A cigarette rested firmly out of the corner of her mouth as she climbed the steps. Only another hour of peace before she had to attend to her teacherly duties--namely patrolling the halls for those in violation of curfew. You would think that being the headmaster's daughter would allow her to enjoy her summer--but no. You would think that being the flesh and blood of one of the most prestigious headmistresses in the history of the school would allow her to spend her summer someplace nice, where she could just get away from it all, temporarily forget the fate she was doomed to...but, evidently not. Instead, she had to be subjected to the torture that she endured the rest of the year, where nightmares and reality had become one and the same. Brats, brats, brats...filthy, stinking, obnoxious Satan spawn everywhere she turned...Oh, the horror...
Taking out her wand, she lit the cigarette and took a deep drag off of it. Replacing her wand in her pocket, the woman paused as she passed the top stair. The night was calm and balmy. How picturesque, how calming, how uplifting--how disgusting. Her brown eyes flitted over to the party that was going on at the end of the deck. She was definitely going to steer clear of that area. Students...packed into every square inch...chattering and giggling...bumping and grinding...ugh. However, the large attendance at the party meant that the other areas of the ship were probably fairly empty...maybe, just maybe, she could finally get five minutes of peace and quiet...
She plucked the cigarette from between her lips, holding it between her index and middle fingers. A few dark brown strands of hair lingered over her face, occasionally moved by an evening breeze. Casually, she began to prowl along, looking for something to relieve her feelings of despair and worthlessness. There was nothing better than some good, old-fashioned discipline to relieve stress. Aha! Students kissing on the deck! Smirking malevolently, she quickened her pace as she walked over. The night cast everything in shadow; the perfect kind of atmosphere for the mayhem that, unknowingly, would commence as a result of her unusual discovery.
"Mmm mmm mmm," she mused as she approached them,"Teenage lust. How touching...One problem...the Cruise is supervised, by teachers, nonetheless. Identify yourselves...now."
Faithe's face turned a bright shade of red as his compliments met her ears. Her face lowered slightly as she shook her head, that bashful smile on her face. Lifting her eyes, but keeping her head down for the most part, she shook her head a little bit more firmly.
"You're such a good liar..." Reaching up, she pinched his cheeks gently. Laughing at his comment, she grinned. "Yes, well, my perfect record does mean a lot to me, but I'd be willing to give it up for you. Of course, it's underneath you." Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out at him playfully.
With his forehead on hers, her hand reached up and laid gently on his cheek, her eyes remaining close. After a few moments, and after his declaration, she opened her eyes and grinned, an impish expression in her eyes.
"I let you win. I figure, why not? I'm already up on you." Laughing softly, she rubbed her nose up against his. Of course, she was only partly being serious. Had she tried to hold out any longer, her knees would have given out on her.
Identify yourselves...now. Everything in Faithe's body came to a halt, including her breathing. It wasn't until she felt her head getting dizzy that she remembered to breathe. This couldn't be happening, not now. Swallowing hard, she stood up straight, almost afraid to look in Orlando's eyes. She knew she should turn around, but Faithe just couldn't bring herself to do it.
Returning Faithe's soft laugh with an Orlando-y grin, the man nuzzled his forehead against hers, wondering how he'd lasted this long without her.
Hearing Tealyr's familiar, authoritative voice proclaim their doom, the man's stomach dropped out from under him, instilling fear throughout his entire body. 'This can't be happening...' Warily, his eyes flitted past Faithe, focusing in on the young woman's recognizable figure and reassuring himself that he wasn't hearing things. A horrible sort of terror ensued upon him just then, comparable to that which he felt when he had entered his house every evening as a boy; he knew he would be punished, but how?
A plethora of thoughts was dancing through his mind. The almost comical irony of the Head Girl and the Head of Athena being busted for kissing on the deck, the twisted irony of the woman seeing them being Tealyr and, most of all, how he was going to get out of this mess.
The most obvious solution to their problem would have been simply for Orlando to apparate the pair back to his stateroom or something. It would have been easy enough; after all, Faithe was already in his arms. However, this thought didn't even occur to him as he stood there, not quite moving and barely breathing.
Keeping the eerie silence in tact, he shared a worried glance with Faithe before gently guiding the girl to the side of him, still allowing her to shield her face from Tealyr's gaze if she so desired, but placing his own face clearly in the woman's view. His eyes held a look of terror while the rest of his mien was unreadable, almost vacant, as he waited for her response, knowing that, because of their past, the events to come wouldn't be pleasant ones at all...
Hand on her hip, Tealyr had gone to take a drag from her cigarette at the exact moment when Orlando's face came into view. She was so shocked that she forgot to exhale and ended up swallowing smoke. Chest heaving forward, she broke into a coughing fit, pounding her chest with a fist as her eyes remained as wide as saucers.
"Lorenz?!" she choked out, coughing some more. Breathing deeply, she stood back up and her eyes narrowed. "I mean, Lorenz," she quickly spat in a much more unpleasant tone. It was Orlando Corvello Lorenz...Ooh, she wanted to just cringe at the name. She had spent the previous years of her teaching career trying to avoid this man at all costs...and she had just intruded upon him kissing someone under the stars.
Her eyes flitted over to the young woman in his arms, still facing the other direction. How embarrassing, she thought, smirking internally.
Taking a step forward, she looked from Lorenz to the woman and back to Lorenz again. With a bit of a bewildered smirk, she studied the young woman- -or what she could see of her--in his arms. She gave a bit of a snort. Well, she wasn't in uniform, so she didn't think that she was one of the staff members...And she didn't think she was a teacher from another school-- if she was, Tealyr would've already met her...Wait...wait...wait a minute...was that a student?!
She noted the look of horror in the other Professor's eyes. Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, she tilted her head slightly. "What is going on here?" she demanded in a low, deadly, though awfully confused, voice.
Orlando hadn't even wanted to come on the cruise in the first place for a plethora of reasons. This particular situation, however, hadn't been one of them, but was, by far, the worst thing that could have happened, save, maybe, him finding out Faithe had snuck around and ended up with a male roommate and not even thought of him once. Knowing the latter to be an impossibility, his mind concurred that, indeed, [I]this[/I] was the worst thing that could happen.
Waiting and watching the woman's reaction, the man merely stayed put. Intuitively feeling Faithe's fear, he allowed his arms to shelter her, covering her as best he could and doing a remarkable job of keeping her identity unknown to Tealyr for the moment. Mentally recalling their joke about her perfect record and their good standing with the school, Orlando closed his eyes, almost believing in jinxes for a minute. This was precisely what he had feared, what he had tried so hard to prevent that morning when he'd told Faithe that they couldn't continue.
Yet they had somehow pushed that thought out of their minds and used their combined intelligence to preclude such a disaster. Throughout the entire school year, they'd managed not to even let the slightest hint of their relationship creep into the open, keeping it locked behind his door and hidden from prying eyes out on the hillside he'd taken her that first night. Now, all that work was for nothing. He had known there were too many risks like this; not only could their relationship hurt him, but it could also ravage the girl's credibility with the school as well as her peers and her family. Even so, looking back, he knew that he wouldn't have changed the decision he made that morning to be with Faithe. She'd brought too much good into his life. There had to be a way around this mess.
Watching as Tealyr recognized him and listening to her words, the man's look of terror transformed into one of slight bewilderment. If taken literally, her question had been redundant; what was going on was obvious- she had walked in on him kissing a young woman. But her question wasn't to be taken as such. Orlando knew what she wanted- an explanation as to exactly who this girl was. Judging from the look in her eyes, she had already deducted Faithe was a student, but hadn't quite figured out her identity, or, hopefully, not even which school she was from.
"Do you have to ask, Tealyr?" he said quietly.
Tealyr had known him quite well though, and he was sure that, soon enough, the woman would figure everything out. He didn't enjoy water, therefore wouldn't be on the cruise if he didn't have to be, and, seeing as a professor had left the previous day, he was probably replacing them. Noting the passion with which he had been kissing Faithe, she'd guess they had been together for quite some time. Knowing Orlando's feelings about women, the young girl would probably be an Athenian, and, from that deduction, as well as the color of the hair protected under his arm, she would presume Faithe's identity. Ah, yes, Orlando could see it now: their entire world falling apart.
But maybe, just maybe, there was a way out. if he could convince Tealyr to keep her mouth shut, which wouldn't be too easy of a task. Orlando considered himself an honest man, and asking Tealyr to lie in essence didn't bode well with his conscious, and he was sure it would do the same with hers. Not only was corrupting their integrity a problem, but also the fact that Tealyr and he weren't exactly close anymore. After the Demeter incident, she too had seen things in a different light and their friendship became another casualty of that event.
Sighing inwardly, he closed his eyes and took a breath. Re-opening them, he glanced at Tealyr with an almost pleading look in his eyes. Somehow he had to make her understand.
Tealyr had opened her mouth to give him a reply, but she seemed to be unable to say anything cynical, degrading, or witty. Actually, for the moment, she seemed to be unable to say anything at all. Knowing Orlando for all those years had given her plenty of insight into his personality...She knew that he was a very genuine person in need of affection...he had his parents to thank for that...but a student?!
She spitefully tossed her cigarette butt down to the deck and put it out with sole of her shoe, taking another few steps forward. She stopped at about a foot away from them, one hand resting on the railing. This was just too much. Tealyr, still staring at Orlando with that same disgust and loathing that she had had for him ever since their disagreement, now turned her cold eyes to the student in his arms.
"Don't play games with me, Lorenz," Tealyr snapped, still staring at the back of Faithe's head and trying to recognize her. Getting frustrated with this attempt, she glanced back at her former comrade, frozen to his desperate expression. She still wanted to know the facts; who was this girl, what was she doing kissing Orlando, and why they were together in the first place. "Dammit, Lorenz, what do you think you're doing?!"
Standing there, absolutely petrified, Faithe couldn't bring herself to turn around. A plethora of emotions were rolling through her very being, but most of all was guilt. How could she have been so careless? This was her fault. Orlando's job was on the line because of her. He had tried to put an end to their relationship in the beginning, but Faithe had somehow managed to guilt him into giving it a chance. Look where it got him now...
Though she felt some comfort by his attempt to keep her face hidden, her entire body was tense and beginning to tremble. She had never known that Tealyr and Orlando really knew each other, but the disdain that was evident in both their words conveyed a message to Faithe that they knew each other better than she had first thought.
...what do you think you're doing?! Even as she stood there, silently, a plan had been ensuing in her mind. There was a way out of it, she knew that much. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Turning around suddenly, there was a sudden resolution inside of the Rosencrantz alumna.
"He's not doing anything. This isn't his fault." Her voice came out shaky, but there was a truthfulness about her countenance. Sighing, she stepped away from Orlando, standing to the side of two, facing them.
"I bribed him. I've been bribing him all year long. My brother's best friend made a bet with me at the start of term that I couldn't make a teacher fall in love with me. I have this massive problem with not being able to turn down bets. I did a lot of digging around the school and found out about his past with his ex-girlfriend. I told him if he didn't go along with me so I could win the bet then I would spread it around school." For the second time in her life, Faithe was thankful she had grown up on a stage. Every word out of her mouth stabbed her in her heart, but on the outside, she appeared completely genuine. Looking from Orlando to Tealyr, she bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
"I also warned him that if the staff mysteriously found out about it, I'd squeal." Sighing, she lowered her eyes to the boat floor. Swallowing with difficulty, she wondered how she was managing to say all this without throwing up. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Tealyr before she spoke again.
"Tonight was supposed to be the last night. I'll go pack my bags and line up a boat to leave immediately. I've graduated; I have no reason to stay. You won't see or hear from me again." Turning her gaze from Tealyr to Orlando, there was a seriousness in her expression. "Either of you. I've caused enough trouble, there's no need for anymore to be had on my account."
"Not over something as stupid as a bet." These words were said to Tealyr, but her gaze was unable to shift from Orlando's eye until after her last word. Turning to Tealyr, where she was sure she would be meeting a very unfriendly face, Faithe took a step back. "His credibility doesn't deserve to be abated for something he couldn't really help." Turning away, she made her way quickly to the stairs, tears peaking in her eyes. Practically running down the stairs, tears were already cascading down her cheeks by the time she reached the bottom step.
Ever pleading, Orlando's eyes had remained intense all throughout Tealyr's confused, yet spiteful, remarks. His head had shook at her first comment; he wasn't playing games, and she knew it. Getting frustrated and rather anxious as her eyes remained cold and disdainful, he felt the tension grow. The prospective future was looming over his head like the blade of a guillotine- ready to strike him down at any moment.
[quote]"Damnit, Lorenz, what do you think you're doing?"[/quote]
The inflection she put on his name, compiled with how she had used his last name, brought about a sense of dread to the man. They had been so close as friends that it hurt to bring back the disdainfulness they'd reverted to two years ago and, henceforth, had forgone by means of simply staying away from each other. Now, though, in spite of her tone, he could tell that the woman before him was just frustrated, and, still, like two years ago, couldn't understand him.
She had asked him a question, though- given him a choice- and he could choose to run away, or, he thought, he could choose the road less traveled and speak the truth. Opening his mouth, he had been ready to spill everything to his once good friend in hopes that, maybe, just maybe, this time she would understand. then Faithe spoke. Her shaky words were quiet, yet still audible, and, yet, above all, unexpected. His eyes darted towards her, radiating confusion as he let up his arm and allowed her straighten her spine, never once thinking that she would step away from him like that. With the situation as it was, they were together against Tealyr; now it was Faithe versus Orlando and Tealyr. Too shocked to say anything, he remained silent as Faithe spoke.
At first, his jaw merely dropped. What was she doing? Executing some sort of master back-up plan? No, she was speaking too strongly and with too much passion. For a moment, Orlando was worried- scared that the words coming out of her mouth, save the bribing part, were true, and that she had just been too good of an actress. The last words of that thought echoed in his head, though, and, in the span of another moment, his mind concocted another idea: Faithe was lying to get them out of trouble. His mind jumped back to the previous thought, though, at the allusion to Demeter. Faithe, of all people, knew how badly he'd been hurt by her, and she wouldn't bring it up so casually. unless she had to-back to the other point of view.
With almost each sentence that the young woman's sweet voice spoke, Orlando's thoughts switched sides. He didn't know what to believe. until her last words. The look in her eyes was undeniably true- she was leaving him, and not for anything of either of their doing, but because she was being her own selfless self.
'[I]Damnit, Faithe, why can't you ever just care about yourself?[/I]'
He knew exactly what she was doing- giving up everything because she thought it would be better for him. But, what she couldn't see was that by her just giving up, she was just throwing away the entire past year. All their memories, feelings, the trust they'd come to earn (and re-earn) from one another, the security they'd brought to one another's life, and the love they'd shared. He knew that if he was feeling as he did then she had to at least be feelings equally as desolate, and Orlando wasn't about to add a perfect relationship to his collection of failed ones over something as trivial as Tealyr seeing them.
As aforementioned, Orlando Corvello Lorenz was hardly a violent or even vengeful man. He used his magic for good and, on occasion, stupid little things like cleaning up French toast batter or summoning discarded clothes from the lake to his bedroom, but, only when faced with no other choice would he ever use it to harm someone else. But, in this particular case, the man knew that, if worse came to worse, he would cast a memory spell on Tealyr Montague and make her forget ever seeing them.
It wouldn't come to that, though. At least, he hoped it wouldn't. He knew Tealyr to be a reasonable woman, and, in spite of their trials, toils and strife, he believed her to still be as such. She wouldn't turn him in. No, she'd remember their friendship and, if nothing else, have some sort of conscience. She had to; there was no other way.
As Faithe turned and made for the stairs, gaining momentum with each step, all logical thoughts were pushed out of the man's head save one: keeping Faithe. Some part of his mind warned that everything Faithe had done just then- everything she had given up- would have been done in vain if he went off after her. Still, he couldn't just let her leave like that. She'd think he thought he was better off without her, that he bought into her whole story about how having her wasn't worth his credibility, that he didn't love her. No, he couldn't let those thoughts invade her mind. provided that was what was happening; he still wasn't sure.
Shaking his head at Tealyr, he met her gaze with eyes that were oddly soft, free of the disdain that had clouded them whenever he had met hers before in the past two years.
"Please, Teal. Wait here?"
And with that, he bolted off after Faithe. Catching up with her at the bottom step, he wrapped her in a sort of hug, preemptively fighting whatever efforts she would make to break free.
"What [I]was[/I] that, Faithe?" he asked, just loud enough for her to hear him. His voice was defined, but still radiated the hurt and confusion within him.
Tealyr crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and leaning leisurely against the railing. She continuously nodded and gave curt 'mmm- hmm's and 'uh-huh's throughout Faithe's speech, occasionally tapping her foot or examining her nails. Tealyr couldn't bring herself to entirely believe the story. It didn't make sense.
Firstly, Faithe's reputation preceded her. There wasn't a day during the school year that talk in the staff room consisted of praise about the 'wonderful Faithe Cunningham.' Every other Rosencrantz teacher couldn't help themselves from commenting about how intelligent she was, how attentive she was, how reliable and well-mannered--oh, such a role model. She had no knowledge of a previous disciplinary record--after all, Faithe was Head Girl. Secondly, she had known...or thought she had known Professor Lorenz to be an intelligent, sensible man. He wouldn't have gone along with something that could put his whole future in jeopardy just because of some juvenile bet--even if there was a threat to his reputation, there were memory-modifying and secret-keeping spells to make sure his credibility stayed intact. Thirdly, if she was, indeed, a bet and a bribe, wouldn't witnesses be necessary in order to verify that he did, indeed, fall in love with her? Why bother taking part in the bribe when no one was around to make sure that she was following through with the bet? Finally, while this wasn't exactly solid evidence that stated that her story was incredible, the fact was that there were few loopholes, if none. Children who lie frequently know how to lie specifically to be believed--one doesn't keep adding details to cover themselves. Tealyr could always spot a good liar-- she had been one herself. "It's like when a child is lying, nervously, for the first time in front of their parents. "Johnny, where's your homework?" "The dog ate it." "We don't have a dog." "Well, we do now!"
Tealyr just didn't believe it--and watching Orlando run after Faithe confirmed her suspicion. She snorted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust. He had called her Teal...like they were buddies or something. Puh-lease! This whole situation was just...incomprehensible. And she STILL wanted to know what was going on, damnit!
Disregarding Orlando's plea, she watched him walk below and then she slowly followed, stopping just out of the range of sight near the top step. Unable to hear anything, she looked over the edge of the railing and raised an eyebrow.
Turning away, she leaned against the railing and lit up another cigarette. "What have I gotten myself into..." she mused darkly.
Feeling the restraint of his arms around her, Faithe was almost too stunned to say anything. Or even react for that matter. As soon as she comprehended who was behind her, she began to wriggle fiercely. However, her strength was nothing compared to Orlando's, so trying to get away from him wasn't going to work.
Sighing frustratedly, Faithe shook her head for a moment. Finally, turning around, her eyes met his.
"Orlando, what are you doing?" Half moaning the question, there was a look of confusion and despair on her face. Why did he leave Tealyr? That was the dumbest move he could have made. Sighing, she lowered her eyes as she sought for an answer to his question.
"Orlando," speaking quietly so that her voice was barely audible to Orlando, let alone the spying Tealyr, Faithe forced her eyes to dry up," This is my fault. You were apprehensive about this from the beginning because of a situation like this. You have a job you love at a school you adore, and I refuse to be the cause of something you love so much being put in jeopardy." After she spoke, she made an attempt to wiggle away from him.
((Man, does this suck.))
Faithe's words confirmed the man's earlier fear that she was letting her guilt manipulate her selflessness. Letting out a breathy sigh, he resisted her attempt to squirm free of his embrace, refusing to let her go due to his fear of her running off. Tightening one arm around her small body, the other's hand reached up to brush the salt-water streams from her face, noticing that the tears themselves had ceased to fall.
"Faithe."
He spoke her name quietly, but it was still filled with that sweet sincerity that the man nearly always spoke it with.
"How can you even think that my job is more important than you? More important than us?"
His voice was quiet and eerily calm as he spoke, in spite of how confused his mind was; his eyes complemented his voice, telling her that he was speaking the truth; and his hand added to the effect, wiping down her face and settling gently upon her shoulder.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back, too cagey to rest it upon her forehead with her wriggling as she was. She had been right when she'd mentioned that he'd been apprehensive about their relationship. in the beginning, that was. He had known the risks of such a thing, but, as aforementioned, he knew that, if given the opportunity to go back and change the decision he made that morning, he wouldn't.
"Is this what you want, Faithe? Truly?" he asked looking back into her eyes, not as certain as he once had been that her answer would be the one he longed to- and needed to- hear.
Silently, a thought, or rather, a memory entered his mind.
"Don't make this decision based on what you think I can or cannot handle. If this is what you truly want because you have different feelings, that's one thing, but don't make this decision based on technicalities that can easily be gotten around," he whispered, repeating the words from his mind with just a few barely noticeable alterations.
"Believe me when I tell you this, Faithe: I love you," he whispered, completely sincerely.
"And just because the unthinkable's happened doesn't make this the end. Even if all hope is gone and it looks as though the jig is up, it's not. As long as we still love each other, it'll never end, Faithe. no matter what happens.
"And, keep in mind, nothing's happened yet. Just because Tealyr knows doesn't mean anything."
Giving up on any attempts at an escape, her body slumped against his arms. Watching him with sad eyes, she bit her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check. Opening her mouth to answer his question, nothing came out. Closing her eye, she lowered her head.
She knew what he was trying to do, but part of her wished he hadn't done this. She loved with Orlando more than anything, which was why she didn't want to put his job on the line. She told him that she would give up anything for him, even if it meant walking away from everything she had come to know and love.
Hearing him repeat those words she had spoken to him what seemed like a lifetime ago, Faithe dropped her eyes. She knew Tealyr wouldn't just let this drop. The disdain and impatience in the woman's voice had given that away. Swallowing hard, she looked back up with him with more regret than she had ever felt in her life.
"I'm leaving Orlando..."
Although the party at the far end of the deck may have been loud, Orlando had drowned out the noise. To him, the base of the stairwell was completely silent, save even the quietest noise that Faithe made. Waiting for a response, the moment of silence seemed like a sickening eternity to the man, lasting longer than his entire life thusfar. She had to understand; this was one of those things that she just had to understand...
In that moment, like most moments in the man's life where the core of his being hung in limbo, time passed slowly. A second was a minute, a minute and hour and so forth. In that near-minute of silence, his eyes remained locked on hers for every elongated second. At first, they searched hers, trying so desperately to foresee the words that would come out of her mouth, or, if not that, just to see what she was thinking.
'Tell me what you're thinking, Faithe...' his mind screamed. Yet the shout was only noticeable in the way the man's eyes had become a swirled slate blue instead of their typical light cerulean.
After a seemingly long while, something lit up in her eyes- that spark of regret, which, within seconds, had grown into a warmly somber fire within those brown orbs. He could see it now.
'No... this isn't happening. She has to understand...'
Beginning to gnaw absentmindedly upon his tongue with his molars, the man's front teeth dug almost viciously into his lower lip, trying to prepare himself, physically, for the pain that he could see coming while trying to prevent that pain with his eyes. Soft, sincere and pleading, they gazed into Faithe's, turning a near periwinkle color as they begged her to understand.
Her words dug into him, and his breath caught in his chest, causing a sort of quiet, choking gasp to escape his lips.
Why was she doing this? Tealyr knowing wasn't a big deal; she wouldn't tell. She'd remember their friendship and keep their secret. Everything would be just fine. Faithe was overreacting, and it was causing her mind to contort things. Yes, that was it. She was simply overthinking things, believing that he would lose his job over their relationship.
Although Orlando considered even that and impossibility, even if it were so, he knew that he wouldn't care. He had meant what he had said, too: he'd give up anything for her. Those words hadn't been trite- they'd been genuine. He would give up the world for her not because he wanted to see her happy (although he did), but more for a selfish reason: as long as he had her, the world didn't matter to him. Why couldn't she see that?
Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a most painful sigh. Re-opening them, they searched hers, trying to make some sort of connection with her.
"No, you're not," he replied, securing his grip upon her waist.
Taking his hand off her shoulder, he ran it upon her face, hoping that his fingertips' caress would have some effect on her- any effect on her.
"I'm not letting you go when I know you don't want to."
Faithe felt like the worst person in the world at that moment. When Kaytlin had been taken, she thought she would never be put in a situation where guilt was such an adamant part of her emotions. If she stayed, and Orlando lost his job, she would never be able to forgive herself for doing that to him.
Staring into his dark eyes, she felt lost. Unsure of what to do or what to say, she simply stood there. His eyes, which were normally twinkling with excitement, now held an unhappiness. An unhappiness you caused him Faithe. This is your fault, all of it. If you stay, you're going to cost him his job. You aren't worth that.
Feeling his arm tighten around her waist, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep her breathing steady. When she opened them, there were tears on the verge of falling, but she held them in. Feeling his hand on her face, her head tilted instinctively towards his hand. Sighing at his last comment, she dropped her eyes. She wanted what was best for Orlando, and her leaving would be just that. Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes back up at him.
"You go talk to her. I'm going to my room. If she agrees to keep quiet, with no strings attached, then I'll stay. However, if she threatens to tell, or comes up with some sort of catch for remaining silent, I am leaving."
Feeling her lean into his hand, a flicked of hope crossed Orlando's eyes as they stared into Faithe's. only to be extinguished in a matter of milliseconds by that hauntingly familiar swallow. His attempt had been futile. Why, though? What had happened between when they had been kissing one another and that moment right then that could have possibly affected her so much? Did she really think that keeping his job was worth more to either of them than the other? No, surely Faithe couldn't believe something as ridiculous as that. she was too smart.
Yet, as she spoke, offering him a sort of ultimatum, he found himself unsure. It almost sounded as if she didn't want to be with him at all. that, maybe, it had just been some sort of joke. Sighing, he let his hand slump down to her shoulder and, from there, trail down her arm until, at last, it hung reluctantly by his side. Confused, frustrated and dejected, Orlando had given up.
"Maybe that's a good idea," he replied, with an expression that can't really be described ((think Sharon from AE on the line "Maybe going is a good idea")).
Dropping his hand from around her waist, he took a step back, completely separating himself from her physically as she had done to him emotionally.
He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide something. Then, moved to turn around.
"Did you even ever love me, Faithe?"
The words came out in a sort of hushed whisper, and, although he had tried to make them sound bitter, they only reflected hurt.
Not even leaving her time to respond, he trudged up the steps, praying that Tealyr wouldn't have gone anywhere.
Halfway up the steps, Tealyr's figure came into view, leaning against the railing, and a sigh of half-relief escaped the man's lips. Walking over, he stopped about three feet from her, waiting for her to say something because he knew that, if he were to open his mouth right then, the only thing that would come out was a sob.
Even though she had initiated the thought of her leaving, hearing it come from his lips was like a stab in the heart with a serrated knife. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she swallowed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she forced herself to nod. Opening them, a few tears betrayed her and slipped down her cheeks. She fought to breathe as he detached himself from her, feeling as if part of her had just been torn from her body.
Did you even ever love me, Faithe? A look of utter shock crossed her face as Orlando's words hung in the air, a look that rivaled her expression all those months ago in the hotel. A small, inaudible whimper escaped her throat as her knees threatened to give out on here. Hearing Orlando question something like that absolutely killed her. How could he not know that she was doing this for him?
I should have asked you that when you cheated on me... Angry at herself with her thoughts, Faithe was eternally grateful she had not vocalized them. It wouldn't have helped the situation, and she knew regret would have overtaken her had she allowed them to slip out. Watching him go, Faithe felt as if she were watching her heart and soul leaving her.
Turning, she walked away. Struggling to keep from losing it, she stopped by the service desk. The earliest she could get out of there was an hour, which gave her time to pack and brood.
By the time she was pulling her key from her pocket, her tears were continually flowing. She felt hurt and lost, unsure of what lay ahead of her. Slamming the door shut, she threw the key on the table. Opening her suitcase on the bed, she began shoving clothes in it roughly, not bothering to fold them. Reaching for her watch on the nightstand, she pulled her hand back and knocked a glass of water onto the floor.
Her nerves rattled when the sound of the breaking glass filled the silence. Letting out a frustrated scream, Faithe bent down to pick up the glass. Only, instead of following through, the floodgates opened and she began sobbing. Burying her face in her hands, she allowed her pain and frustration to pour out.
Tealyr slowly stood up straight, raising both eyebrows. Orlando looked severely upset. Shifting uncomfortably, she took another drag of the cigarette. Her expression was devoid of any sort of sympathy, but there was a bit less animosity too. "Lorenz," she hesitated, "now will you tell me what in the hell is going on here?"
Glancing over his shoulder, a pair of gray-blue eyes met Jacques Kerouac Hilton in the mirror. He sighed and glanced away, averting his eyes to the blade in his hands. He sat cross-legged upon the counter of the sink. The florescent lights inside of the bathroom stared down bleakly at him. He sat in silence, occasionally prodding his skin with the knife, digging the tip into his flesh to see how far it could go before he drew blood.
For hours he must've sat this way, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, brown hair falling forward. His eyes were the main indication of his pensieve reverie. They were clouded and troubled, far-off and thoughtful. He hadn't really done anything to himself yet; he just sat there. There were a few red spots where he had poked himself and one small, thin, barely noticable scrape, a bit like a papercut. He seemed to come to some resolution, for he sat up straighter and his eyes focused. Raising the knife, he braced himself...and then froze.
There was the slamming of a door...someone had come in...Overcome with dread, he sprung off of the counter and peeked through the sliver of open space between the doorframe and the almost-closed door. His eyes widened, feeling his stomach drop out of him. It was Faithe.
Hurriedly he scrambled with the drawers, shoving the knife inside the box of facial tissue in the bottom drawer. He made a frantically poor attempt to put everything back in its proper place. The Athena slowly and apprehensively opened the door, rolling his sleeves down speedily and catching his breath at the sight of the sobbing Faithe.
His eyes traveled from the broken glass before her, to the carelessly placed keys, to the clothes strewn about the suitcase. "Oh my God," he gasped, "hurrying over to Faithe, his bare feet treading through the spilled water, "Oh my God, Faithe, what's wrong?!"
He stared in horror as she wept, the mere sight of her fallen form stabbing him through the heart. He wanted to reach out and hold her, comfort her, but he was afraid that she wouldn't want that...that she would push him away. Whipping out his wand, he cleaned up the broken glass.
"Faithe...please...what's wrong?" he asked quietly, eyes wide with horror. Sweet, easygoing, reserved Faithe...sobbing like this...it wasn't natural...it was beyond unsettling...
Pursing his lips together, Orlando merely stood there for a moment in silence. He couldn't talk yet; he could still feel that unswallowable lump lingering in his throat and wasn't about to let Tealyr see him cry. Perhaps he would have if they had still been close friends, but not with the way things were now.
Her words echoed through his mind as a vacant look overcame his face. What in the hell was going on? He was reasonably sure that whatever he had Faithe had had was gone just then, but exactly how it happened. that was the part the man hadn't a clue about. It was eerie really- almost haunting in a sense- the feeling the man felt at that particular moment, which was one he had felt at but one other time in his entire life: two years ago, to the date. Confusion, betrayal, guilt. a mix of other emotions coursed through his body, yet the feeling itself couldn't possibly be described in any amount of words.
"I think I just lost the best thing I've ever had." he replied quietly, "and I don't even know how it happened."
Tealyr's eyes widened and she gave a snort of disbelief. She glanced back at the base of the stairs and then towards Orlando again. Staring at him, she tilted her head slightly. She didn't know what to feel. Orlando Lorenz having a relationship with a student?!
"You mean...you...her..." she stumbled, "The best thing you ever had? The best thing you've ever had?!"
She couldn't believe it. Standing up straight, she began to pace slightly, taking another drag of the cigarette to calm her mounting nerves. Biting her lip, she glanced at Orlando again and then back out into the vast abyss. She was shocked.
"What's her name?" she inquired quietly, shaking her head.
Throughout Tealyr's reaction, Orlando's face never lost its look of vacancy. His eyes were glassy, and held a certain ambiguity in them, lost in the swirled slate blue color. He hadn't really thought about how Tealyr would react, or how he would react if the roles had been reversed, but he knew he didn't exactly appreciate her incredulousness. Then again, how was she supposed to react?
Still keeping the vacant look upon his face, he offered a slight nod as she repeated his last phrase. Faithe had been, by far, the best thing ever in his life... The time spent with her had been more amorous than that with Demeter, more thrilling than broomstick rides through the stars, and more fulfilling than teaching Astronomy. ((And that sentence sucked... How cheesy!))
Watching in silence as Tealyr seemed to take on a pensive demeanor, Orlando took a quiet breath. Fear resumed running through his veins. Again, he felt as though he were a little boy again, filled with trepidation as he waited to see what kind of terror would unfold itself that night.
"What's her name?" Looking up, his eyes met hers, although, rather than look into hers, his gaze seemed to look either past or through her.
"Isabelle Faithe Cunningham," he replied just as softly, "You know who she is, Tealyr."
"Faithe Cunningham?!" she repeated, flabbergasted. Looking awway, she snorted again. "The head girl...You have been swapping spit with the head girl..."
Tealyr realized that she was now trying to smoke a cigarette butt and threw it down upon the deck, pulling out another one with shaking fingers and lighting it. "So is there anything else you'd like to confess? Any other tiny, little secrets--white, little lies--you've been keeping up?"
Shaking her head, she leaned against the railing again. "I never thought--" she began, and then resumed, "Let me ask you something. How did you honestly think that you'd be able to maintain something like this under secrecy? Did you truly believe that no one was going to find out what you have been doing with the students of this school?! You're insane, Lorenz...this is...this is just ridiculous..."
"You have been swapping spit with the head girl..." Well, that was certainly one way to put it. A very vulgar way to put it, but a way to put it nevertheless. What more could one expect from Tealyr Soleil Montague? She wasn't exactly the hopeless romantic Orlando was and therefore couldn't possibly have been expected to find the endearing innocence in a kiss. Sighing, Orlando's vacant look seemed to thaw a bit, giving the woman a sort of knowing look that seemed to say "Obviously..."
At her next prodding question, Orlando remained silent. Confessions... The man hadn't too many of those to make. Those things he thought people should know, they knew. Other than that, he didn't see a need to exploit his personal affairs for the entertainment of others. Perhaps if he and Tealyr had still been close, he might have mentioned his rendez-vous with one Demeter Elisabeth Lawrance back in Manhattan (then again, if he had been close with her, she would have been the first to know about such an affair), but, given current circumstances, the thought didn't even cross his mind.
As Tealyr continued speaking, Orlando remained still, casually allowing his eyes to remain fixated upon her. Little did the woman know that they -had- maintained something like that under secrecy for nearly the entire year, and, if he hadn't been so careless, no one would know even then. SHe didn't seem to understand though. It was as though she didn't get the fact that Orlando loved Faithe and that they were so right for each other... Just like with Demeter, Tealyr was seemingly unable to comprehend the emotions involved. To her, it appeared that Orlando was just in one careless relationship after another.
"Student," Orlando corrected her as she implied Faithe hadn't been the only one.
"I've been with her since September, Tealyr. We've obviously done a rather good job of keeping ourselves a secret from the rest of the school..."
"You WHAT?!" she cried, astonished. Might it be noted that the author apologizes for any repetitive adjectives from this point forward--there are only so many ways to write the word "surprised." Anyways, Tealyr began sputtering again. "But you...she...how did you...UGH."
"You're such an idiot, Orlando," she spat. She had finally dropped the resentful formalities for a more informal manner...a resentful informal manner...but an informal manner nonetheless. "First that whore, and now one of your students! I can't believe this..."
"Do you have any idea what this means?" she demanded, giving Orlando a 'I- can't-believe-you-are-so-incompetent' look, "Forget the end of your teaching career, this could be the end of Rosencrantz and its credibility..."
Sighing agitatedly, she huffed once more on the cigarette. "This is positively disastrous," she muttered, "and, on top of that, genuinely outlandish."
Wither her face buried in her hands, Faithe hadn't even noticed Jacques's entrance into the room. Or even the fact that he had come from the bathroom. So used to being alone, it had never occurred to her to see if her roommate was in the room. The disappearance of the broken glass went unseen by her normally observant brown eyes.
Eight years' worth of pent up anger, bitterness, and pain were finally beginning to shower out of the eighteen year old. Not once did she allow her tongue to lash out foolishly at her parents' possessive control over her life. Or at Jake for sticking up for them. She had shown patience and tolerance of Eddie's constant attempts to get somewhere with her. The only time since she was a child that Faithe's tears had run away with her had been during Kayte's abduction.
Her entire life had been spent trying to live up to the endless expectations the world had seemed to throw at her. For once she had found something, someBODY, who didn't hold that same expecatation for her, and it was falling down the drain. A distant voice resounded in her head, though it wasn't that of Jacques.
Astronomy, Isabelle? That's foolish! You cannot make a living with your head in the stars! You're a Cunningham, not an insolent dreamer and gazer! Her father's condescending voice replayed in her head. Sobbing harder into her hands, a violent shudder ran through her body.
Your brother graduated in the top five of his class. You can do better than that. Never settle for less than what you can achieve. The goading voice of her mother replaced her father's voice. Faithe had never seen a point in striving so hard for academic excellence when her parents refused to let her use it for her future.
They love you, Izzy. Their way of showing us how much is by making sure we do what is best for them. Jake's calm and rational voice only upset her more. It was easy for him to say that because he wanted what they did.
Did you ever even love me? The most painful memory of all. Orlando had been the first person to love her for who she was, and not because of what she was capable of. Those two weeks when they hadn't spoken had been tortorous. Now she was looking forward to a lifetime without the man she loved.
Faithe...please...what's wrong?" Upon hearing Jacques's last plea, Faithe finally heard his voice for the first time. Feeling an icy chill sweep through her, she slowly lifted her head to look at him. The last thing in the world she wanted was for somebody to see 'perfect little Faithe Cunningham' losing control of herself. Wiping her eyes in a futile attempt to cover up her outburst, she shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
As Tealyr reprimanded him, there was a part of Orlando that still carried fear. Perhaps it was because of his abusive childhood, but the man felt like, at any moment, Tealyr would begin thrashing upon him. While this part existed, there was another that, although still timid, felt its resolve strengthening with each word she said.
Although what he had done might not have been exactly legal or "right" according to the educational code, Orlando felt that it did still hold a least a little bit of sanctity. There was something about love- not lust- that was innocent, respectable and admirable. Tealyr didn't seem to understand that part of it, and Orlando didn't hold it against the woman, who he hadn't ever really known to be in a serious relationship where love was the central focus.
As Tealyr trailed off, sputtering random words and phrases, Orlando answered her half-spoken question.
"How?" he repeated quietly, "We fell in love, Tealyr."
His eyes dropped themselves down to the deck as she denounced his mental capabilities. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps...
"That whore"
Hearing those words, Orlando's head snapped up and his sorrowful blue eyes lost their desolateness and glowed a fiery cerulean.
"Don't you ever call Demeter that, Tealyr," he threatened loudly, but not so much as to allow anyone other than Tealyr to hear, "What happened that night was my fault, not hers. You're never going to accept that, though, are you?"
Sighing with frustration, he shook his head and resumed staring her down, although his eyes eventually did lose the bitterness as they glared at her. At some points, her words almost made sense to him. Yet, at others, she seemed entirely strung up on the beliefs society had raised her to have.
He found it rather hard to believe that what he had done could ruin Rosencrantz's credibility. After all, he hadn't pushed Faithe into anything, they hadn't done anything more than kissing, neither of them had done anything wrong... save fall in love with someone that society told them they shouldn't. If he had been a student there, no one would have had such a fit that a seventh year was going out with a fourth year; there might have been some casual childish teasing, but certainly no major reprimands from the staff. Three years of age wasn't so bad... unless the two people whose relationship was in question were from different sides of that line.
'But,' the man wondered, 'since when is falling in love such a heinous crime?'
He considered vocalizing that thought, but knew better than to use something so idealistic in an argument with Tealyr Montague...
Sighing, he took a step towards her, with a countenance that almost looked as though he was trying to make some sort of peace treaty with the woman.
"As I said, Tealyr, no one, except you now, knows..."
"Stop fooling yourself, Orlando!" Tealyr retorted, "Don't tell me to accept anything--you need to accept that, yes, she is a whore! And regardless of what you wanted, the fact is that she made no effort whatsoever to try to prevent the whole fiasco that ensued after the two of you..." Here she stopped, restraining the word that had been on the tip of her tongue, "...were together."
She watched him carefully, about to sigh with relief as she saw a change in his expression. However, she knew it was too good to be true, and grit her teeth as he stepped forward. She inhaled from her cigarette and, for a moment, was tempted to blow smoke in his face--but decided against it and turned her head to the side as she exhaled.
"And it's obvious you're expecting me to do you this little favor," Tealyr snarled, "and keep this knowledge to myself. I suppose you think that is is just supposed to be okay with me. Is that what you want? Do you want me to risk my own neck just so you can keep yours nuzzling with that pretentious little brainchild's?"
Shooting him a look of loathing, she tossed her head and glanced out at the ocean once again. She informed firmly, not looking at him, "I don't think so..."
If Orlando had ever wondered why exactly he and Tealyr had gone there separate ways, he was just reminded. Demeter was a touchy subject with Orlando in general, especially since the man blamed himself completely for the consequences of that night, and Tealyr's contradictory opinion never fared well with him.
"Prevent the whole fiasco?" Orlando repeated, so bitterly that one might have thought him possessed if they knew him at all. "And how was she supposed to do that, Tealyr?" His voice was louder now, almost to the point where someone else might have heard it, yet not been able to make out the words. Taking a step towards Tealyr, Orlando flung his hands up in frustration, yet his overall demeanor was still burning with anger.
"She was nineteen! Young, stupid, naive, trusting... innocent."
With each further adjective, the rage in his voice died away and was replaced with guilt and remorse.
"I took that away from her, Tealyr, and I can't ever give it back..." he said quietly, voice now barely above a whisper. "So don't even start to tell me that it was her fault."
"And it's obvious you're expecting me to do you this little favor" Although Tealyr had been rather dead-on with most of her words so far that evening (save the Demeter remarks), that was where she was wrong. At this point, Orlando truly couldn't care less about what happened to him. His credibility was nice, but Tealyr seemed to care a lot more about Rosencrantz' s credibility than he did.
His life was sort of a dream at the moment. He'd lost Faithe, and for what? He didn't even understand why she'd left him. It wasn't as though her leaving would prevent Tealyr from telling. For a moment, the man considered telling Tealyr to go ahead and tell her mother, because he'd already lost his life. But, what would happen to Faithe if such a scandalous affair erupted? Her life would be ruined, because of him. Whatever feelings of malice the man had towards the young woman a cause of not understanding her actions, he wouldn't wish any harm upon her.
"No," he replied, although the word came out as more of a choked gasp. "I've already lost her...
"I want you to realize that I'm a rather desperate man at the moment and that if you want to say something that'll ruin Faithe's life, then I might be tempted to take out my wand and modify your memory a bit."
Tealyr's expression hardened, her resentment now back in full force. "I dare you to try it," Tealyr hissed, "If you even -point- your wand at me, then I 'might be tempted' to shove it up your ass."
Still, she did take two steps away from him, eyeing him suspiciously. Her hand slid up to her pocket where he wand lay. The last thing she needed was to get into a duel with another Professor. She shook her head slightly, staring at Orlando as if he was some unsettling stranger- someone that she hadn't really known at all.
"Innocent?" she repeated incredulously. "Innocent?! Hardly! She was a dirty little slut! She just couldn't wait to let you get in her pants! And because of her 'fun and free' ways, she put you through a hell of a lot that you shouldn't have had to deal with!"
This was all too familiar. Hadn't they yelled these same things back and forth at each other, only a short time ago? Weren't these same words spoken, these same insults said? It was sad, really. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
"I warned you. I warned you from the moment you told me that you were attracted to her. I knew that she was trouble and you didn't listen to me! To me, of all people! I had your best interests at heart, and you didn't think that was good enough!" Tealyr exclaimed. She hadn't realized how strong her hurt and frustration from all that time ago could still be. "Now look at you! You are still senseless! You are still a fool!
"You fell in love. You fell in love. You know, Orlando, for something that is supposedly 'so right', you have all the wrong reasons."
((*grins, squeals* I am [I]so[/I] proud of this post!!!!))
Listening to the woman speak, Orlando went silent- eerily silent. His face adopted a chilling vacant expression; the skin seemed to hang off of his face, his lips slumped as if they had no muscles within them, and his eyes were as though they were made of glass. He looked desperate, but almost in a state of shock- as though he didn't know what was going on around him. Or, perhaps did know what was going on around him, and thus was his reason for appearing as such. He remained like that as she stepped back from him and put her hand to her wand. Although he had seen her do so, his expression wouldn't have given that away- it looked as though the man was in a trance of sorts. paralyzed.
Throughout her incessant torrent of snide remarks about Demeter, too, the man remained frozen, physically, though his mind was churning. This scene was all too familiar. The setting may have varied, but the actors, their roles, emotions and dialogue all remained hauntingly unchanged. Tealyr was still living under the assumption that Orlando had been infallible, that it had been Demeter to spark the incident and the repercussions it brought her fault alone.
"[I]Dirty little slut. put you through hell. I knew. you didn't listen to me. look at you. still a fool. you fell in love. all the wrong reasons.[/I]"
Broken fragments of Tealyr's words resonated through the man's mind, echoing off the walls of his cranium and bouncing back, their nagging message louder and louder each time. '[I]Shut up, shut up, shut up![/I]' his mind shouted, unable to take anymore, but the violent diatribe was inexorable.
For a moment, it seemed as though all hell was about to break loose. Orlando's mind was swarmed with thousands of pesky emotions and memories, clouding its perception and paralyzing whatever logic lay within his mind. His left hand reached into the back pocket of his jeans and procured the Maplewood shaft, adorned with a single unicorn hair, which lay there. Fingers trembling, they wrapped around it and held it down at his side. There passed a moment where Orlando's brilliant blue eyes darkened to a near navy color as he glanced first at the wand he held and then back to Tealyr as something foreign shone through in them- complete, genuine malice.
Within that moment, hundreds of hexes, curses and wicked incantations ran rampant through his mind- spells he had only read about in books, or news clippings about Lord Voldemort's fiendish deeds. Within that moment, the man wanted nothing more than to avenge Demeter, to avenge Faithe and to forever silence the twisted part of his conscious embodied in Tealyr Soleil Montague. A simple three-syllable spell to silence her endless affronts, an uncomplicated single-utterance incantation to remove the vision of Faithe and himself from her mind, and an impassioned two-word curse to end the torment the irksome bit of truth in her words brought to him. Yet, in spite of that ardor burning inside of him, the man couldn't bring himself to commit any of the three crimes.
His fingers ceased to quaver upon the wooden rod and his mien softened in a sense as the anger within him melted into hurt and bewilderment. Tealyr's condescending reproof hadn't just been scolding him for his actions, it had been condemning him: stupid, foolish and ridiculously obsessed with the idea of love. She had a way of getting to him: her words sounded like those of his mother, yet, unlike Evelyn, Tealyr's words were spoken with Orlando in mind.
"[I].that you shouldn't have had to deal with.I had your best interests at heart.[/I]"
Not once had Tealyr ever outright blamed Orlando for anything; she had always seen him in a different light. It was always those around him who ought to be blamed for whatever misfortunes befell upon him, he was just too idealistic to see the way things were and it was she who was trying to help him realize such.
There were so many things floating about in Orlando's mind that he might have verbalized at that moment, yet, bemused and forlorn, the man's lips formed a single, quiet, yet coherent, response:
"Why do you insist upon acting like you still care about me?"
Completely and utterly confused, Jacques sat up straight. And at the realization of what her words meant, his face fell.
So she couldn't tell him. Well, that was fine, he guessed. Biting his lip, he studied Faithe worriedly. It pained him so, so much to see her like this. He didn't know what to do. She couldn't tell him... That was okay. Really. He frowned and slowly stood up, faltering.
Maybe, just once, he had hoped to be there for Faithe like she had been there for him.
He swallowed nervously. A hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He gave Faithe no immediate reply. Limply, he set the now-restored glass on the table where it had been and walked back into the bathroom.
Putting both hands on the sink, he leaned forward, glancing down the drain. Gray-blue eyes travelled down into that grimy abyss. The silence was killing him.
"Can I get you anything?" Jacques asked, doing a good job of keeping everything other than friendly concern out of his voice.
Tealyr was speechless.
Halfway through another furious reprimand, she stopped. Her mouth hung open slightly, all further reproofs quickly fading away. She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought, as if she hadn't heard what he told her correctly--but she knew exactly what she had heard. She blinked once, twice. Closing her mouth, she frowned and looked away.
And before she knew it, a tear had formed in one of her eyes. She blinked and it began to fall; embarrassed, she turned her back to him and wiped it as quickly as possible. Oh, this was just ridiculous. She didn't even know why she had started to 'tear up.' Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and looked down at what was left of the slender "cancer stick." She tossed it out into the water and turned back to look at Orlando ambiguously, throwing up her hands in a gesture of defeat.
"You're right," she said simply, "I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm wasting my time...and yours."
She walked, head bowed over to the stairs that led to the teacher and seventh year's cabins. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she did not look up, but spoke clearly enough for him to hear her. "I do care about you, Orlando...well, no, scratch that. You're right. I did. I don't anymore....not anymore..."
And with that, she sighed quietly, descending the stairs in silence.
How about a new life... Picking herself up off the ground, she stared bitterly at the suitcase with her clothes thrown carelessly inside. What was she going back to? A life she didn't want? Granted, her option was higher than that of her parents' idea, but still...not the life she wanted. The life she wanted was off arguing with Tealyr Montague. Of course, he was defending his ex-girlfriend more than their relationship, but Faithe didn't know that.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she stared at the glass that had been in shards moments before. Picking it up, her eyes took on a faraway expression. Tilting her head slightly, she ran her finger over the brim. The tears that had been falling had suddenly stopped as she became obsessed with the clear glass.
Slamming the glass down against the corner of the table, she watched as it shattered once more. Bending down, she picked up a rather large shard and stared at it.
"Tell me something Jacques..." Raising her voice loud enough so he could hear, she spoke with amazing calmness considering she had just been bawling her eyes out. "What does it feel like?" Taking the glass in her left hand, she turned over her right hand, staring down at her wrist.
"Does it bring that relief everybody says it does?" Tracing over one of her veins with the sharp end of the glass gently, her head tilted slightly.
Jacques flinched at the sound of the breaking glass, immediately looking out from the bathroom to see what had happened. He frowned at the sight of the broken glass--had she not wanted him to fix it? He stared as she picked up a piece.
Her questions were extremely unexpected...and quite unsettling. Jacques blinked, confused at first. "What do you..." After a moment, his expression changed to one of apprehension. No, that was an understatement. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. All of the color rose to his cheeks.
"Faithe...you...no..." was the only thing that came to mind. He stopped, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes fell. He could allow Faithe to do that...but what position did he have telling her not to, when he might as well have been an expert on the subject? Jacques shook his head slowly, eyes widening.
He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to retch. She knew...how did she...well, of course she did. It wasn't that hard to know that something was going on. He had scars...plenty of them... Putting a hand to the side of his face, he leaned his forehead against the doorframe, sighing and scrunching up his face in an effort to keep out the emotion that was threatening to overtake him. "No...you don't know...please, Faithe, please...please don't..."
Looking up at Jaqcues, her face remained the same, her eyes unblinking. He had no idea what she was going through. No idea whatsoever.
"I know I don't know Jacques, that's why I'm asking you. We've been friends for almost a year. I'm an Athena alumni, you of all people should know, I have observation skills. So, tell me." Looking back down, she moved the glass to the base of her wrist, her eyes glancing back up at him. "Does it help?"
She needed some way to take out her anger, her pain, and her frustration. This seemed the easiest way. Faithe could never hurt anybody else, it wasn't in her. Herself, though a thought that had never occured to her, was a different story. She's put herself in enough messes, and was tired of dealing with them.
"No, Faithe, no, it doesn't!" Jacques said frustratedly, looking up and taking a step away from the door frame. The emotion had won. Angrily, he turned and walked back into the bathroom, punching the mirror. He stepped out again and held up his hand, blood now trickling down it.
"Do you see this? This is what it's like! It's shooting yourself in the foot over and over again, being so strongly addicted to the sight of blood that anything, anything can trigger thoughts of harming yourself!" he paused, looking down at his hand again, "I can barely feel this. This is -nothing- to me. And I find it absolutely absurd that you would even suggest trying it!"
He stormed forth and attempted to pry the glass from her fingers. "Please, Faithe, don't," he pleaded, yet his voice remained firm, "I'm begging you. Once is not enough...once is never enough...I can't let you do this!"
Reverting to his chilling silence, Orlando simply tilted his head, watching the woman before him as she made it halfway through several actions. At first, she looked as though she was about to continue their shouting argument, but it passed. Then, she looked as though she might just say something, perhaps ask him to repeat his statement, although it was obvious she had heard him, but it passed. Finally, she turned away from him.
Almost sorrowful light blue eyes followed her as she turned away, and the man bit his bottom lip uncomfortably. He didn't like the fact that she had turned away from him- he couldn't see her eyes that way, and, if he couldn't see her eyes, he couldn't possibly know what she was thinking. As she turned back to him, though, he found that it hadn't been necessary for him to see her eyes in that moment she had been turned from him; the way in which her hand had wiped her face just then told him what he needed to know. After all that time filled exchanging bitter remarks, Orlando's had been the first to draw blood.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, if that's what he'd done. Of course, he presumed he had- Tealyr Montague wasn't one to cry easily. Part of him felt a sick sense of satisfaction- as though he'd given her what she'd been asking for. Another part of him, though, wanted to run over and take the woman- his friend- in his embrace and apologize for everything. But there was yet another part of him that prevented both things from occurring: the confused part.
What was happening? It was as though, in the last half-hour, everything Orlando had known to be true in the world had suddenly become false: Faithe didn't love him, Tealyr cared about him... Everything was turned upside- down.
Her soft words seem to hold a sense of defeat to them- something foreign to the woman's normally strong, confident voice- and Orlando's mien seemed to soften drastically, almost into an apologetic one. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what could be- or should be said, thus he remained silent.
Watching her as she retreated, his hand reached out absentmindedly, as though he could magically stop her by doing so. There was a nagging voice in his mind, telling him that, if he let her go, she would tell her mother about him and Faithe. But, looking at her, he knew otherwise. Something had happened to Tealyr Montague in the last three minutes that changed her, wounded her...
"I do care about you, Orlando...well, no, scratch that. You're right.
I did. I don't anymore....not anymore..." Hearing her hushed words, Orlando didn't know what to think, although it was undeniable that her words had prompted the man's breath to sort of catch in his chest. As aforementioned, everything that seemed right was wrong and everything wrong... right. Thus, he, too, resigned with a sigh and a wipe of his hand over his face.
"I'm sorry, Tealyr..." he whispered, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear.
Looking down as he lost his temper, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her body jumped as she heard the sound of the mirror cracking, her head shooting up. Watching him come closer to her in an attempt to take the glass from her, she shoved back. Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she stood up and backed against the wall.
"Stay away from me." Her voice was now shaky, scared that he would take her weapon away from her. Tightening her hand around the glass, she felt the side of the glass pierce her skin.
"So, what, Jacques? It's good enough for you, but not me? It's ok for you to take your problems out by mutilating your body, but not me? You have no idea what I'm going through." Not even aware of what she was doing, she dug the tip of the glass into her skin. Looking down, she pulled the glass up, watching as the blood trickled down the side of her wrist.
"It's not 'good' at all!" Jacques yelled back, "It's horrible--disgusting-- vile! It weakens you...it makes you a slave to your own negative emotions...anything makes you want to cut! I can't even use a butter knife without thinking about hurting myself with it!"
He slowly, cautiously began to walk around to the other side of the bed, his eyes filled with desperation. They traveled down to the small stream of blood that had started to flow. "Stop it!" he cried, both pleading and demanding, "Faithe, please, stop! Don't do this...please, please don't do this...Of course I don't know what you're going through! I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! Maybe I would have some idea if you would just tell me!"
"Then why did you do it?" Yelling back, she looked back down, squeezing her eyes shut for a few moments before opening them. She felt sick to her stomach. Everything inside of her was churning and she felt as if she were going to be sick.
"I can't, Jacques." Her protest came out more like a whine than anything. Looking down, tears peaked at the corner of her eyes. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't..."
"I can't tell anybody." Dropping her eyes, she stared at the piece of glass in her hand. Faithe? What are you doing? This isn't like you. Her rational voice was trying to speak to her, but she shoved it aside. She was tire of being the rational one. Tired of being the calm, reserved one. Tired of holding everything inside of her.
Piercing her skin once more, she slid the piece of glass up a centimeter before lifting it up. It felt like a release. Swaying slightly, she leaned against the wall to support herself. "I just lost Rosencrantz the best Astronomy teacher its ever had."
Jacques went pale as he saw her cut herself once more. "I thought it would help!" he screamed, "And sure, it does for a while! You can make yourself forget anything if you want to! But after awhile it all comes back, and you realize what you've done, and you're worse off in the first place because not only do you still have the problem in the first place, but now you have a displacement of fluids that can make you go unconscious! Then you've got pain, pain, and only more pain!"
He would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to get the glass away from her. Thus, he advanced towards her again and tried to wrench the piece of glass from her fingers with more conviction, unconcerned as to whether to had to harm himself to do it. "Mr. Lorenz? You lost Mr. Lorenz?" he asked, bewildered, grunting occasionally as he attempted to get the glass from her, "What are you talking about?!"
Her own complexion was beginning to grow whiter as she stood there. Not so much because of the pain, because she was too numb at the moment to feel much of anything. It was as if the realization of what she was doing was slowly beginning to settle into her mind. Leaning against the wall, her eyes drifted up towards where Jacques was walking towards her.
Her irrationality was telling her to move, to get away from her. She needed this piece of glass right now, she was dwelling on it. Faithe was beginning to wake up, staring down at her arm as if seeing it for the first time. When Jacques approached her and made another grab for the piece of glass, she closed her eyes and let her hand fall down to her side. Giving up the piece of glass, she slid down to the floor and hugged her knees. Tears had once more begun to fall down her cheeks as she stared straight ahead, fixated on the bottom of the comforter of the nearest bed.
Something inside of her knew she could trust Jacques with what all was going on, but she was still holding back. Turning her wrist towards her, she rested her head on her knees and stared at what she had done to herself. Closing her eyes, she felt like she was going to be sick. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath.
"Jacques, since September, Orlando Lorenz and I have been seeing each other. We've kept from everybody...except tonight, Tealyr Montague spotted us." Speaking slowly and softly, her voice came out shakey still. Reaching up, she placed her hand on her forehead as she lifted her head off her knees. Her head bobbled forward for a moment as if she were going to faint, but she lifted it back up, keeping her eyes closed.
Jacques took the glass carefully, making sure he didn't slice his hand even more. He quickly walked over to the trash and dropped it in, still breathing rapidly from the commotion that had just happened. He hesitated for a moment, putting his unbloodied hand to his forehead. Opening his eyes, he walked into the bathroom and snatched up some washcloths from beside the sink.
He wet them and then wrung out the excess water as he listened to everything that Faithe was saying. Jacques' eyes widened and he glanced at Faithe hesitantly, but he knew her better than to make up some sort of story about this. Biting his lip, he scrambled through the drawers for some First Aid potion and found a small vial of it. He shook his head and walked back over to where Faithe was, kneeling down beside her and taking her wrist gently in one of his hands.
He was silent for a little while. Occasionally, he would glance up at her doubtfully, as if unsure that what he was hearing was real. Jacques cleaned up her wound--if she would let him--with the wet washcloths and gestured for her to press one of the washcloths on it while he went back into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
"Faithe," he said quietly, filling up a glass of water, "You know that...you know that I'm your friend, and I'll stick by you in whatever you do...and I'll think nothing less of you...but...I don't know what to say..."
His bare feet treaded the carpet as he walked back over to her and kneeled down beside her again. "Drink this," he instructed in his usual soft-spoken manner, "You need to replace the fluids you've lost..." Jacques lifted the washcloth and winced as he poured the healing potion over the cut, which smoked and stung but was the most effective healing potion known to wizardkind. The only thing left would be a scar. Biting his lip again, his silver-blue eyes looked up into hers doubtfully and he awkwardly stood up, finally turning his attentions to his wounded hand.
"I'm sorry about the punching the mirror," he apologized softly, blushing and averting his eyes from her, "I don't know what came over me...I can be so stupid sometimes..."
Watching him carefully, Faithe expected him to get angry and run out of the room. Slightly surprised that he did neither, she swallowed a hard lump down her throat. Wincing as the wet washcloth touched her skin, her entire arm jumped slightly at the stinging sensation. Biting her bottom lip, a small whimper escaped her throat.
Looking up at him as he spoke, she released a grief filled sigh. "Jacques..." Biting her lip, she looked away from him for a few moments before looking back at him. "Remember that night we met? You were asking me about the comet he had discovered? The truth is...it was sort of named after me. I hated to lie to you, but I couldn't tell you." Taking the glass from him, she sipped on it slowly.
Her body was still trembling slightly, and her head still spinning, but she was beginning to gain a better grasp on herself. Even though she felt like everything she had eaten the past day was about to come up any minute, the water helped choke it all back down. Staring apprehensively at the smoking potion, she started inching her body away, not liking the look of the potion.
When he poured the potion over her wrist, a small cry escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally opened her eyes. Had tears not already been forming in her eyes, they certainly would have by now. A small tear fell down her left cheek as she watched him stand up.
"Jacques, you aren't stupid. I put you in a bad position, and I'm sorry. That was my fault. All this is my fault..." Looking down, she released another sigh as she rested her elbow on her knee, and rested her forehead on the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry I dredged up something so unpleasant for you. I was being selfish. To be honest, I thought you had stopped and all those scars were just from a long time ago." Sitting up straight, she looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Jacques, what is going on?"
Wiping the blood from his knuckles, Jacques hesitated. It pained him greatly to listen to Faithe's cries and for a moment he doubted if he had done the right thing. However, he realized that he had indeed done what should've been done and she might've been worse off had the wound not been cleaned, sterilized, and healed properly. He gathered up the washcloths with his wand and levitated them into the sink, magically turning on the faucet so that the red substance would be rinsed out. Leaving bloody cloths around the room would definitely draw suspicion.
"You don't need to apologize--I understand...completely...It's alright...we both were keeping our respective secrets, I guess." He paused and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking the healing potion and pouring it on himself. More silence ensued as he grimaced in pain. Once the concoction had taken its toll, he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
Part of him wanted to play it off. Part of him wanted to latch onto his secret, his unknown addiction. He had longed for the courage to share things with someone all this time...and now that he had the opportunity, it was harder than he had imagined.
"I've...I haven't stopped, alright?" he said quickly, his words coming out in a frenzy, almost as if he was being accused of some crime and admitting to it. Realizing how resentful his words sounded, he lessened his tone. "I've been doing it for about six or seven months now...I haven't been able to even make an effort to stop...It's just too...I need it too much. It makes me feel good...to think that...that this is my revenge, sort of. This is how I can forget things. But it's...it's everything I said to you..."
He forcefully started to wipe this eyes, tearing his glasses off and making a futile attempt to stop the tears that insisted on coming. "I thought...I thought that if people knew, then...then they would think less of me...I thought if you knew...you might see me as weak...and I know it's bad, I've realized that...but I can't stop it...I'm not strong enough...I'm just...I'm just incompetent..."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he near-whispered, looking at her now, "I'm sorry that...you have to go through everything that you're going through...You and Mr. Lorenz, and that awful Montague...and you have to listen to me and my whining, and see me like this...I'm so stupid...It's not right, Faithe...you're great, and you shouldn't have to go through all of this...me, on the other hand...I'm not so sure..."
Keeping her eyes on him as best she could, there were a few moments when Faithe had to close her eyes and lean her head back to keep from fainting. Taking a deep breath, she scooted up the wall to a standing position and walked slowly towards the bed where he was sitting. Sitting down next to him, she placed both of her hands on the edge of the bed and leaned forward slightly, closing her eyes.
Listening to him speak, a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt guilty more than anything else. Her mouth had upset many people, particularly two of the closest people she had to her. Opening her eyes, she kept her focus on the floor, too ashamed to face him. She'd had no idea he was still doing this to himself, and if she had, she certainly wouldn't have said a lot of the things she did.
Finally forcing herself to look at him, she reached over and took his hand in hers, "Jacques, you are not stupid or incompetant. And you're certainly stronger than that. You don't need to hurt yourself like that. I know I'm not in much of a position to talk right now, but..." Letting go of his hand, she sighed and laid back on the bed. Resting the back of her hand on her forehead, she swallowed another lump in her throat.
"It's not just the thing with Orlando. I don't know...I guess everything just came crashing down on me tonight. I'm just so tired of everybody's expecatations of me. I'm tired of being 'perfect' Faithe. Everybody expects so much of me, and I've spent the past eight years doing what other people want me to do rather than what I want to do." Turning over on her side, she stared at the dresser in front of the bed.
"Jacques, you don't deserve bad things. Nobody does. We all screw up and make mistakes, that doesn't mean we deserve bad things. You're wonderful." Reaching out, she squeezed his arm lightly.
"Most people would have walked out on me tonight, but you didn't. To be honest, I'm surprised you can still bear to look at me." Looking up at him from her position, there was almost a look of doubt on her face. She truly expected him to completely shun her and leave. "I know it isn't considered good morale to be dating a teacher..."
"But I don't think that will be a problem after tonight. I'd be surprised if he ever even wanted to look at me again."
Sniffing, Jacques wiped his eyes once more. He blushed as she took his hand, but looked at her and listened to everything she said in earnest. A sigh drifted from his lips as his eyes traveled elsewhere. He wanted to believe what she was saying about him so badly, but yet...he just couldn't bring himself to accept it...
He nodded slowly as Faithe detailed her problems. He could understand, somewhat, her point of view, even if he had never really had anyone expect demanding things of him. It tore him apart to see her go through this. Faithe was pretty much the only person who hadn't walked out on him.
"Of course I can still bear to look at you," he replied quietly, slightly puzzled as to why he wouldn't be able to. "I would...I would never walk out on you, Faithe. You're...you're all I've got in regards to friends." He said the last part bitterly and somewhat hurriedly, casting his eyes downward and curling his lip slightly. After a moment, he glanced up at her again and continued.
"I mean, you love him...It's not like he's sixty-five or anything...I don't think that it would've been any different if you would've met him outside of school...It could be worse...." he trailed off, and then tilted his head slightly. "Why do you think he won't want to look at you? You said that Montague saw you...it's not like you told on him or anything...that's not anyone's fault...especially not yours..."
"A lot of people look up to you Jacques. I don't know how you don't see that." Sitting up, she groaned as her hand rested on her stomach. On the verge of puking, she moved her hand from her stomach to her mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick..."
Laying back down, she took a deep breath. Never one to have a high tolerance of pain, or to have a strong stomach, she feared getting sick. If it happened once, she had a tendancy to remain sick for some time.
"I do love him, but he doesn't believe that anymore. I told him that...that I was leaving. I didn't want to cost him his job, and so I told Tealyr Montague that I would be leaving tonight, and neither of them would hear from me again. And I meant it..." Rubbing her eyes, she stood up, rushing towards the bathroom.
Slamming the door shut behind her, she fell to her knees, resting her head on the toilet seat. Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes groaning.
Frowning, Jacques watched her worriedly. His eyes widened as she rushed to the bathroom and he hesitated before going over to the door and rapping on it.
"Er...Faithe? Faithe, are you okay?"
Feeling the wave of nausea pass, she sat back against the wall. Pulling her ponytail off her neck, she sat there for a few moments in the silence. Finally forcing herself on her feet, she walked over to the door and opened it. Leaning against the door frame, she nodded.
"Fine." Swallowing, she looked at him intently. Despite the look in her eyes that said 'I'm going to be sick' there was a concerned expression in her eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Jacques waited patiently outside of the bathroom, resisting the urge to throw open the door and make sure she was alright. Seeing her exit, he took a step back to give her some room. "Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly and distractedly.
Sighing, he went back and took a seat on his bed. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?" he inquired softly.
Following him, only a bit slower, she sat down on his bed. Stretching out on her side so she could face him, she studied him intently.
"Yes, you can get me something. The truth."
Jacques furrowed his brows slightly. He asked, with a bit of apprehension, "What do you mean?"
Faithe knew she was treading on dangerous waters with him right now, but she figured of all times, now would be the time to do it.
"Something had to have pushed you to the point of hurting yourself. What was it?"
Jacques stared at Faithe sorrowfully for a moment, with an almost stricken expression, one that asked Why are you asking me this? However, he couldn't bring himself to disregard her quiery.
He began quietly, "It wasn't just one thing. It was a whole bunch of things, actually. I mean, I didn't grab my knife one night and suddenly decide to cut myself. Okay, that's a lie...I actually kind of did. But it was more like all of these negative things, they've been building up inside of me...it was like a dam burst."
Sighing, he picked at the cover on the bed absentmindedly. He was still blushing, embarrassed by his actions and thinking that saying all this must've tainted him in her eyes. "People...I talked to you about people...I hate people," he muttered, "I hate bigots and idiots...ugh...and imbeciles who think that they're in some divine position to judge you..."
He trailed off, shaking his head.
For a moment, Faithe thought he was going to get angry with her. Then again, she wouldn't have blamed him had he lashed out at her verbally. An almost apprehensive expression crossed her face, but softened when her spoke. Listening to him speak, she gradually sat up, her motions rather slow.
"Jacques, I feel like there's something you aren't telling me." Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gently squeezing it.
"I'm not here to judge you. I just want to be able to help you. You're an amazing friend, and I don't want to push you into telling me anything. I just...I want to know what set all this off."
Jacques glanced away. "I'm just...I'm tired of my life..." he said in earnest. That sounded extremely melodramatic even to his own ears, and he was blushing for the third or fourth time that evening. He shook his head slightly, very, very embarrassed.
"It's exasperating...having people pick on you...and having this stupid reputation that you don't even want...I'm sure you know about that..." he continued, not making eye contact with Faithe. He stopped and shook his head again, looking at Faithe now and blushing even more. "What am I saying...here I am, dumping out all my problems to you...and you just went through the breakup of the century..."
He put his hands to his forehead and stood up, pacing a bit. "I'm sorry...I can be so, so stupid sometimes..."
Tilting her head as she listened to him, Faithe fought the urge to hug him. She had gone through those times where she felt desolate, but she had simply buried herself in more school work to forget about it. Shaking her head, she lowered her eyes.
"No, if you have a problem, I'm here for you no matter what. People break up all the time. That whole thing was about everything going wrong..." Looking up as he stood up, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as he called himself stupid, again.
Reaching out, she grabbed his hand as he passed by her in an attempt to stop him.
"Jacques, you are not stupid. Listen, what is so wrong with having a reputation of being one of the most intellegant students in the school? Yes, it brings teasing and torment, but who's going to be better off in the end? If they aren't willing to get to know you, and see how wonderful of a friend you are, then they don't deserve your friendship."
((Brandi, I hope it's alright that I kind of made up some stuff about Orlando and Tealyr's past. If you don't like something, lemme know and I'll change it))
[I]"And then there was one."[/I]
Alone upon the promenade deck, Orlando Lorenz felt more alone and more confused than he'd ever been in his life. There was no one around him, but that wasn't what made the man feel so terribly isolated, it was more the fact that he had been on the SS Ecstasy for not much more than an hour and already, somehow, the entire cruise was ruined. Faithe had abandoned him. Tealyr had abandoned him. The world had abandoned him.
He didn't walk to the railing, nor did he sit upon the deck bench within three feet of him. Instead, the twenty-two year old just stood there upon the deck, as though he was frozen to the spot by some invisible force. Every now and then, a gentle zephyr would blow, breaking the calm night air and ruffling the man's hair a bit; every now and then, the man's eyes would close and he'd imagine that it was Faithe's hand playing with his dark locks.
Letting out a sigh, the man finally gave a sign of life: his head leaned back as he cast his eyes to the sky. A thousand glorious stars dotted the blackness, giving it a sort of phantasmagoric sparkle. Among those stars lay the Holloway Comet, who, at the moment, was just passing through the constellation Libra: the scale, the balance, the equalizer. Perhaps it was a sign that Orlando was just getting what he deserved.
But for what was he being punished? For falling in love with Faithe? Or, did it go back further? Perhaps he was being reprimanded for Demeter, and what being with her had done to not only Demeter herself, but to Tealyr. Since the first day of Rosencrantz until the infamous "morning after", she'd really been the man's first true friend. She had always been there to listen to him, and he had done the same for her. They'd cared about each other, watched over the other, helped them. There hadn't ever been a time Orlando could remember not coming to Tealyr first about anything- and she'd always been there. Whatever it was, he had known he could tell her. True, he had never told her his deepest, darkest secrets, but he hadn't told those to anybody (at the time), and, had he, she would have been the first to know.
She was, after all, the first (and, for the most part, only) to know everything about Orlando's life in all seven of their years at Rosencrantz together. He told her everything from having received an "E" on his Potions OWL and how he'd given ten points to a nice Iris third year who'd held the library door for him to his suspicion that the Astronomy teacher didn't exactly know the difference between a spiral and a conical galaxy and his growing admiration of various Rosencrantz girls. including one such Demeter Elisabeth Lawrance.
It had been at the mention of her name when he'd first felt uncomfortable with Tealyr. Her face had contorted itself and her mouth had done the same. She hadn't liked Demeter much evidently, and had warned Orlando to stay away from the Nike, advising him that she was bad news. He hadn't listened, though. It had been the only piece of Tealyr's advice he'd never followed, and, consequently, the one thing that haunted him to this day. After he and Demeter had begun seeing each other, he had, foolishly, given up his friendships. Although it began as just seeing the other young woman during the few inter-house classes they shared and perhaps an hour or so every Friday night, it wasn't more than a month later that nearly every waking moment of Orlando's was spent with Demeter, save the few where he had to remain within the walls of Athena, and it was only then when he would allow Tealyr some time with him. It was also then when their relationship began to hit rocks. Every conversation held scornful remarks concerning Demeter, and how Orlando really ought to get away from her now, before something happened. Too infatuated, and in love, with the young woman, he hadn't listened.
Then after school, after the post-graduation summer, after a year of schooling up at Cepheus, and after not speaking to her for all that time, Orlando had sent an owl to Tealyr Soleil Montague, informing her of what had happened the past night and asking her for help. But the sort of help she offered wasn't what he was looking for, and, soon, he'd lost the friend he had once treasured above all else in the world forever. Certainly such a grave error ought to be punished, yet taking Faithe from him didn't seem like a corresponding castigation.
Swallowing at the thought of his pristine angel, Orlando ran a hand over his face, sighing with frustration as he wondered what had happened there. He still didn't understand how things had turned themselves around so quickly. She was gone. Why, though? Then again, it didn't really matter, because the fact of the matter was that he'd let her go. More than that, he'd [I]told[/I] her to go. Again, he asked himself "Why?"
There he was, standing upon the deck, wishing for her to reappear just so he could hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, yet, moments earlier, he had told her to go. True, he had been caught off guard and hurt by her threatening to leave- especially doing so in a manner that hinted that she didn't have even the slightest problem with leaving him- but why had he allowed spite to overcome him to the point where he told Faithe to leave? He didn't know.
Letting out another sigh, an idea came to the man. Slowly, he began walking along the deck, casually running his hand absentmindedly along the railing until he reached his destination: the ship's office. Wandering inside the open door frame, he knocked lightly upon it to announce his arrival to the receptionist.
"Could you please tell me Isabelle Cunningham's room number? She just graduated from Rosencrantz Academy this past spring."
"We have a strict policy about..."
"I'm a Professor there," Orlando replied quickly, "I need to speak with her concerning an urgent opportunity for her post-Rosencrantz life."
"Can't it wait until morning, sir? I'm sure you can speak with her about it during breakfast."
"It needs to be taken care of right now."
The receptionist finally gave in as she looked at him through pursed lips over the top of her paperback novel. "Fine..." She told him her room number and he smiled gratefully.
Walking down the deck, the man noticed he was nearly shaking. And then, as he raised his hand to knock upon the door, he found that he couldn't. What if she didn't want to see him? What if she had been serious about leaving? What if she was already gone?
Shaking his head, the man took a deep breath and knocked upon the door several times.
"But Faithe," he sighed, turning to face her, "I don't want to be 'one of the most' anything! I just want people to leave me alone...Even some of the other Athenas don't like me! It's not like I asked to be Prefect..."
He slid his hand out of her grasp and slowly backed up against the door, leaning on it and losing his eyes frustratedly. "When I was younger, I was invisible. Nobody except my father paid me any attention. Then the school told me I was intelligent, and the whole world was against me...I thought it would be better at Rosencrantz, but it's not, it never--"
A sudden knocking from the other side of the door startled him greatly, causing him to flinch and quickly take a step back from the door. He was an absolute bundle of nerves. Shaking his head, he turned his trembling frame towards the door and peeked through the little glass hole in the door. His eyes widened and he stared at Faithe, mouthing nervously, "It's Lorenz...what should I do?"
Opening her mouth to speak to Jacques, she closed it sharply at the sound of knocking. Swallowing with difficulty, she closed her eyes as Jacques peaked out the eye hole. It was either Orlando, Tealyr, or the Headmistresses. Opening her eyes, she caught his eyes as he looked at her. Taking a shakey breath, she sat there for a moment, staring at her hands.
After a few moments of awkward silence, she stood up. Grabbing an oversized sweatshirt, she threw it on over her shirt. She had a feeling he was angry enough at her without adding another factor the the whole thing. The sweater had always been a favorite of hers because the sleeves fell to just past her fingertips;however, tonight she was thankful for the shirt.
Stepping up next to Jacques, she laid her hand on the doorknob. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to will herself to turn hte knob. Looking up at Jacques, there was a look of defeat in her eyes.
"I can't do this...can I?"
"I don't know," Jacques whispered, crossing his arms anxiously over his shirt. He had failed to notice the little red splatters on it. He peered at the door cautiously. "I could answer it...tell them that you're not feeling well...no, that might raise awkward questions...ugh..."
Jacques took a step back. "Do you want me to...er...hide in the closet or something? Leave? I don't mind..."
Sighing, she shook her head. "No. We aren't doing anything. You have no reason to hide because we don't have anything to hide." Looking at him for a few more silent moments, she finally turned her gaze back towards the door. Turning the knob, she opened the door, biting her bottom lip.
At the sight of him, Faithe's breath caught in her throat. Swallowing, she stepped aside so he could come in, assuming that's why he was here.
Allowing the final knock to resounate through the silent, nighttime air, Orlando let his fingers relax as he dropped his hand to his side. All he could do was wait... and allow thoughts and crazy scenarios to plague his mind.
How could he have done that? Told her to leave, that was. She must have thought he didn't care about her. After all, wasn't that was telling her to basically "get lost" implied? Sure, she may have brought it up, but he told her it was a good idea. He hadn't said "if that's what you want"- that would be forgivable; he had told her it was a good idea, implying that he wanted her to leave. Why had he done such a stupid thing?
Noticing how the door still remained closed, Orlando leaned his head back, casting his eyes to the sky as he let out a sound that was a mixed of a sob and a sigh. He didn't bother to logic anything out at that point in time; his mind told him that she'd already left. Faithe Cunningham was gone from his life forever, and it was because he had told her to leave.
Pursing his lips together, tears appeared in his eyes, intensifying the brilliant blue color of them, and a feeling of utter despair that he hadn't felt for two years exactly came down upon him. Once more, he found himself alone, and he didn't know why.
Walking back to the door, he raised his hand to knock again, yet all it did was fall softly upon the door and run down, followed by the man's eyes. Shaking his head as he looked at the ground, he bit his lip. There was no use in waiting any longer; she had gone.
As he turned, the man absentmindedly placed his hands in his pockets, only to have his fingers feel a familiar velvet box bumping gently against them- what significance that box holds should be obvious to the reader. It was at that point when the man let out a hushed, choking sob and wiped his hand down his face, ridding himself of the few tears that had fallen.
It seemed like everything was lost to him just then, as if he'd been living his life wrong all along- as if his time at Rosencrantz had been nothing and he was still the same old worthless little boy he had been in Ewa Beach. No matter what he did, nothing would ever be as he desired; he would always, somehow, screw things up. He had ruined his family, stolen Demeter's innocence, lost Tealyr's friendship, and, now, destroyed whatever he had had with Faithe. Perhaps fate had only been toying with him again...
Then, when it seemed as if all hope was gone, the man heard a door open. Stopping in his tracks (he hadn't gone more than three paces from the door), his head looked over his shoulder and his lips pursed themselves together.
"Faithe..."
He breathed her name in a voice that was barely audible as he turned himself towards her, hands still in his pockets.
He had been so sure that she had left, but there she was. Above all, he was confused. The feelings and thoguhts he was experiencing had changed so much in the past ten minutes that he didn't know if he could trust himself. A part of him wanted to lift her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, another part told him to turn around and never come back because she didn't want him anymore, another part advised him to simply stand there and let her speak first...
Taking another breath, he adverted his gaze from her. Eyes were the gateway to one's soul, and he didn't want her seeing anything at the moment. Slowly and silently, he walked through the door and turned around just inside to face her, yet his eyes looked just beyond hers, not into them.
"Is this a bad time?" he asked, with a foreign undercurrent of spite running through his voice as he gestured towards Jacques.
Jacques took a step back from the door uncomfortably. He didn't feel like he should be here. He didn't want to intrude upon their privacy, especially when dealing with such a delicate issue...but he didn't know where else to go. Lorenz was blocking the door and it wasn't like he could go back to his room--this was his room.
Upon hearing the Professor's words, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. He glanced towards Faithe, and then back at the Professor. As the insinuations behind Lorenz' words settled upon him, Jacques made an indignant, disbelieving noise. He was shocked...and speechless.
Faithe's eyebrows rose in surprise at the tone Orlando's voice took. After the shock of his meaning wore off, her eyebrows furrowed together in a look of pain. How many times did he plan on spitting spiteful comments in her face? Dropping her eyes to the floor, she crossed her arms, more for the comfort of hugging herself than anything.
Feeling slightly light headed, she made her way to her bed. Sitting down on it, she pulled her knees to her chest. She couldn't meet his eyes - she was scared of him. Did he come here to rag on her for losing him his job? Faithe knew he had to hate her by now, and she was terrified that he was about to tell her much.
Of course Orlando hadn't presumed what his words insinuated. He knew Jacques, and he knew Faithe better. Neither of them would do such a thing. So, why, one might ask, did he let such a scathing comment escape his lips? Certainly it wasn't in his character to do such a thing. It was a combination of the effect of the hurt and confusion he was feeling in the moment, if anything. He didn't want to appear as desperate as he was, and, so, almost like Demeter, he resorted to bitter remarks to portray such an image. It was better to appear unfeeling than to let Faithe see how much he needed her if she didn't want him the same way.
Then again, although it had seemed like a good idea, the second the words left his mouth Orlando was regretful they had. Pursing his lips together, he gnawed nervously on his tongue, watching Faithe seem to shrivel before him, cowering in fear of him. So overwhelmed by this was he that he took no notice of Jacques. Faithe was afraid of him, and that stuck the man down as nothing ever had before. The inner conflict brewing within him was horrible.
He loved her, but with everything going on, he didn't know if she still loved him... or, for that matter, had ever loved him. The words of Tealyr, his parents and Faithe herself all played through his mind, changing his thoughts incessantly. He wanted everything to be like it had been before Tealyr had come in and ruined it all. Then again, if he hadn't been so foolish, she wouldn't have been able to. It had been he who was at fault.
Closing his eyes for a moment, the man's hardened mien softened as he ran his hand down his face, turning his head to the side to a moment just to save himself from having to look at either Jacques or Faithe. Now he was embarrassed for having said such a thing. It wasn't like him, and he knew it.
"That was uncalled for..." he stated quietly, apologizing in a sense for his comment.
Turning back to them, he breathed in quietly and stepped away from the door, thereby leaving Jacques an exit should he desire to utilize it. Truly, he sort of hoped Jacques would leave; the less people who knew about him and Faithe, the better. But, if he wouldn't leave, Orlando wouldn't ask him to.
Sighing, he cast his eyes upon Faithe.
"Do you love me?"
Looking up at him, a pained look of incredulity crossed her face. Despite the fact that she still felt like every food item she'd eaten was about to revisit her, Faithe stood up and walked over to him.
"How can you ask me that Orlando?" Crossing her arms across her chest, her gaze fell to the floor. Was this why he'd come here? To toy with her emotions? How could he doubt her feelings for him? If she didn't love him, would she have stuck around after he walked in on him jamming his tongue down his ex-girlfriend's throat? Taking a deep breath, she was very thankful that her last thought didn't come out verbally.
It did feel rather weird to be having this conversation in front of Jacques, but it wasn't as if he didn't know what was going on. Her eyes flitted across the floor, settling on the broken glass that was still on the ground.
Jacques eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them, his expression unreadable. What he could see was that neither of them wanted him to be there. He sighed, quite audibly, and snatched up his weathered copy of Plato's Republic off of the nightstand. The tension in the room was too thick. He couldn't breathe.
"I'll be back," he informed Faithe, not entirely suceeding in keeping his own voice free of anger. Shooting Lorenz a look of burning hatred, he made his way out of the door and down the corridor. He took the first available retreat, which happened to be the elevator, and slid down against the wall as the paneled doors closed. Closing his eyes, he removed his glasses and massaged his temple. This was too much...
Gnawing absentmindedly upon his tongue, Orlando met her gaze. The question was out now, and he no longer had a reason to hide his vulnerability. It had shown through in his voice, and would certainly be visible in his eyes just then. His heart was in her hands; he loved her, and he needed her, but he wasn't sure she felt the same anymore.
"How can you ask me that Orlando?" How could he ask her that? How could he not? After everything they'd been through and shared, she had been the one to put a rift in their relationship the second Tealyr had entered their world. It was as though whatever feelings she had weren't strong enough to survive something trying, but they had already done so so many times. Why, then? Perhaps she was ashamed of him, or embarrassed to be with him in front of anyone save Jake and Kaytlin.
'Who wouldn't be, though?' he asked himself as feelings of worthlessness flooded his mind, recalling the very feelings he had been unable to escape as a boy. He wasn't good-looking (in his opinion, of course; the author, on the other hand, finds him to be an irrestiably sexy), and didn't have too much going for him other than his intelligence, which could really be taken as a disadvantage as well.
"Because I don't know, Faithe," he replied in a tone that was flooded with pleading, hurt and, most of all, confusion.
"I don't want you to leave, but I'm not going to ask you to stay if you don't feel about me how I feel about you..."
He trailed off there into inaudibility, although the rest of his words had been barely audible themselves. They were a sort of whisper, but were more distinct.
Slightly taken back at the tone in Jacques voice as he left, an apologetic expression crossed her face. She felt so bad for him. He had just seen her through one of the scariest moments in her life, and now she knew he had to feel as if he were being kicked to the curb. She would find him later and talk to him - he didn't deserve to be pushed out like this.
Turning back to Orlando, her eyes filled with tears at his insinuation that she didn't want to be with him. After everything they had been through, she didn't want to be with anybody else. She couldn'tbe with anybody else. Whether or not tonight was the last time she ever saw Orlando, and that very thought alone was enough to almost make her knees give out on her, she knew she could never care about anybody even nearly as deeply as she cared about Orlando.
The fact that he was doubting her, killed her. It was almost enough to tempt her to get rid of him and go back to finding that solstice she had found with cutting herself. How she had managed to lose her rationality to do something like that was still shocking to her. Knowing that she had found comfort in it, terrified her. Still more, the fact that she was considering picking it up again, almost made her sick. Pulling her gaze from the shattered glass, she looked back up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Orlando, you're my world." Speaking softly, her voice cracked as she fought back the urge to bust into sobs. Closing her eyes for amoment, she made an attempt to halt her tears, but to no avail.
"Do you hate me for possibly losing your job?" She had to know. So positive that he felt angry towards her, Faithe had to know just how much disdain he felt for her at the moment.
Seeing the tears overflow in Faithe's sorrowful brown eyes, Orlando felt an unswallowable lump appear in his throat. In that moment, he knew he'd hurt her. She loved him- her eyes told him so- and he felt absolutely terrible that he'd ever doubted such a thing. Then again, he had had reason to doubt, hadn't he? If she loved him, she wouldn't have acted like she hadn't, right?
No, that wasn't the case. Orlando knew from personal experience that sometimes, when emotions run high, things are said that aren't meant. He'd been guilty of such a crime just a few short minutes ago. What right did he have to hold something like that against her? None.
At her words, the man had nearly choked. All those fears of the whole saga having been no more than a dream, of Faithe not wanting him anymore... everything was wiped out in a reliving epiphany of sorts. Making a futile attempt to rid his throat of the lump, he swallowed, shutting his eyes as his did so, only to open them a few moments later. Gazing into Faithe's eyes, he did all he could to keep the few tears in his eyes from escaping, blinking a few times until their threat had passed.
"Then why are we--" he began with an almost laugh embedded in his voice, stopping speaking only because Faithe had started.
His job? Was all this truly about his job? Although it was no secret that Orlando adored his job and wouldn't trade it for any other in the world (well, maybe that last part was a bit of a secret), he wouldn't even have to think if he was ever forced to choose between it and Faithe. If he had to choose between anything and Faithe, she would always come first.
"Hate you?" he repeated incredulously, taking a few steps towards her. "Never, Faithe."
He hadn't planned on losing control, but as he got closer to her, he couldn't help but let himself slip. Everything was going to be alright now, it seemed.
Placing his hands upon her shoulders, his head tilted slightly as he shook his head at her, still trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"My job isn't worth losing you," he said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed upon hers as his hands slid down her arms around wrapped around her, linking their fingers together as they met upon her lower back.
"Nothing, Faithe, is worth losing you."
As he stepped towards her, her stance seemed to shrink. She was still expecting him to reprimand her. Hearing him speak in a tone that was different from how he had been speaking earlier, Faithe felt a little bit more comfort. If he were to yell at her, he would have done it already. Still, seeing him trying to hold in the emotions she could see through his eyes, caused her own lump to form.
Feeling his hands move from her shoulders down her arms, a large part of her wished that she could feel his skin on her arms. However, she knew that was impossible at the moment. As his arms wrapped around her waist, she took a step forward, mainly so there wouldn't be so much strain. Looking up at him, there was a slightly fearful expression on her face.
"So, I did lose you your job?" There was a melancholy note in her voice as her eyes dropped. Though he thought she was worth the loss of his job, Faith felt more guilt than she ever had in her life. It was because of her that he was now unemployed. How could he support himself now? Whatever happened to him from this point on was her fault.
"I'm so sorry Orlando."
Tilting his head inquisitively as her face took on an apprehensive look, Orlando's eyes narrowed slightly, wondering why she was still afraid. Her fear seemed to have lessened, at least; he could now allow himself to believe that she was no longer scared of him, which was much appreciated. And then, as she spoke, telling him the cause of her distress, the man couldn't help the small smile that played upon his lips. After all this, everything they'd gone through that evening, she still was worried about his job. And, more than that, worried that she had caused him to lose his job.
"Not at all," he replied quietly, "None of this is your fault, Faithe, and don't let yourself think any of it is, not even for a second."
Shaking his head, he pulled her closer to himself, untangling his fingers from each other in order to have a free hand. Reaching up, he laid this hand upon the back of her neck and gently guided her head to his shoulder, pressing her body tightly against his chest.
"Don't be sorry," he whispered into her ear before gently kissing the top of her head (or, if she was looking up at him then, her forehead), "Besides, nothing's been done and I don't think Tealyr's going to say anything. Not yet, anyways."
Seeing him smile, a perplexed expression crossed her face. Why was he smiling at her? She wasn't aware she had said anything funny. It wasn't until he started speaking that she realized that his smile was a good sign that he was still employed. Biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, Faithe allowed her head to be steered to his shoulder.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her body to melt into his. Tears were still falling down her cheeks, but she didn't even notice them anymore. Everything seemed as if it would be all right in the end. Orlando's here...of course everything's ok.
"She didn't believe me at all, did she?" Not that it mattered, but Faithe couldn't resist the urge to ask. It hadn't been her best performance, but she had been too emotional to think of a better explanation. Of course, Orlando running after her probably didn't help. Sighing, she buried her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.
Lifting her head, she slid her hand up and ran her fingers over his jawline. The sleeve of her sweater slid back, stopping just above where her first cut began. Keeping her eyes on his, she searched his eyes deeply.
"I love you."
Holding her close to him, feeling her arms around his waist, the sensation her breath induced upon his skin. Everything about the moment felt right. It was as though, once more, everything was how it should be, and those earlier moments of confusion and hurt had never transpired.
At her question, a smile crept up on the man's lips, which, in all actuality, was really more of a grin. Chuckling slightly, his hand toyed with the loose strands of hair below the tied ribbon, nonchalantly curling them around his fingers as he shook his head. "Not. At. All," he replied softy, with an almost jovial undertone in his voice.
"She knows-" pausing, the man corrected himself, yet still retained that nonchalant/jovial tone in his voice, not really realizing what he was saying, "[I]knew[/I] me to well to think I'd go along with something like that."
Another pause interrupted the conversational flow as Orlando thought. This certainly was the opportune time to tell her about his and Tealyr's past. After all, the young woman most definitely deserved to know, and she was sure to wonder exactly what had transpired between the two after she had retreated to her stateroom. Thinking about just what had happened, the man swallowed and blinked for a second before returning his gaze to Faithe. He had too much regard for her feelings to discuss the matter with her. Demeter had been a shaky topic before Manhattan, and, afterwards, considering they'd never discussed the matter in-depth, he was sure it was even more of an unstable conversation topic for the two. Thus, he chose to pass by that turnoff and continue along the road they were on- back to where they ought to be: together, in love, and happy.
Tilting his head towards her fingers in order to meet her gaze, Orlando smiled. Had his eyes not been completely fixated on hers, they might have wandered down. Yet, he was almost too afraid not to stare into her eyes just then, fearing she would further inquire about Tealyr. Then again, she would probably get around to doing so anyways.
"Mmm," he replied, smiling softly and still absentmindedly winding her hair around his fingers ever so often, "I love you, too, [I]ma Foi[/I]."
((Mmk, I was going to have him lean down to kiss her and then, while pulling back, see the cut, but I didn't want to have two major events going on "at once" so to speak. Just didn't want you to think I was ignoring that, 'cause I want him to see what she did, but wanted to leave you the opportunity to have her ask about Tealyr if you wanted to without getting all overwhelmed with plotishness. Oh, and pre-season camp is all this week, so, I'll do what I can, but don't expect much in the way of replies.))
A sort of pouty smile crossed her face as Orlando confirmed that Tealyr had not believed a word she said. Shrugging slightly, she sighed as her eyes fell to the ground. Staring at the carpet, her eyes blurred as her focus grew fuzzy. Shaking her head, she turned her head back up to look at him.
"Hence the reason Jake always came up with the lies, and I played them out. I'm not a good liar, unless I've had time to prepare for it. I was just desperate to turn the heat off of you, and it was the first thing that popped into my head." A half smirk crossed her face, but her eyes were still troubled. Faithe felt like she was hiding something from him. Well, she was hiding something from him. She didn't like how that felt though, but she was too scared to tell him. Realizing her sleeve had falled back some, she dropped her arm for a moment, allowing the sleeve to once again cover her hand. Reaching back up, she wrapped her arm around his neck. Her eyes halfway closed as she felt his hands in her hair, giving her the appearance of a cat when you found that special spot. Finally allowing her eyes to close when his soft voice had penetrated her heart, she rested her foreheard against his chin. Had she been taller, it might have been his forehead, but since Orlando was half a foot taller than Faithe, the chin was all she could reach.
"What happened after I left then?" Looking up at him, her eyes were back to being alert, as was her attention. "If you don't think she'll tell, then obviously something good happened." At least, that's what she hoped. He hadn't altered Montague's memory, because he said that she hadn't told yet.
Shaking his head at her recollection of her childhood (or so he presumed), Orlando offered a grin. He was a horrible liar as well; it was one of his many flaws. Then again, perhaps not being a good liar wasn't really a flaw; it proved his honesty.
"Eh," the man replied with a sort of shrug, "you're a good enough actress that you had me fooled enough at one point..." 'and it scared me more than I'll admit.' he finished mentally. It was true, though. Back on the deck, when she had declared that she was leaving and would never see either of them ever again, the resolve in her voice had almost made those words sound like the undeniable truth. In that moment, he'd found himself so lost, confused and positively bewildered that it seemed like he had known nothing about the young woman he had claimed to love.
In spite of those thoughts, Orlando's remark came off sounding like a light- hearted joke- exactly the way he wanted it to sound. Although he had always been reasonably open with Faithe before, the current situation left him feeling as if being completely open with Faithe would make him terribly vulnerable. And, sad to say, the man didn't feel comfortable trusting her like that... Not now, not after she'd actually seemed like she would just walk away from him. It was one thing to have her walk away and pretend that he didn't care too much, but if such a thing ever happened and she knew how much she still meant to him... Just the thought of letting someone get to him like that bothered him.
And, as all these thoughts were flashing through the man's mind, Faithe broke his pensive reverie by resting her forehead on his chin. He'd never really seen her as "short", (ater all, when one is 6' 1" tall, the vast majority of women are shorter than you) but the fact that she couldn't reach his forehead prompted the thought to enter his mind. "You're adorable," he chuckled quietly. "A little short, but adorable..."
Just as the worry about having to tell Faithe about Tealyr left Orlando's mind, her words revived it. Sighing quietly, he leaned his head back, taking her eyes out of his. He hadn't ever kept anything from her, and certainly didn't want to start now. He wanted to tell her everything, but somethings weren't exactly the best conversation material. Although she probably didn't, Orlando currently considered his relationship with Faithe wary; it wasn't as bad as it had been after Manhattan, but it wasn't exactly stable enough to withstand drudging up something that was, in his mind, worse than Manhattan had been.
Shaking his head, he rolled it around so that his eyes were looking at the ground ((hopefully... if Faithe was so close that he wouldn't have been looking at the ground, erm... disregard that and say that he simply looked at the ground to the side of him, as opposed to right in front of him)). Eventually, his head did lift itself back up and his eyes met hers again, although their true color was clouded, perhaps symbolizing something... ((Oooh))
"Yeah..." he replied, not really consciously. "Yeah, Tealyr and I, we talked, and I don't really know what happened, but something I said must've gotten to her, I guess..."
Biting her bottom lip, she turned away at his comment. I wasn't acting when I said that... Of course, there was no sense in vocalizing that thought. Faithe had been prepared to leave, in fact, she still had a boat waiting for her. Not because her feelings for Orlando had changed, but because she knew she couldn't be selfish with him if it would ruin everything he had worked for.
Gasping, she playfully slapped his shoulder. Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out. "I am not short...you're just tall." Muttering, she shot him a fake glare, a small smirk playing at her lips.
A wary expression crossed her face when he shifted his gaze from her. That wasn't normal, and something didn't feel right about it. Feeling apprehensive, she turned her head slightly as she looked at him intently. Her toe dug nervously into the carpet, part of her getting scared by his silence. When he finally did look up at her, she swallowed.
Staring at him, her body tense as he spoke, Faithe's lips rolled inwardly. He's never looked at me like that before.She wanted to believe him, she really did. However, something just wasn't clicking. Taking a step back, she allowed her arms to drop to her side.
"Orlando, what aren't you telling me?"
((Sorry for the load of dialogue at the end, but Orlando's verbose and all, so. *shrugs*))
[I]'As if she wouldn't catch on.[/I]' the man mused to himself. Orlando knew fully well that he was a horrible liar and, worse than that, couldn't make a summed up version of the truth sound any better than a lie, especially when he [I]did[/I] want her to know. The words that had come out of his mouth were indeed the truth, although they portrayed a rather shortened and unemotional version of it. He had left out the part where Tealyr and he got into the heated argument over Demeter, repeating the same insults back and forth at each other as though they were trapped in some sort of time warp and doomed to do so forever. He'd also casually left out how exactly he'd gotten to Tealyr. and the whole past between the two.
Once more, Orlando's eyes left Faithe's, staring past her left side as though there was something of the utmost interest on the stateroom wall. Another sigh passed through he lips and he shook his head again before returning his gaze to hers.
"A lot." he replied, almost in a remorseful tone. In fact, his voice resembled that of a normal little child who had been caught lying to his parents for the first time. He hated lying to Faithe, in any sense of the word. It felt wrong, above all else, and he knew it was only furthering the rift between the two. But to tell her what had happened would hurt her, and to tell her everything. Well, he didn't know how she'd take it- if she could take it at all. And, if she could, he didn't know if she'd stay with him.
The man knew that telling her about his past with Tealyr wouldn't be that difficult, but having to mention Demeter's name would lead the conversation somewhere he didn't want it to go. not with Faithe, nor anyone else. The guilt he felt was still, even after two years, unimaginable, and thinking of it almost made him feel unworthy of Faithe, like he was too heinous of a person to deserve someone as wonderful as her. Not only did speaking about her trudge up buried memories and feelings for Orlando, but he was also sure that it would revive the pain he'd caused Faithe in Manhattan.
If only he'd been strong enough to talk to her about it back then. He hadn't even tried to explain what had happened. Sure, he'd told her he didn't want Demeter anymore- and he didn't, not at the price she would come- but that was all. For all she knew, he'd [I]planned[/I] to meet Demeter in his hotel room, only come to Manhattan to meet with her. That wasn't how it'd happened at all, though. But Faithe didn't know that, she didn't know any of it, and it was because, by the time Orlando finally got her to speak with him, he wanted her back so badly that he didn't want to risk having her by talking to her about Demeter. Now that weak decision was coming back to haunt him. He'd have to talk to her about it sooner or later, or it would just keep getting harder and harder to bring up, and, with each moment that passed, withholding something from her would keep growing into a lie. Now, he was given another opportunity to tell her. but he didn't know if he could take it.
"Look. Faithe." he said quietly, and so unconfidently that his voice sounded foreign to his own ears, as he lifted his hand from his sides and then set them down again, "I'm sorry. I just."
As his voice echoed through his mind, it sounded so weak and pathetic. so unlike him. If there was one feeling in the world that could contort who the man was, it was guilt. So often had he felt that emotion growing up- not knowing what he'd done wrong to be hurt, but knowing that there had to be something he'd done to deserve it. As an adult, it had affected him as well, namely with Demeter, but, again, a little with Adhara, and now with Faithe. The feeling was so strong that it got the better of him, turning him into a babbling fool, incapable of forming complete or even coherent sentences.
Reaching out, he took her hand in his and led her slowly and silently over to the bed where he sat on the edge and weakly tugged at her arm, suggesting she ought to sit down as well. If he got the nerve up to actually say something to her, it would be better said if she were sitting down. ((Okay, I'm god-moding a bit, so I hope it's not too much of a problem that the rest of this post is written as though she [I]did[/I] sit down. I mean, I kinda presumed she would, so. yeah)) Dropping her hand, Orlando's elbows placed themselves onto his knees and he buried his face in his hands for a moment, exhaling loudly.
"Oh." A mix of a sigh and a groan escaped his lips, muffled by his hands, which still covered his face.
Sitting there, so close to her, he felt himself getting nervous- very nervous. He couldn't look at her- the guilt was too strong. It wasn't as though he'd actually done anything wrong, but, in Orlando's mind, just keeping his and Tealyr's past from her was wrong. Granted, there'd never been an opportune time to just casually say "Hey, Faithe, you know Professor Montague? Well, we used to be best friends until I slept with Demeter", but still.
Eventually the man managed to slide his hands down back to his lap, although his eyes still remained in his lap, staring at his hands fixatedly. Making a futile attempt to rid himself of the growing lump he felt in his throat, he swallowed. He wanted her to know, he just didn't want to have to tell her. If only there was a spell to jump to the future, maybe a week later. but there wasn't.
Slowly, he raised his head up. Yet, not being able to look at her, his eyes remained forward, gazing at the wall. He had an opportunity to tell her everything, and he might as well take advantage of it.
"Back, a long time ago, eight years, I think." he began. '[I]Wow, has it really been a whole eight years?[/I] ".when I'd first started at Rosencrantz, I met this girl. She was amazing, really. She was. so. so incredibly intelligent, so sympathetic, so understanding. She was the first person I'd ever known who wasn't. I don't know what she didn't have that everyone else seemed to, but she was my first friend."
Recalling Tealyr like that- how she used to be- reminded the man of just how much she'd meant to him. She'd brought good into his life- something that hadn't really been there before. When he was with her, he felt normal, accepted. like he didn't have anything to be ashamed of. Tealyr would joke around with him and she'd talk to him seriously; she was the first person that had done that- treated him as though he was normal. And now. he'd pushed her aside and she was no longer his friend.
"I could tell her anything, and she could do the same with me." he recalled sorrowfully, "And, by the time we were in our seventh year, we were such exceptionally close friends. but. it didn't last.
"See, there was this other girl. And she was just. strong, lively, beautiful, friendly, extraordinary. She was perfect, and I absolutely adored her. Of course, I told the other girl- my best friend- this. I mean, she was a girl herself, so I figured she ought to be able to help me out. but she didn't like the other girl much. I don't know why, but she told me to stay away from her, that she was 'bad news'.
"I didn't listen, though. Heh. I think that was the only advice of hers I didn't heed, and I think, in some twisted sense, it came back to haunt me, because, after I started seeing this other girl, the first one and I kind of drifted apart. We still talked, but it wasn't like before. And then, after graduation, I didn't even owl her once for an entire year. until I realized that I needed her still.
"See, I'd made."
Thusfar, Orlando'd done a remarkable job of not letting his emotions interfere with his recollection so much that he broke down, but now, recalling that night, and the morning after, they were beginning to display themselves. Tears were forming in his eyes and cascading down his cheeks, and, every so often, he'd have to pause to allow a breathy sob to pass through his lips. Still, though, he kept speaking; if he stopped for too long, he didn't think he'd ever start up again.
"I'd made the worst mistake I ever could have. This girl had trusted me with everything, her life. herself. everything. I was barely twenty then, and she was only nineteen. She was young- we both were.young and stupid, that is. But she. she was innocent. And that innocence. I took it away from her, and I can't ever give it back."
On that last sentence, his voice broke so that he was almost talking from his throat, breathing the words instead of actually speaking them.
"Tealyr. Tealyr, she didn't understand that it was all my fault. I was the one who had let things go so far. I was older, I was the man, and I should have stopped us. It wasn't her job; she was too naïve and trusting. I should have been the one to keep it from happening, but I didn't. Tealyr didn't get it, though. She just kept blaming Demeter, saying that she had known Demi wasn't good for me, and every time we spoke, it was just a constant quarrel. It wasn't long after that that we just stopped talking to each other all together. Tonight was the first time I'd spoken to her since then.
"And it was still the same. We were still exchanging harsh words back and forth, still yelling at each other, still finding it impossible to make the other see how they were wrong. and I got so caught up in what was being said that, at one point, I pulled out my wand. I wanted everything to go away so badly. But then, as I stood there, her words. they just kind of echoed through my mind, and I thought, for the first time, that, even after all this. she still cared about me. I guess it might have always been there, but I'd never seen it before. The things she said. every cut she made against Demeter was paired with something about me, how I 'shouldn't have had to deal with' something, or that she had 'always had my best interests at heart'.
"That sort of thing. it's not like Tealyr. And, so, I asked her. I asked her why she insisted upon acting like she still cared about me. And, she just froze for a moment. and a tear fell down her cheek. and then she walked away saying that she did care about me, but then she took it back and said that she '[I]did[/I]' now. that she had, but not anymore."
Having not moved throughout his entire speech, Orlando finally broke and closed his eyes, still keeping his head facing the wall. He didn't want to look at Faithe. He didn't want to see what she was thinking because, if he had hurt her just then, he knew the guilt would become unbearable.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, just barely loud enough for her to hear.
Fear. It was a disease that plagued everybody, spreading through them like a wildfire. People lived in fear, while others refused to acknowledge its presence. Fear could make any person stronger by forcing them to overcome their biggest phobias. Everybody comes to that crossroad in their life where they are forced to face some dark fear that has been hidden in the shadows of the deepest closet of their mind. There are those who decide to live their lives in fear, closing out anything and everyone that might test their fears, or bring in new fears alike. They never take risks, never form relationships, and never explore their own self. These people never have the chance to truly live their lives.
Faithe had never known it, but she had spent almost eighteen years of her life fitting in more with the latter group than the former. Though she had never noticed it, Isabelle Faithe Cunningham had built a wall, guarding herself, not only from others, but from herself as well. She had conscious knowledge that she had kept so many people at arm's length, but never would have thought that she had been among those people. She and Jake were close, but there were still a lot of things she wouldn't ever feel comfortable talking to him about.
Orlando had changed all that though. It had been a change so subtle that she hadn't noticed it until now as she watched him struggle to open up to her. He had taught her how to face her fears the first night he had ever really known her. Despite her negative resolve, Orlando Lorenz had not given up on her as everybody else had ever done. He'd been her strength when she had none, and had been so gentle about pushing her to where he knew she could go, to be who he knew she could be. Faithe had never been confident with herself, her true self, around other people. She always wore a false mask - the life of the 'perfect little Athena Head Girl.' From the moment she met Orlando, there had been no mask. She had always been real with him from the start, and had felt comfortable being her.
Fear had nearly driven her away from meeting the Astronomy professor for an evening of astronomical wonder. Worried about what rumors would spread around Rosencrantz should somebody see a teacher with his student, though their intentions had been pure. Fear had nearly driven the two of them apart less than twenty-four hours after that first, innocent kiss. With time, that fear ebbed away and was replaced with adoration and devotion, and eventually love. As their relationship grew, so did Faithe. Never before had Isabelle Cunningham put so much of herself into trusting and loving another person, nor had she ever felt so complete from being trusted and loved. She didn't always have to wear a smile around Orlando, she was allowed to cry and be emotionally weak, because she knew that he would be strong for her, and vice versa. He wouldn't scorn her for making a mistake, and not being the perfect girl everybody had stereotyped her to be. He accepted her - all of her.
Feeling his hands take hers, that fear that she hadn't felt since that first trip to Manhatten rekindled in her heart. Allowing him to lead her to the bed, there was a reluctance in her step. This felt like one of those conversations that started off with 'You're a great girl, but...' and ended with an 'It's not you, it's me.' Though she was dreading what Orlando had to say, merely by how he was acting, Faithe was thankful to be sitting down. As she sat, her body became as rigid as a board. Pulling the sleeve back up over her right hand, her brown eyes searched his face, not bothering to hide her worry.
Listening to his words describe the two girls, particularly Demeter, Fiathe felt her chest tighten. Struggling to breathe, she swallowed the ever growing lump in her throat. There were several times when he was speaking she wanted to interject, but remained silent. Just the same, there were more moments she simply felt like crying and running away. She felt as if she'd been lied to, and feeling like that about Orlando hurt. Granted, he hadn't actually lied to her, but he had kept something that important from her on purpose. It hurt that she had obviously done something to push him away from her, and now he was struggling to open up to her.
Faithe had just learned less than thirty minutes ago the dangers of bottling up emotions. Now, she felt so much guilt that she hadn't been there as she should have been for the man she loved, and now she was having to watch him force himself to talk to her. How selfish could she get? Although, there was something tugging at her heart.
"So, the two of you spent hte whole arguing about Demeter?" Speaking softly, her voice came out meek and hurt. Hearing herself, she reprimanded herself silently. Hadn't she just finished scolding herself for being so selfish with him? Sighing, she bit her bottom lipas her mind moved in many different directions. This wasn't about her, it was about him. Standing up, she kneeled down in front of him. Cupping his face in her hands, Faithe sought out his eyes with hers.
"Orlando," speaking with soft compassion, Faithe's thumbs moved gently back and forth on his skin, "You have to let it go. Yes, you were the man. Yes, you were older. And yes, you may have initiated what happened between the two of you. But sweetheart, if she hadn't wanted it, she would have put a stop to it. It wasn't as if you forced yourself onto her. She wasn't the only person that lost something that night, you did too. You love her Orlando, and she loves you, and you feel this lone responsibility for what happened." Stopping, Faithe swallowed the lump down in her her throat. She knew had used the present tense in that last sentence - she had done it purposefully. What scared her was that she felt so much conviction that her statement was true.
"Your guilt is trapping you in this cage Orlando. If you don't come to terms with it, it will eat you alive. You can't change what happened in the past, but you hold your future in your hands. Don't let one mistake, which may not have even been a mistake, ruin you." Dropping her eyes to the ground for a moment, Faithe tried to word everything she was feeling inside of her. There were so many different things she wanted to say, but didn't know how to say any of them.
"If you continue to drag this around with you, you're never going to be able to give yourself completely to anybody. You'll always be holding onto that fear that history is going to repeat itself, but you can't do that Orlando. Whether I end up being amazingly blessed and get to spend the rest of my life with you, or if you and Demeter were truly meant to be together, you will never be able to put everything you have into that relationship. Or if there is some unknown woman out there who actually deserves you, then she deserves to be able to know you on an unhidden level. Not only will you hurt somebody else, but you'll hurt yourself Orlando." Talking about him being with another woman caused a sharp pain in her stomach. She loved him with everything inside of her, and was willing to give anything to be with him. Not only was it a thought, but she could physically visualize how painful it was to see him with another woman. Closing her eyes for a moment, she swallowed and pushed down tears that were threatening to betray her emotions. Opening them, her eyes had watered up, but the tears remained still and unfalling as they searched his face.
"As for Tealyr Montague, you have a chance to reconcile your friendship. Don't let pride from either side get in the way of that. Orlando, it bothered her so much because she was in love with you. Anytime a female acts like that over a guy, unless they can base their opinion up with fact, it general means that they have feelings for the guy in question. Unless I'm completely out of the ballpark, it probably really hurt her to put so much time and herself into you, and to see you with another woman." That last comment hit a little too close to home for her, and she had to break her eye contact before her tears spilled over. Dropping her arms, she sat down on the floor, hugging her knees. Reaching up with her right hand, she absentmindedly began rubbing her neck. Not even thinking, she shook the sleeve down to the middle of her arm so her fingers could massage the tight muscles.
"Orlando, do you regret not staying with Demeter that night?" She couldn't look at him when she asked this question. She felt ashamed for even doing so, especially at a time like this.
Sitting there, Orlando's face was, in a sense, frozen. Although it didn't have that vacant look it typically did after he'd experienced something trying, not a muscle on his face moved, save his diaphragm as he breathed ever so slightly. His eyes remained locked closed, facing the wall, as tears welled up behind them; his eyebrows remained at just the right height to give him a remorsefully pensive look; and his lips remained pressed together, fearing that, if they opened at all, the only thing that would pass through them would be a sob. He'd cried in front of Faithe enough, and he wasn't about to do it again. Not over something like this. not over Demeter. not again. She didn't deserve that sort of torment: watching someone you love cry over losing someone else.
[quote]"So, the two of you spent the whole arguing about Demeter?"[/quote]
Innocence. Faithe's voice was filled with it. His dreaded prophecy had been realized; he'd hurt her. The pain was evident inside her voice, and Orlando couldn't have denied its existence if he'd tried, not because he was a bad liar, but because no one could repudiate the fact that she was upset, and that her distress was his fault. It wasn't just the tone of her words, either, but the words themselves. They almost sounded, understanding in a sense, but not the sense he would have liked. To him, it appeared that she had begun to believe that, after Faithe had left him, and he had thought her gone forever, he had preferred defending Demeter to Tealyr than to running after her. or, even worse, that he leaving had had such little effect on him that his mind was free to think about Demi in such a way.
Swallowing, his eyes remained closed and he offered the smallest of nods in answer to her question. True, Tealyr had begun reprimanding him for his stupidity, but none of that mattered. Since the moment Professor Montague had alluded to her, Demeter had been the primary conversation topic.
As Faithe stood, the man felt the bedsprings shift beneath him, prompting him to open his eyes and, consequently, allowing a pair of tears to run down his cheeks. His eyes flitted to Faithe, not meeting her gaze, but watching her as though he thought she was going to walk out on him as he brushed the saltwater from his face. If she left right then, he wouldn't have blamed her at all. In fact, he wouldn't have so much as raised a hand in an attempt to stop her. He knew he was asking too much of her. It was one thing for him to have asked her to accept the fact that he'd had a past with Demeter the morning after they'd truly met, and it was another thing for him to hope she would stay with him after first-handedly viewing the sort of passion that had once inundated that past, but asking her to accept him and to trust him, in spite of all the things she now knew, in spite of everything he was. complete forgiveness and acceptance was something the man would never dream of asking such a goddess to bestow upon him, and something he didn't know if he could even accept from her if it was given on her own free will.
But then, instead of leaving, he watched as she slowly eased herself onto the ground before him, kneeling there as he sat upon the bed. As her soft skin caressed his face, the man almost felt like pulling away from her, not wanting her hands to be soiled by the foulness he held within. Yet, he couldn't pull away from her. at least, not with her melodious voice filling his ears and her thumbs lightly running along his cheeks. Instead, he merely shut his eyes, hoping that, if he didn't look her in the eye, this whole thing would just be over sooner. He felt so much guilt, and so much pain for causing her such hurt that he couldn't bear to look into his eyes. He wasn't worthy of such an action; he'd lied to her.
His ears picked up her words fine, but his mind distorted them, turning them into a sort of echo as they resonated through his head. Every so often, his mind would shout out a rebuttal, but those remarks never made it through his mouth. He sat there, silently, listening to her, and getting the basic idea. Sometimes, when the logical part of his brain was allowed its say, every word she spoke made perfect sense. Yet, other times the emotional slice's voice was the loudest, telling him that nothing mattered except what he had done himself. He couldn't speak on Demeter's behalf, but the fact was that, although she had played her part, it wasn't her role that caused the man such angst; it was his own.
Although he'd listened, he hadn't really heard everything she said word-for- word. until that last eerie statement- "[I]You love her Orlando, and she loves you...[/I]". Followed by that pause, in which Faithe swallowed, Orlando's eyes flitted open for a moment, almost asking her if she knew what she had just said.
To say the man hadn't thought about such a thing would be a lie. In fact, ever since Jake had brought it up that night, the man had wondered exactly how he felt about Demi- not the memory, but the person she was here and now. After considering things, for quite awhile, Orlando Corvello Lorenz had finally reached the chilling conclusion that, yes, he did love Demeter, and, yes, he loved her still. There was something about the way she carried herself, how she spoke, how she acted, how her fingers danced upon his neck. Everything about the woman still held some little piece inside the man's heart, but the part that held all those little pieces was shattered in itself. The guilt associated with all things Demeter that he felt was like a set of iron bars, caging that part of his heart, and, until he overcame that, there was no way he could ever really love her like he used to.
Faithe was right; his guilt was trapping him. It was directing which way he would go, by locking certain doors and leaving others wide open. Each word that escaped her lips was true, although Orlando would never be able to accept them as such. In fact, to his mind, they all seemed like sweet little lies from the mouth of an innocent girl who wanted him so much that she'd say anything to get him to be over his ex. Not being able to look at her, he closed his eyes again, and made another futile attempt to get himself to try to take his face from her hands.
Of course, he didn't get very far. The feeling of her skin upon his, stroking his cheeks so lovingly. it made him feel as though everything between them was still alright, that she still loved him and that everything was okay. He couldn't possibly take that sensation away from himself; he was much too selfish. Thus, he left his head within her hands, clinging on to the last physical sign of what he had had.
As she spoke of his guilt as though it was something he had to rid himself of, Orlando's doubts kicked in again. Sure, her words sounded nice, but what she didn't understand, though, was that guilt itself was part of who he was, and it couldn't just be something he let go of. He knew that, until the day he died, what he'd done to Demeter would haunt him, and that was precisely the reason he couldn't be with her. Every time he'd see her face, he'd envision her eyes gazing trustingly up into his as her soft blond hair lay out underneath her head, mingling within the soft blades of grass; every time he'd catch a glimpse of her bare shoulders, a flash of them covered with the sheet he'd brought to use as a picnic blanket that night would come into his mind; and every time he would hear her soft sigh, he'd be transported back to that morning and find himself wondering how she must have felt when she'd woken up. only to find him gone.
She must have been desperate, scared. alone. But Orlando couldn't have helped it. He had been so young, and been so scared by what he'd done, that he just wanted to get away from it all. Waking up with Demeter's arms wrapped around him, and her head buried into his chest, his arm entangled around her shoulder. the consequences of what they- what [I]he[/I]- had just done had come into focus, and, more than anything in that moment, he wanted to get away and pretend it never happened. Of course he knew that couldn't be, but anything was better than sticking around. Like a hit-and- run driver, he was so terrified of the consequences an accident might entail that, rather than wait for them to pass, he chose to run from them, hoping that, if he ran far enough, it would all just go away. Soon enough, though, he stopped himself, just inside the cottage doors, he'd waited for her. made her breakfast so that she wouldn't realize he'd been such a coward and thought about running away from her, so that, while she'd wake up scared, the feeling would pass at the sight of him waiting for her inside, and she'd never know. Then, once she'd eaten, words had spilled out of his mouth so fast that he didn't even know what he'd said by the end of it. After a few minutes of conversation, her words uttered a final "alright", and she was gone. A memory like that wasn't meant to be let go, in Orlando's mind; it was meant to be held close and learned from. never to be forgotten.
Hearing her tell him that he'd never be able to give himself completely to anyone else, and then using herself as the prime example, nearly caused the man to lose it. She almost sounded disappointed in a sense, and he didn't blame her. He wanted to be able to give himself to her completely, not allow Demeter to hold on to any last part of him, withholding it from Faithe. But, that guilt had sparked a fear that wouldn't never entirely go away. The morning after he had taken he up on his broomstick, it had shown itself; true, while he might have also been worried about how immoral a student-teacher relationship typically was, the thought had really only crossed his mind as an excuse to prevent himself from having to commit himself to anything, or, rather, anyone. Then, on that night upon the dock, when his shoulder had pushed into hers, gently steering her body down towards the wooden planks, although he might have started something, her words just now reminded him that he wouldn't have ever been able to finish it, and, if for whatever reason he had, history, without a doubt, [I]would[/I] have repeated itself. Then again, perhaps he would have learned from the past and not stayed around that time.
Just the thought of leaving yet another girl like he had left Demeter- especially Faithe, whom he never wanted to see hurt ever again after what had happened with Kaytlin- brought that lump back to his throat. He'd caused her so much pain already and she hadn't deserved a single ounce of it; if he'd brought any more hurt into her life, especially something like that. Well, he didn't know what he'd do. He felt lost in that moment, as he pondered the thought, save the feeling of Faithe's hands still upon his face. Then, at the young woman's mention of him being meant for Demeter, or for some other unknown woman in the world, his head looked away- not out of her hands, but away enough to make a point of it.
How could she say something like that? Was it because she felt differently about him now that she knew the vast majority of his past? No, she had still used herself first. Regardless of why it had been said, he felt embarrassed that she had even mentioned it. He was ashamed of what had happened with Demeter, and somewhat humiliated that Faithe knew of it, but, then again, they were supposed to love each other, and people who love each other don't keep secrets. Still, he didn't like how she had become so unsure of them, because, even though he might have still loved Demeter, being with her wasn't worth the price he would have to pay. Every time he would be with her, he'd be plagued by memories, and he couldn't just 'let them go'; they would always be there. Besides, he loved Faithe, too. Whether that was possible- loving two women simultaneously- was something he didn't know, but he knew for an absolute fact that he loved Faithe more than life itself. Theirs wasn't just a relationship of convenience, but, to tell the truth, if the memories of that night had been obliviated from his mind, and he was free from all that "baggage", he didn't know if he would choose to be with Faithe or with Demeter. ((However, the author -does- know.))
Those thoughts were temporarily swept to the back of his mind as she re- introduced Tealyr's name into the conversation. Her words there made sense, although he could hardly believe that Tealyr had ever been in love with (much less attracted to) him. She just. wasn't that type of person. Besides, they were only friends. Still, he couldn't refute the logic behind Faithe's reasoning.
As Faithe's last comment, Orlando felt guilty. He knew she hadn't really been thinking about Tealyr's emotions when she'd said it, but rather her own when she had seen him with Demi in Manhattan. Then, feeling her hands slip from his cheeks, the man leaned his head forward, not wanting her to pull away even though he knew it was inevitable. Hearing her cry, or rather, intuitively knowing she was doing so, his head turned away from her until she spoke again.
[quote]"Orlando, do you regret not staying with Demeter that night?"[/quote]
At her words, his eyes flitted open a little, still locked upon the floor to the side of her as opposed to her body, and thoughts flooded back to him. If he [I]had[/I] stayed, where would it have gotten him? Further from Faithe and closer to the reminder that triggered forgotten feelings and memories in an instant- closer to the tangible source of all his anguish and torment- and, although he may have loved Demeter, he simply couldn't escape what having her would bring with it. Swallowing, he shook his head.
"No." he replied. But, having not been used in awhile, his voice was breathy and the word was nearly unintelligible. Clearing his throat, he repeated himself.
"No, Faithe, I don't." Though quiet, his words were true. At last, he began turning his head towards her, speaking as he did so.
"I love you, and-"
As though he'd been shot through the chest, the man's voice stopped instantaneously there, to be replaced only with a choking gasp.
Darting off the bed, he quickly flew to his knees next to her and his hands grabbed her arm pulling it quickly, but not harshly, away from her shoulder and bringing it into full view, just holding it in his lap. His eyes clouded over with worry and his lips hung partially open as he stared at the fresh scar, with fresh bloodstains surrounding it. Although the man might not have been too apt with potions he knew a healing one when he saw it.
"What happened?" he asked, eyes slowly gazing upwards, hoping to meet hers.
Faithe had been so scared when she'd said Orlando loved Demeter, but her breath had nearly been knocked out of her when he hadn't claimed her to be mistaken. She'd been expecting that he'd confirm it, so why it came to as a shock to her, Faithe didn't know. Swallowing the lump down in her throat, Faithe tried to reason with herself. Just because he loved her did not necessarily mean he was still in love with her. Those were two different feelings, and one was perfectly justifiable. Even married couples who had divorced still loved each other, though they weren't in love anymore. Did Faithe really have the right to inquire about such a thing? Probably not, at least not in her mind. However, Faithe knew she would never feel completely at ease unless she knew the answer. If she was holding so much of herself back, then she knew she wouldn't be being fair to either of them, especially Orlando. He deserved better than that. With a reluctant resolve, she bit down on the tip of her tongue.
"Orlando, are you still in love with Demeter?" Struggling to keep her voice steady and audible, Faithe couldn't even force her eyes up to him. What she would do if he said yes, she still didn't know. She knew she wouldn't be able to be anything more than a friend to him, even though it broke her heart to think of how hard that would be. Faith was on the verge of running out the room. Never in a million years had she thought that she would be put in a position where she would be having to ask Orlando a question that wouild either make them, or break them. It had to be done though, for both their sakes.
If Faithe and Orlando tried to hold on to their relationship while he was in love with another woman, they would be setting themselves up for failure. There could be no more pretending that life was a fairytale. Faithe was not a princess, nor Orlando her Prince Charming, coming to rescue her on his white steed. In fairytales, the princes only had eyes for the one princess, and only had one antagonist to fight. Faithe had to wake up and face the reality. Though Orlando was her Prince Charming, and had saved her in more ways than one, life wasn't a storybook. Despite Shakespeare's words, the world was not a stage. Even the tragedies he wrote had happy endings, if you looked at it the right way.
If Orlando was still in love with Demeter, Faithe knew she would have to let him go. She wouldn't be like Tealyr Montague or Demeter Lawrance, though. No, Faithe could never turn her back on Orlando. No matter what happened to them in the end, Faithe wouldn't abandon him as everybody else had done. That sort of thing just didn't fit Faithe's character. Faithe was the sort of person who would be a friend to an enemy in their time of need, and there was no way she could even think about leaving the man she loved.
When Orlando suddenly bounded over to her, her eyebrows furrowed together in a confusing expression. As he reached for her arm, everything within her became still and cold. She couldn't lie to him, but she certainly couldn't tell him that she had mutilated her body. He was upset and hurting as it was, the last thing she wanted to do was add anger to the mix. There was no need to bring what happened before he arrived up for conversation. It wouldn't happen again.
Faithe found that she didn't regret doing what she'd done. It had given her a small, quiet way to find peace of mind in a moment where all she'd felt was pain and dispair. The more she thought about it, the more justification she found in what she had done. Would everybody have just preferred her to throw a tantrum, like most people? Faithe was a pascifist, for the most part. Of course, the rational part of Faithe was screaming in opposition. It didn't matter how rough and trying life became, there was no excuse for harming herself.
Then there was Jacques. Though she felt no regret for what she had done, Faithe felt so much guilt for opening up all those wounds in his life. Jacques had easily become one of her best friends, and had trusted in her. Faithe absolutely ashamed and disgusted with herself for putting him through such an uncomfortable position. She'd been selfish again, and her selfishness had brought pain unto another person she loved and cared about. Faithe had this strong urge to find him, and talk with him. He had been so upset when he'd walked out the door, and Faithe couldn't blame him. He had just stuck with her through such a trying time, and she'd paid him almost no mind once Orlando had arrived. Before she left, she had to find him.
"I was packing, and broke a glass." She wasn't lying, per say, she just wasn't including the entire truth in her statement. Pulling her arm away, a bit harsher than she had intended, she pointed to the shattered glass that had lain forgotten.
"It's not important. Why did you speak so harshly towards Jacques when you arrived? He didn't deserve it." Changing the subject, Faithe pulled her sleeve back over her hand. There was no conviction or spite in her voice when she spoke, but there was concern. If he thought something had been happening between the two of them, she needed to set that record straight.
((Well, I had that dream I was hoping for, but it didn't happen like I wanted it to. Neither did this post. I meant for it to be a normal post with just a little more Demi/Orlando info, but it turned into a massive flashback that was just confusing to follow. But, I really need to pack for band camp since I have to go shopping with Goo tomorrow morning and we leave for camp at 4 tomorrow. Sorry, Kaycee.))
At her words, Orlando's eyes immediately shut themselves again, scared of letting any of his feelings he desired to spare the girl from escape. There were certain things he couldn't tell her and, if there had been one thing Faithe could have said to completely cripple whatever secrecy Orlando still had, that had been it. His story, thusfar, hadn't been explicit; he'd left certain parts, such as his feelings for Demeter, with an ambiguous sense to them, and, now, she was asking him to draw a line and tell her on which side he stood. Did he love Demeter, or was he [I]in love[/I] with Demeter? Perhaps the most obvious reason he had been so unclear with his words was the fact that he himself didn't know the answer. At first thought, the answer was 'absolutely not'. But, then, considering everything, he wondered if that was really the truth. Resting an elbow on his thigh, he covered his face with his hand, letting out a small sigh as memories flooded back to him.
[I]Demeter squealed upon seeing the delightful array of sunny-side-up eggs and toast upon the table. Running over to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lifting herself up onto him. But his arms didn't hold her against him with the same enthusiasm; they waited a moment before securing her just enough to make sure she wouldn't fall.
She pulled back from him, then, setting herself upon the ground and, as her head tilted, and those emerald eyes looked into his, Orlando wished to fall through the floorboards. She was so young, so trusting, so eager. and so foolish.
'What's wrong, Orlando?'
Almost in a daze, his fingers reached out, running from her temple, down along her jawline, until his hand cupped her chin lightly. A sort of glaze seemed to cover his brilliantly blue eyes, giving them an eeriness as they waltzed over the young girl's face, taking in every aspect of it reverently, as though he was admiring an artistic masterpiece of sorts.
"Last night was so wrong of me, Demi," he whispered, still entranced as his thumb stroked her face. "I'm so sorry. I got carried away, and. I couldn't stop."
"No, no, no." Demeter pleaded with a soft smile, wrapping her arms around his body again and pushing herself against him as though it would make him stop. "Everything was perfect, Orlando. You didn't do a thing wrong- not a thing."
"Yes, I did," he retorted, holding her tightly to him, "Can't you see, Demi?"[/I]
When he had first told Faithe about Demeter, his story had been vague enough to be considered entirely true, but, as he had told her more and more, he had left out a rather large part of the story, contorting it into a lie itself. He knew he ought to just come clean now, and to tell her exactly how he and Demeter had 'just faded away', that it had been his doing alone. Somehow, though, he couldn't get up the nerve to tell her that he had pushed Demeter from his life because he didn't know if she would be able to understand everything. He did, though. Although he had done wrong, everything he did from the moment Demeter had seen him that morning had been right. He had taken responsibility for his actions, and had taken responsibility for Demeter's as well, and it had been he who gave the ultimatum and split them up. He had had to; it was the only choice.
She hadn't understood, and he had had to make her see. Doing what he did, he risked so many things. Hurting her, ruining their relationship, getting her pregnant. He had been so in over his head emotionally that logic hadn't seemed like a priority that night, but once he had awoken, his brain seemingly returned to him. Demeter, however, still didn't understand. He hadn't expected her to, of course; she was in love- seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. She had just kept repeating herself- telling him that he hadn't done anything wrong- only because she didn't get it. At that moment, she didn't realize how severe things were. She didn't care that he'd taken something from her that he couldn't ever give back, because, at that moment, she wanted him to have it. She gave herself to him completely that night, and he gave himself to her, but, the difference was that she didn't seem to consider what would happen if they ever split up. He was sure that he'd still want her to have had that part of himself, but did she feel the same way? They weren't married and they weren't competent- they were two young, foolish, and enamored people who had ended up together somehow. Things weren't set in stone and anything could happen at any time to split them apart; they still had their entire lives ahead of them.
He didn't expect her to see what he could, but it didn't stop him from voicing the concern. Never in the future did he want her to begrudge him for what happened. True, she hadn't ever seemed the least bit reluctant as she had followed his lead- from just allowing him to slide her tank top's strap down her shoulder to heal the cut upon her shoulder blade to what followed that- but the fact that he hadn't ever asked her if she wanted him to stop, that he hadn't ever given her a choice. he felt guilty for it, and it was for that reason that he did what he did. He hadn't wanted her to continue to stay with him until she was completely clear exactly who he was. He didn't want her to wake up one morning ten years later and realize then how horrible Orlando was and to be upset that she had wasted so much of her precious time on Earth with him. So, he had made it easy for her: he left.
[I]"Someday, Demi, you'll see what I'm trying to tell you," he whispered, having never allowed his fingers to leave her face, "And if, after you realize what I've done to you, you forgive me, and accept me, and love me still, then you'll know where to find me. If that ever happens, somehow I know I'll see you again. Until then, please. just tell me you understand why I'm doing this."[/I]
The words flooded back into his mind as if he had just spoken them aloud, and it was then that everything clicked. He had forgotten about those words when he'd seen Demeter in Manhattan earlier this year, but now, as he recalled them, the man let out a terrible sigh. When she had seen him, Demeter had been trying to tell him something, but he hadn't gotten it. Now, as he grasped exactly what she had been there for, everything was different. But, no. if everything was truly different, then why had he felt so right about leaving her and running back to Faithe in Manhattan? Because he didn't know then what he had only just realized now: Demeter had finally accepted him. He'd gotten through to her, and she understood. Now, the only question that remained was: was it too late?
"I can't be." he replied quietly, though not too convincingly, finally lifting his head and looking back at Faithe.
He hoped that was enough, for it was all the man could say at the moment. However, he longed to speak more, to tell her that he couldn't be in love with Demeter when he was in love with her, but, for some reason, he couldn't form those words. He knew for a fact that he loved Faithe, but was he in love with her? Thinking about it, the man reasoned that he had to be. How else could he possibly feel about her? But, then, what of Demeter? How else could he possibly feel about [I]her[/I]?
((I think that this would be a good time to revert to my earlier post and insert the "I love you, and-" break strain in order to fit together the plot pieces, however, if you disagree, that's cool. It's just a suggestion. I mean, have Faithe reply, 'cause the "I love you, and-" can come afterwards, or he can interrupt her, or. whatever))
As Faithe jerked her arm away from him, Orlando recoiled, somewhat hurt (emotionally) by how quickly and roughly she had pulled her arm from her grasp. It was as though she didn't want him touching her, and, with the way things were going for them that evening, he understood.
His eyes flitted momentarily to the glass upon the floor before reverting his gaze to her arm and then to her eyes. There was no way she had all the ingredients or the time to make such a complicated potion, and he hadn't ever known Faithe to be the clumsy or careless type who would be cut so severely by just breaking a glass. Then, had he heard her right? Packing? Where was she- Stopping in mid-thought, the man answered the question himself. She truly was leaving; he had only come in before she'd had a chance to leave.
"I was upset, and I let my emotions manifest themselves in ways they shouldn't have." Orlando replied crisply, but more matter-of-factly than rudely. "I said earlier that it was uncalled for, but I guess you didn't hear me."
Flitting his eyes back to her arm, he reached for it, figuring there was no harm to do now; she was already leaving, and he might as well pull out all the stops. Even if he didn't manage to pull her arm back to her lap, his fingers did snag the fabric and pushed it (at least momentarily) upwards, revealing the fresh scar.
"I know I don't really have the right to ask, but please, Faithe, tell me the truth. What happened? Did Jacques hurt you?"
The moment his eyes closed, Faithe wanted to die. That, in itself, was a silent answer to her question. Closing her eyes, her hand covered her eyes in hopes of preventing herself from crying. It seemed a silly thing to do, really. Her hands wouldn't prevent the tears from spilling over, but she did manage to recover for the time being. Struggling to keep her breath steady, she dropped her hand back to her lap. There was almost a desolate expression in her eyes - her eyes that she couldn't face him with.
When he looked at her, Faithe felt his eyes staring at her, but still couldn't bring herself to look at him. This was it, then. Standing up, she walked over to the dresser she had originally stored her clothes in, but had yet to finish packing. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out a small, cardboard box. Walking back over to where he sat, she kneeled down next to him. Reaching in, she pulled out a small box, and opened it. Pulling out a small gold star, one that resembled the same as hers and Kaytlin's, only gold, Faithe lifted his hand and placed it in his palm.
"It was the first one I ever enchanted myself." Somehow, she managed to keep her voice within her normal octave, though her voice was dripping with pain. "It links you to me and Kaytlin, and mine was modified to do the same. If you ever want to check up on her, for whatever reason..." Allowing her voice to trail off, her hands dropp back down to the box.
"If you don't want it, I understand. I know she was quite taken with you." Faithe was really struggling to keep herself in her right mind. Pulling out a keychain, she set it down next to him. "You have a lot of things you need to work out Orlando, and I'd rather be here for you as a friend than to try to hold onto something that isn't meant for me." I'm going to throw up.
***
Hearing his words, Faithe's eyebrows furrowed together as her eyes watered up. The inflection in his voice killed her, but it tortured her even more to know that it was aimed at her. When he reached for her arm, her whole body flinched as she were afraid he was going to hit her. Shaking her head at the accusation he had thrown at Jacques, Faithe was stunned that he had even thought about Jacques Hilton hurting anybody.
"Jacques would never hurt me Orlando. Why are you so set against him suddenly?" Speaking in a timid manner, Faithe shook her head softly as she inquired about his sudden dislike for the prefect. "He helped me."
((Yours wasn't dreadful, and I adored the way you brought to star into things. [I]This[/I] is dreadful, but I'm hoping that you can reply before I have to leave so that I can write a reply and send it to you from band camp. I'll be on around 2 or 3 your time))
As Faithe turned away from him, and he watched her walk away, Orlando felt something he'd never quite felt before. It was a mix of selfish sorrow, selfless guilt and too many other emotions to name. She was leaving, truly, and he could have stopped her. but, then again, he couldn't. He wouldn't lie to her again, ever again. especially not about something like this. Although it wasn't exactly the same situation, he felt as though the scene in Manhattan was playing itself out all over again, only this time he wasn't going to get her back.
Did he want her back? Certainly. That was, without a doubt, true. Faithe knew everything about him, and it had felt so wonderful not to have to wear a front with her, but he couldn't answer the question of if he was truly in love with her. He wanted to be- after all they had been through, all signs pointed to yes- but he couldn't say it, and, if he couldn't look her in the eyes and tell her that he was completely in love with her and only her. then perhaps it was best he let her go. Again, though, he didn't want to. He knew that, at that moment, he was ripping her still-beating heart out of her chest and seemingly smashing it to the ground maliciously, but, really, if he was killing her, it more a form on manslaughter than murder.
As his eyes cast themselves upon the golden star in her hands, the man let out a quiet gasp, almost intuitively knowing what was coming. Of course, that foresight probably made the whole thing harder for him to go through rather than easier. At the touch of her hand, he had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from making any other noises. He was the one that was causing this pain and whatever he felt had to be minute compared to what he was causing Faithe to go through; he didn't have the right to be hurt. Looking down at the star for a moment, his eyes lingered upon it before returning to Faithe's, glazed over with tears and radiating nothing but apologetic gratitude.
While she trailed off and her hand dropped from his, Orlando pursed his lips together for a moment, knowing that that would probably be the last time his hand ever felt the sensation of hers upon it. In all honesty, the man never thought he and Faithe would end, much less that he would be the cause if something ever were to happen.
"I'm so sorry, Faithe," he whispered as his eyes looked to hers. "Really, I- "
[quote]"If you don't want it, I understand. I know she was quite taken with you."[/quote]
Closing his hand around the star, he shook his head. Of course he wanted it. He had found himself rather charmed by Kaytlin as well, and, even though he may not have been in love with Faithe, he [I]did[/I] love her. Taking the keychain from the ground, he gathered it in his hand somberly.
"[I]As a friend.[/I]"
Faithe as a friend. only a friend. The thought echoed through his mind a few times over. How could she torture herself like that? Not that he wanted her out of his life, but just knowing that she was in love with him and yet could still want to be with him so badly that she'd sacrifice herself to have a friendship with him rather than nothing. He wanted to hold her close to him just then, to make everything alright, and some part of him still longed to kiss her, but none of those things could happen.
She was right when she said he had a lot of things to work out. He had tried to back in Manhattan, but he'd been too hasty, too eager to get back to Faithe, to do so correctly, and now it was all coming back to haunt him.
"[I].than to try to hold onto something that isn't meant for me.[/I]"
Those words right there plunged a knife into the man's chest and twisted it several times over. He didn't know what to do, though. What could he do? Nothing that would help, that was sure.
"Faithe." he whispered, "I didn't want things to turn out like this. I'm. I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
***
"So, it was his potion that healed you?" Orlando replied, more stating a fact rather than asking a question. Sighing, he shook his head.
"I'm not set against my own house's prefect, I'm just. I don't know. I just want to know what happened, because you're not maladroit enough to cut yourself that badly from breaking a glass.
"Obviously, you didn't just pick up a piece of glass and slice your arm open," he declared as though it was the most ludicrous thing in the world, "so I thought maybe Jacques had gotten upset with you, or just been upset in general, and you had gotten caught in the crossfire.
"I don't know, Faithe! What happened?"
Hearing him apologize, Faithe shook her head. She had known something like this would happen, but she had tried to feed herself a lie. A lie that Orlando truly did want to be with her, but part of her, deep down, had known better. She had been a substitute, a rebound. The only person she was good enough for, apparently, was a man who was willing to kidnap her niece so he could marry her.
"Orlando, don't apologize for your feelings. Who are we to say they weren't supposed to turn out this way? We all have one person for us in this world, and if I'm not it, you have no reason to feel sorry." Biting her bottom lip to keep it from wavering, Faithe held his gaze, somehow. She was determined not to cry in front of him, the first time she'd ever done that with him.
***
quote:
...you didn't just pick up a piece of glass and slice your arm open
Wincing at those words, Faithe's eyes fell to the ground. Swallowing harshly, she looked up when he had finished his little rant. She couldn't lie to him, but at this point, Faithe didn't want to discuss it.
"I wasn't exactly calm and sane when I was packing, professor. People step out of character when they're upset." It had been so long since Faithe hadn't used his first name, but somehow it seemed to fit the mood.
"Yes, it was Jacques' potion. He saw me upset and checked on me. I should probably go find him. He was upset when he left and he doesn't need to be alone when he's upset." She hadn't really meant to say anything about Jacques' problem, or anything leading to it, but that had slipped out. Faithe did need to find him, though. He said he was still cutting, and if he was, she didn't know how upset he had to be before he started. Standing up, she pulled the sleeve back down over her arm.
"Please," Orlando entreated her as she spoke, "Don't..."
'Don't what? Don't make me feel bad? Don't tell me you're the not the one for me when I want you to be so badly but still can't tell you that I'm in love with you?' Yeah, that sounded great and was just soooo logical. He didn't know what he was feeling, or why he was feeling it. Demeter was supposed to be behind him, and he was supposed to be completely in love with Faithe. They were going to be happy together, she was going to dance for a few years while he saved up money, then he was going to ask her to marry him, and they would live happily ever after- in love. But nothing was going right; everything was a mess.
"I want to be in love with you, Faithe..." he said, immediately knowing that wasn't exactly a good thing to say the moment the words had escaped his lips. Now he'd just admitted to her that he wasn't in love with her, and admitted the same to himself, more importantly.
She was everything he wanted, everything he needed, everything inside of him that he wished he could be; she said all the right things at exactly the right times, but she meant nothing to him, and he didn't know why. Well, not nothing, but nothing in the romantic sense... Why couldn't he just be in love with Faithe and forget all about Demeter? Was it guilt? Jealousy? Or just wistful thinking about the past coming back?
"That was a horrible thing to say..." he said quickly, knowing that nothing he could possibly say would take away the memory of those words from her mind. Something like that... it didn't just fade away the moment the audio waves died out; it echoed forever through one's head, incessantly repeating itself.
***
As Faithe winced, Orlando's eyes widened in panic. Had she really don't something like that? Her explanation seemed to insinuate such. But then, it didn't seem like she was going to discuss it with him... especially not when she referred to him as "Professor" which, in itself, prompted the man to gnaw upon his tongue. He hadn't been called that by her in ages, and the word coming from her mouth sounded foreign in a sense. But, that was what happened when people moved on...
"I'm not your professor anymore," he replied, not spitefully at all. "You've graduated, and you can call me 'Orlando'..."
It was sickening really, how they had begun starting all over again, and he was just telling her that they could go on a "first-name-basis". so sickening he almost wanted to retch.
Hearing about Jacques, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Doesn't need to be left alone when he's upset? What did she mean by that? His thoughts were interrupted, however, as she stood.
"So this is it?" he managed to utter, standing up as well and looking at her with a tilted head. "You're leaving?"
Don't what? Be honest? In Faithe's eyes, she was being honest. He didn't love her, he never had. She was second rate, and she had always known it. It's how her life had always been, which is why she had stayed away from relationships. Orlando was better than she could have ever hoped for, even if she had only been blessed to catch a glimpse of what her dream life was.
quote:
I want to be in love with you, Faithe...
Her eyes closed as his words hit her in the face, like a brick being thrown. Opening her eyes slowly, she had to coach herself silently to keep breathing. Swallowing the incessant lump in her throat, she shook her head.
"It wasn't a horrible thing to say. It's how you feel. There's no shame in it." She had always known she was never good enough for Orlando's love, but hearing him say it after so many oppositional debates the two had had, still brought tears to Faithe's eyes. Looking away, she managed to keep control of herself and her emotions. "And I don't blame you."
**
"It's a sense of propriety, Professor Lorenz."
"I've already missed my boat, if that's what you mean. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning." Speaking softly, her eyes flitted towards the clock, though it didn't really matter. Her eyes moved from the clock between the two beds to the shattered glass on the ground. She turned her head quickly away, shutting out the longing she had to walk over there and pick up a shard.
"It will give us at least another week to rehearse." Not that it was important, but Faithe was trying to reason out the advantages of having her heart pulled out and beaten to a pulp.
"If you ever need a friend, don't hesitate to write me." She wouldn't turn her back on him, no matter how much it hurt her to see him. He'd had to endure people treating him unjustly because of how he felt too many times, and Faithe wouldn't allow herself to be one of those people.
Seeing her eyes close and fail to open quickly, Orlando grimaced mentally. He hadn't meant it like it had come out. It was aimed at comforting her, and it wasn't his aim that was off, but rather the arrow he was shooting with. Those words he had used held a certain undercurrent to them; however inadverent it was, he was, in a sense, telling Faithe that something was wrong with her. Of course, the first words that popped into his mind were (ironically), "It's not you, it's me", but he knew better than to say something that clichéd. It would rub away at an already raw wound rather than heal it.
"Yes, yes it was," he countered, "I shouldn't have said it at all, no matter what reasoning was behind it. It's not fair of me to do that to you..."
'[i]Why are you still here?[/i]' he wanted to ask, wondering how she could possibly still look at him, be in the same room as him, and still be treating him, not only civilly, but warmly after all he'd put her through.
Still gnawing on his tongue, he warily reached out with a hand and made an attempt to turn her face towards him, slowly and gently, simultaneously wiping a few tears from her cheek.
"You [i]have[/i] to blame me," he added, as though he was telling a young child that, yes, they did have to clean their room. "It's my fault, Faithe, not yours... not yours at all."
Well, he'd avoided the clichéd words, but he was certainly failing at avoiding their connotation...
**
[quote]"It's a sense of propriety, Professor Lorenz." [/quote]
He hated hearing such formality pass through the lips he used to kiss so passionately. It was as though nothing had ever happened between them. Biting his lower lip, he tilted his head back for a brief moment, almost as if he was asking some higher being why this was happening to him.
Well, it was nice that she wasn't leaving until morning... Not that it mattered, really, though. What else could be said or done? Besides, it was nighttime, and late already; she'd probably just gotten up to insinuate he should leave so she could sleep... or rather cry herself to sleep. Just the thought of Faithe crying over him, over what he'd done to her... The guilt was rather comparable to that which he'd felt about Demeter.
[quote]"If you ever need a friend, don't hesitate to write me."[/quote]
The way she had spoken just then... it wasn't that it was unexpected, but rather that he couldn't believe she would submit herself to such torture. He knew she had been (if she wasn't still) in love with him, and, being someone's first true love... well, no one truly gets completely over that ever... How could she be so casually flippant, yet still so kind? She was truly leaving him, but refused to go away without leaving him some way of still keeping her in his life... just as friends, though... nothing more, but nothing less.
"Faithe..." he began, speaking softly, through someone clenched (yet not angry at all) ((like, if you put your tongue between your top and bottom teeth, bite it, then pull it back and put both rows of teeth together and speak while drawing your breath in... kinda like that)) teeth. What? What was he going to say? What [i]could[/i] he say?
"I..."
'[i]I what? I want you to stay with me. I still want to see you, hold you, laugh with you... take up all of your time and prevent anyone else from loving you even though I can't myself?[/i]' No, that wasn't fair. He had to let her go, to get on with her life without him. It would be better for her to forget him completely, as he had done with Demeter. If he remained in her life, or tried to come back into it, like Demeter had done to him, he'd be holding her back from all the good things that could happen to her, and he wouldn't do that.
"I won't be writing you," he finished after a moment. "You-" He paused for a brief instant, almost choking on his words but fighting to give them the resolve they needed to be convincing, "You won't hear from me again after tonight. I promise... I won't drag you down with my problems anymore. You don't deserve that..."
Her eyebrows furrowed at his words, trying to keep herself from crying. Now she was causing him guilty. Good job Faithe. How many more times are you going to dig the knife deeper in this whole situation? Reprimanding herself silently, Faithe shook her head. His touch felt like a flame, burning her skin. It was almost tantilizing in a malicious sort of way, teasing her with the soft caress of his hand on her skin.
"No, it isn't your fault. It's my fault for trying to live a life not meant for me. I can't keep you to myself if it isn't what you want, nor did I have any right trying to pretend that it was. All I want from you is to be happy, and I can accept it that I can't bring to your life what you need." There was a genuine air in her voice as she spoke, and she managed to keep her tears inside her eyes. Reaching up, she took his hand, removing it from her face and laying it down in his lap.
***
Her eyes flitted from the floor to his eyes when he said he wouldn't write her. Opening her mouth to speak, she found her voice have suddenly ceased to work. Closing it, her lips rolled inwardly and she bit her bottom lip so hard and relentlessly, it didn't take long before she tasted the salty taste of blood on the tip of her tongue. Falling back to the ground, her eyes were once more threatning to rain the liquid of her emotions. ((Wow, that sounded really stupid.))
"I understand. I mean, why would you want to keep in touch with an ex- student?" Shrugging to herself, Faithe's voice came out wavering and meek. Walking to the table, she grabbed her room key and pocketed it. He didn't want anything to do with her. Fine, she would have to live with it. She wasn't good enough even for a friend, but how could that possibly surprise her? Her parents were right - she had one path in life, and that was the same path every member in her family had taken. She had been naive to think that she could ever have an ideal life - she had to make the life she was given ideal.
"I need to find Jacques. Good luck with Demeter." Unable to meet his eyes one last time, Faithe walked for the door, not giving him time to respond to her last rhetorical question. Sidestepping into the bathroom momentarily, she lifted the shard of glass from earlier and hiding it in her balled up fist, inside the sleeve. Stepping back beside the door and opening it, she stepped out, her eyes searching up and down the hallway as the door clicked shut behind her.
Finally free from Orlando's gaze, Faiteh allowed the tears in her eyes to run free. Hitting the button to the elevator, she had a strong sense of deja vu. She was always being thrown aside, and towards the elevator because of Demeter. Not that she blamed the woman, or Orlando, it was her fault. Her fault for being as stupid as she was to think that she could ever fill that void in Orlando's heart. Stepping onto the elevator, she hit the bottom for the bottom deck, the storage deck.
In a sense, Orlando felt as though he was going through some sort of sickening déja vu. Once more, he was making one of those decisions that he didn't want to, but was for the best. Faithe's words were so incredibly wrong that Orlando had to restrain himself from shouting at her as she spoke. She couldn't have been more wrong if she'd tried. How come she couldn't see that he [I]did[/I] want her to keep him to herself, that he [I]did[/I] want to be with her? He just couldn't feel that way about her. Love, even lust, wasn't a feeling one could will themselves to have. It had to come of its own accord, and it wasn't.
He could see the pain he was bringing to her, and, for a moment, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could will himself to forget about Demeter, about running off in search of her, trying to bring back the past. Why, when he could have something just as good (if not better) here, with Faithe, did he want to sacrifice it for something he'd had so long ago? Perhaps it was just sick human nature- wanting that which one cannot have- but he knew he couldn't be with Faithe unless things fell through with Demeter. It wasn't that she was his second choice, but merely that he couldn't be fair to her and give her his complete and absolute self until he got back the part of it Demeter still held on to.
Again, the man's mind couldn't be made up. Was he letting Faithe go because he was really trying to do what was best for her, or was that all just a lie he was telling himself because he didn't want to admit that he was still in love with Demeter and that the whole time he had been with Faithe, he had just been using her affection as a replacement for what he'd given up?
Letting her hand take his from her face, he gazed into her eyes, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"No." he whispered, "Faithe. it's not that. It's just. I never. Things with Demi. they just never got completely wrapped up. I tried to push her out of my mind after it first happened, then, in Manhattan, I tried to do it again, but I just can't. and I don't want to be with you until I can promise you that I'm not in love with her anymore- any part of her.
"I want to ask you to wait for me; I want to beg you to understand everything; and I want to be so in love with you that you're all I can think about, but none of those things can happen right now. And I know. I know it's not fair of me to be telling you any of this, because all I'm doing is making this harder for you, but I can't let you think that you weren't ever enough for me, or that I was never totally and completely enamored with you. You're perfect, Faithe; you really are. I'm not though, not by a long shot."
***
[quote]"I understand. I mean, why would you want to keep in touch with an ex-student?"[/quote]
"Faithe, that's not it at all!" Orlando's voice came out a bit louder than intended, almost making him sound angry, but not quite. His voice was too hurt to be perceived as mad.
"You're not just an ex-student to me," he retorted, "You're so much more than that, and that's why I can't write you. I can't keep you on this string like some pet and involve you in every aspect of my life when all it's going to do it hurt you. You don't' deserve it. I won't keep you in limbo like that, never letting you know if I want and love you with every ounce of my being or if you're just a substitute because my heart still belongs to Demeter. I don't even know how I feel, Faithe!"
((insert "I need to find Jacques. Good luck with Demeter." here))
As she moved around the room, he could do nothing but watch in silence. For a moment after she'd left, he had just stood there, wondering if he should go off after her. Eventually, he decided it would be better to go elsewhere. maybe to go crawling back to an old friend. But, he couldn't leave Faithe without telling her something.
Walking out of the room, he caught a glimpse of her blue skirt as she turned the corner towards the elevator shaft. Running down the deck, he whipped around the corner just in time to place his hand upon the door and prevent it from shutting.
"I meant it when I said that I want to be in love with you, and I know those aren't the right words, but it's all I can say. I just. Everything with us, Faithe. every little thing has been perfect, you know that, don't you? I love you; I really do, but I just can't tell you I'm completely yours- completely in love with you- until Demeter is absolutely gone from me. She has to be out of my heart, out of my mind. just. gone.
"Please," he implored, "just tell me you understand this isn't your fault."
H ow could Faithe wait for something that she doubted would ever come? She couldn't, but Faithe didn't exactly foresee Orlando having anything to worry about when it came to Faithe finding somebody else. She wasn't the relationship type of girl, and that had just been proven once more, only differently than anytime before. He was right though, his talking like this was driving the sword deeper into her heart. Lowering her eyes, she shook her head slowly.
"No. It wasn't fair of me to try to hold you away from her. There's no sense in our arguing about this, we're just going in circles." Crossing her arms, her eyes flitted from the floor up to his face.
"And I'm not perfect. I am so far from perfection." As she said this, her thoughts drifted to the moments before Orlando had showed up. No, somebody who had achieved perfection would never have done that. "You need her, and I understand that. I was a fool for thinking I could even begin to take her place. The two of you have a bond, and I'm not part of that. I refuse to stand in your way. And that's all that needs to be said about it." There was conviction in her voice as she spoke, truly wishing the conversation to be over with. They were running in a neverending circle, and that's all it would continue to be.
***
Jumping slightly as he raised his voice, Faithe took a step back. She couldn't hide the fearful look on her face at his outburst of volume. Ever since the deal with Eddie, Faithe had become skittish around any unpleasant confrontations that involved raised voices. Shaking her head, Faithe bit her tongue before speaking.
"I don't want you to be left without a friend. You don't deserve it. I'm not going to walk away from this like some sore loser - like some spiteful, scorned lover. You don't want anything to do with me, and I can accept that. Enough said." Despite the harshness that some of her words conveyed, Faiteh showed no hint of being angry, or spiteful.
quote:
just tell me you understand that this isn't your fault at all
Faithe had been in the process of slipping the piece of glass from one hand to the next. Luckily, depending on how it was percieved, she had yet to do so when Orlando appeared in front of her. Listening to him, she reached up with her free hand and wiped away the streams her tears had left.
"I'd like to say what you want to hear, but I'm not going to lie to you. I find so many faults, so many things I did wrong, and I know I have my part in this as well." Stepping forward, she removed his hand gently. Hitting the close button, she stared at his eyes, her own eyes radiating pain and desolation. Once she was staring back at herself from the metal door, she slumped against the wall.
"But you didn't hold me from her, Faithe," Orlando said quietly, "I did, and it wasn't for any other reason except my feelings for you. I wanted to be with [I]you[/I], and I still want to be with you."
The man trailed off there, knowing that he couldn't possibly be making any sort of sense to the poor young woman just then. If he wanted to be with her so badly, then why wasn't he? Logically, it didn't work out, but no one ever claimed that emotions fit the mold logic made for them.
As her arms folded, Faithe seemed possessed, in a sense. She had never crossed her arms at him; then again, she had never really had reason to be angry with him before either. Of course, this entire night hadn't exactly been characteristic of their relationship thusfar.
Sighing, the man's eyes closed momentarily. Everything was just spinning further and further out of control. Why was everything going wrong? And, on that same topic, why couldn't he just forget Demeter and fall back in love with Faithe? It wasn't as if he'd ever see Demi again, right? But, no, the man knew himself too well. Although he could block the woman out of his thoughts for a certain amount of time, like he had done when he had originally fallen in love with the young Athenian, there would- until he had completely worked out everything and understood the mechanics of why he and Demeter had failed- always be a moment in whatever relationship he found himself in where her essence would ebb away at him, and he would find himself, once more, emotionally paralyzed- unable to allow himself to love anyone for fear of wronging her the way he had wronged Demeter. or perhaps worse. For what was worse than sleeping with someone when a part of your heart still laid with someone else?
"Alright, maybe you're not perfect to you Faithe, but, to me, there isn't a thing I'd change about you.
"This isn't about me needing her and you filling her place," he said almost desperately, trying to release Faithe's guilt, "But now that I've said all I can, so I'll stop."
*** As Faithe jumped, Orlando grimaced apologetically. He hadn't meant his voice to be so forceful, but he couldn't have possibly helped his emotions manifestation.
"No, Faithe," he replied when she had finished, trying not to allow his voice to crescendo to any louder than a mezzo piano. He has sort of arguing incessantly with her, but he simply couldn't remain silent and let her believe something so wrong. "I want [I]everything[/I] to do with you." Reaching a hand up, he ran it along her face then set it back by his side.
***
He wanted to hold his hand on the door and allow it to be smashed by the cold metal rather than let Faithe's move it out of the way; any pain would be better than letting her go. Yet, he knew he ought not push her, and moved his hand away the second hers had touched it. The door began to close, and his eyes, filled with despair and remorse, didn't leave hers until it had closed complete.
Pounding his fists upon the metal gateway once he was sure Faithe couldn't hear, he failed to relent until his hands had grown numb.
"What could [I]you[/I] have possibly done wrong?" he cried, slowly slumping against the door and allowing his body to eventually land upon the floor in a crumpled mass. It had been he who had caused the problems, destroyed the sanctity they'd shared, and just plain ruined everything, not just with Faithe, but with Demeter, with Tealyr, for his family.. How could he set everything right again? Could he even dream up a way to perform such a miracle? Probably not, nothing could possibly fix [I]every[/I]thing he'd screwed up in his twenty-two years of existence. Perhaps, though, there were [I]some[/I]things he could fix, or, at least, try to fix.
Sighing to himself, he picked his limp corpse off of the deck boards and tried to turn himself around, but found such an action impossible without lingering a moment to stare at the door where Faithe had stood moments earlier. Delirious, his mind contorted his reflection into one of Faithe and he saw her eyes staring back at him in the moment before he forced himself to look away and carry out what reparations he could.
Within a short while he had reached his destination. Knocking upon the stateroom door of one Tealyr Soleil Montague, he sighed again, praying the woman would answer and, if she did, that she wouldn't slam the door in his face.
Closing her eyes, Tealyr Montague sauntered over to a chair and fell backwards on it. She deftly plucked the waning cigarette from her lips and extinguished it in an ashtray on the table beside her. She massaged her temple slowly, fingers slipping down to the bridge of her nose. A migraine was pounding inside of her skull at that moment.
And why wouldn't it be? The last hour or so of her life had been the most stressful in years. She had taken a simple stroll across the deck, only to discover what had been Rosencrantz's best kept secret of the past year. Old battle wounds had been mercilessly slashed open again as she had reentered the battle that, supposedly, had ended a long time ago. And now...what was she to do?
Part of her wanted to contact her mother immediately. Fueled by a repressed anger that had been boiling all these years, deep inside of her that she had learned to ignore, she wanted to let words that would more than merely tarnish the reputations of many people. A smirk crossed her lips as she thought of other possibilities; she could contact the Seraph, the wizarding equivalent of shows like E! True Hollywood Story. There could be book rights, movie rights...her name in the papers... Shaking her head, she stood and walked over to the sink. She could never do that...or could she?
No, no, she couldn't...It was tempting, though. It would "pay him back" for all of the torment that she had gone through. She could even drag that wench, Demeter, into this... It would give her fame...get her out of a dead- end job that she positively hated...No, no...that was wrong...
She looked up as she heard a knock on the door. Shaking her head, she lit up another cigarette and, fully prepared to magically castrate whoever dared bother her at this hour (It was probably that annoying steward), glanced into the peep-hole. Well, insert an (expletitive deleted) here, it was Orlando Corvello Lorenz. She snatched her blue satin bathrobe off of a nearby chair, hurriedly putting it on over her clothes and making sure that her tank top wasn't peeking out from underneath. She set the cigarette down in the ash tray and ran a hand through her hair, offering an agitated 'Be right there!' to the person behind the door.
Looking back at her dishelved stateroom, she opened the door just enough so that she was fully visible. Her frame blocked the remainder of the view into her room.
"Do you mind?!" she hissed, "You can't come in right now...I've got company."
She put emphasis on the last word to show that it was, indeed, that kind of company. Tilting her head to the side, she took in his distraught appearance with a strong animosity in her eyes.
Orlando Corvello Lorenz hadn't planned on coming on the school-sponsored cruise, primarily because he still hadn't completely overcome his hydrophobia in regards to the ocean and such. Instead, he had planned to spend the summer revitalizing that small mountain cottage he had had when he attended school in Maine during the time of the cruise, and then, somehow, still spend time with Faithe (Although he had owled her everyday that the two hadn't spend together thusfar this summer, the simple letters exchanged weren't enough), who would be training nearly all summer, save the time of the school cruise. Yet, somehow, those plans had become contorted when the Headmistress owled him several days into the cruise and informed him that his chaperoning presence was necessary since one of the other professors had been called away, and that, if he valued his job, he would be there within the next day. ((I needed a reason for Orlando to be on the cruise since he wouldn't have come of his own free will))
Thus, after packing a small suitcase, he had come out to the ship on a smaller boat, and had, that evening, arrived on board the SS Ecstasy. The first thing he had done had been to get himself situated in his room; professors were given the single staterooms on A deck, the same deck as the just-graduated seventh years. After throwing his duffle bag upon the bed, he had gone off in search of Faithe's stateroom, wanting to surprise her. Not having had time to write to her, Orlando had left the young woman completely in the dark as to his being on the ship. As far as she knew, he was still in Maine, probably re-roofing the cabin or something of the like.
Amidst the brilliant orchestral performance echoed by the celestial heavens, the dazzling counterpoint chorale enchanting the man was heightened as his eyes waltzed over the constellation Orion; Orlando smiled to himself, recalling how Faithe had told him it was her favorite constellation. The view of the night sky from the ocean was marvelous. Without any city lights interfering, the lights in the sky were ten times more abundant. Their splendor and number was only aided by the fact that this particular night was cloudless.
In addition to the magnificent stars glowing on the serene canvas of the dark nighttime sky, a comet, which Orlando recognized as the Holloway Comet, had chosen to grace the young man with its spectacular presence. The icy ball of rock gracefully pierced through a dark corner of the sky like the sharp cry of a trumpet fanfare breaking the calm air of a quiet morning. Its remarkable tail followed, surrounding the core with an aura of elegance.
Again, a soft smile crossed the man's face as he breathed in the sea air. Growing up on the Hawaiian coast, the salty ocean smell was more than welcome. Averting his gaze from the sky, he turned around and lifted himself upon onto the railing, half-hoping to see Faithe's shadow as he flitted his eyes nonchalantly about the deck.
Excitement flitted through Faithe's body as she finished getting dressed after her shower, drying her hair quickly. Dressed in a light blue, Hawaiian skirt that fell to her ankles, and a white tank top, Faithe slipped on her flip flops. Tying her hair back with a white ribbon at the nape of her neck, she left her room quickly. Making her way up several flights of stairs, the jittery feeling in her stomach increased.
She only got slightly agitated when one of the workers stopped her. A handful of stewards were walking around the ship handing out leis to random people. Instead of the traditional necklace lei, Faithe was given a halo of flowers, which she placed on her head to appease the steward. Nodding politely, she continued her way to the top deck.
Earlier that day, she had been sitting out in the lake under the protection of an umbrella, when the date suddenly struck her as familiar. After searching like a mad woman through her books, Faithe had confirmed her suspicions that there was, indeed, a comet that night. Ever since then, excitement and felicity had been surging through her all day.
Now, after much impatient abiding, Faithe had finally reached the top deck. Stopping as the breeze hit her face, she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The smell of the salt water was something she was learning to get used to, but it was refreshing. Opening her eyes, she stepped out to the middle of the deck, stopping as her gaze shifted to the sky. Catching the glimmer of the Holloway Comet, a smile spread over her lips. Biting her bottom lip, she looked around for an abandoned railing.
Finding one, she walked over to the cold metal, leaning against it. Hanging her arms over the cylinder, her gaze once again rose to the heavens. Smiling as she spotted Orion, her brown eyes became mesmerized in the three stars, all lined up to form his belt. Shifting her gaze to the comet, a look of fascination crossed her face as a small smile played on her lips. Sighing, she looked down at the water for a moment before she became hypnotized by the bright light, slowly drifting across the darkness. I wonder if Orlando is seeing this...
And, then, like an answered prayer, the brilliant blue eyes of Orlando Lorenz caught sight of a shadow sauntering towards the main deck. A broad, excited grin came over his face as the figure followed it and turned towards the deck railing opposite from him. He had known the shadow's identity as soon as he had seen it, but seeing the figure to which it belonged was still welcome. As his eyes wandered along Faithe's body, a quiet gasp escaped his lips; he couldn't help but think that the young woman had somehow gotten even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.
Slowly, and, above all, quietly, Orlando began meandering across the deck towards her. Seeing her there before him only made the man realize just how much he had missed her thusfar. True, it couldn't have been much more than a few weeks since he'd seen the woman, but it had seemed like an eternity for him. Nearly silently approaching her, he watched as her eyes flit from the sky down to the water below and then back to the sky once more, and his grin softened into a warm smile.
Once he was close enough, his left arm wrapped itself slowly around her waist and his head rested itself momentarily upon her right shoulder, breathing gently against her neck. Reaching his other hand up, he laid it upon her far cheek and turned her head towards his own. Lifting his head off of her, he leaned around her body, gazing into her eyes for a bit before kissing her warmly for a rather extended moment. Finally pulling back, he dropped his hand onto the railing and took a step to stand beside her.
"Hi," he breathed, with an almost unbelieving sort of grin upon his face. "I've really missed that.
"And you, too, of course," he added, grin transforming into a mischievous sort of smirk.
Sighing, her head tilted slightly to the side as she stared at the sky, completely oblivious that Orlando was within a hundred miles of her. The past couple weeks had been torturous for her anytime her eyes found the night sky. The past school year had been filled with so many nights star gazing, but she hadn't been alone during those many late night hours. She had gotten so used to Orlando's warm body next to her as they pointed out constellations, comets, and anything else they spotted. However, lately she had been staring at the sky wondering if he were doing the same.
Jumping slightly as an arm wrapped around her waist, Faithe's insides froze as a head rested on her shoulder. Recognizing the figure, she blinked for a moment, not moving. That's rich Faithe...You miss Orlando so much that you're hallucinating that he's here. Feeling his hand touch her cheek, an almost apprehensive look crossed her face before he kissed her. Closing her eyes, her body melted into him as she kissed him longingly. When he pulled back, a small objective sound escaped her throat as her eyebrows furrowed together in a sulky pout.
Returning the warm smile, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes gazing into his, "Hi." Her voice came out softy, and barely above a whisper as she reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. Laughing softly as he expressed how much he missed their kisses, she wrinkled her nose slightly as she stuck out her tongue. Shaking her head lightly as he added his little afterthought, Faithe gave him a look of unbelief.
"Orlando, what are you doing here? On a boat...in the middle of a bunch of water..." Grinning, she pulled her head back slightly to keep herself from going cross-eyed. Letting out a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, "It doesn't matter! I can't believe you're here! I've missed you so much sweetheart."
((This is quite short, and exceedingly retarded- Surry. [u]Dos[/u] ought to make up for it, though.))
Leaning into her hand, but still keeping their foreheads touching, the man delighted in the sensation of her skin upon his face, something that he had felt only in his dreams for the longest time. The smile upon his face seemed inerasable as his eyes met hers. It was always that way with Faithe though. Save a few inopportune situations out of their control, there wasn't ever a moment he was with her that a smile didn't at least tug at the corners of his lips. She made him happy. He felt warm, loved, content and perfectly completed.
[quote]"On a boat...in the middle of a bunch of water..."[/quote]
Reaching a finger up, he placed it upon her lips.
"Shh," he breathed with a slight laugh, "Don't remind me about it. I'm just out here because I'd like to keep my job for another few years."
As she coiled her arms around him, his own arms surrounded her waist and, pressing her against his chest, he lifted her a few inches for a moment, jovially spinning her around before returning her to the ground and keeping his arms around her. The feeling of her being in his arms again was wonderful- something he'd missed even more than the taste of her lips.
"I've missed you, too," he whispered, "More than I ever thought possible."
Pulling back, he allowed himself a moment to look into her soft brown eyes, shaking his head.
"You see Holloway's Comet up there?" he asked, gesturing towards the sky.
Seeing his face soften with his smile, her grin melted away, replaced by a loving intensity. Her brown eyes carried an expression of sincerity and devotion as her thumb rubbed his cheek lightly. Moving her hand around some, her fingers began toying with his hair, wrapping it around her index finger gently - another habitual act of hers.
Everything within her, her heart, soul, and mind, felt more than complete as she cherished his nearness, and that smile. It was true when it was said that you never know how much you miss somebody or something until it's taken away, and then when it's given back to you. Orlando was her better half, her everything. Being away from him for so long had been almost unbearable. The two weeks after school when she had been transported to the East Coast, and knowing that after this Cruise, she'd be torn away from him for two more weeks made her feel almost desperate to be near him once more.
After those two weeks, though, she would be back in New York, near him, if not with him. That thought had been what had gotten her to go through with this. That, and she had come to value eating and having a roof over her head, so she needed to do it.
Laughing softly about his reasoning for being on the ship, Faithe shook her head in mild amusement. "You're fine sweetheart. Besides, look at it this way, just about any observatory would be willing to hire you after discovering your comet." Nudging him slightly, she wrinkled her nose as she grinned. Hearing him tell her that he missed her caused a small sigh of relief to escape her lips. Not that she doubted him, but she just assumed that he probably had too much on his plate to really think about her much.
Nodding as he pointed to the sky, a small sparkle flashed in her eyes. "I almost busted my butt in the shower trying to get up here so quickly. Are you here for the rest of the cruise?"
Faithe's remark about any observatory being willing to hire him was an incredible understatement. Since he had patented La Strife de la Foi, not a single day had passed where he hadn't received at least one letter or owl from a scientific society pleading with him to come work with them. There had been letters from every organization from the Ministry's department of Interplanetary Magical Relations and the muggle world's NASA to the tiniest research groups in both realms, but Orlando hadn't taken up a single one of them, and no one except him knew why. The man was strange like that, though; and this strangeness was evident in every aspect of how he reacted to discovering the comet.
He had gone about patenting the ball of icy rock in a highly unorthodox manner. He'd gone to a small observatory, put his name on the least amount of paperwork possible, not named it after himself, not publicized his discovery, politely refused interviews from science magazines and such, and, overall, not let his discovery affect him at all. After the hype about the new comet had died down, he'd continued getting pleas offering money, private research facilities and all the treasures any astronomer may have spent his or her life searching for. Orlando didn't accept a single offer though. In fact, he didn't even discuss the offers with anyone, not even Faithe. Instead, after reading through them and writing back a polite refusal, each letter was set neatly into a large box and there it sat. It was true that he could have used the money, and undeniable that the thought of having his own research facility intrigued him, but, taking all things into consideration, he eventually refused.
Taking any of those jobs would have brought him into the market of Astronomical Physicists, something that, although well renowned, wasn't exactly favorable to the man. He was certain that if he took that path, his abandoned family would want back in his life, if only just to get their share of the money, despite their already immense wealth. After the last day of his seventh year, he had simply picked up his things and left for the Cepheus School of Astronomy in Maine without so much as a "good-bye". Neither of the two parties had been too upset by this decision; contacts were severed, and it seemed more auspicious to both that way.
Not only would such a decision have opened that bolted door, but it also would have torn him from Rosencrantz, and his teaching there. Although he could have easily accepted a professor position at numerous universities across the world, there was something about the school that he just couldn't leave behind. Perhaps it was the plethora of memories lurking between every wall and in every classroom, but an intangible force seemed to hold him there. He knew that Faithe wouldn't be there the next fall, that he would still find himself reasonably ostracized from the rest of the staff, and that money would continue to be tight, but he didn't mind. Teaching was a passion of his, as were the heavens, and he couldn't think of a better place to pursue such things than Rosencrantz. It was on safe, welcoming, and tranquil in its place on the outskirts of Manhattan, and he couldn't ask for anything more.
"I like the job I have," he replied in a tone that wasn't threatening, but signified that he wasn't about to change his mind any time soon, if ever.
Noticing the way her breath took the form of a relieved sigh after he told her that he had missed her, a questioning look covered his face for a moment.
"What?" he teased, "Thought I wouldn't miss you?" Rolling his eyes slightly, he offered a small laugh.
"Impossible," he whispered.
[quote] "I almost busted my butt in the shower trying to get up here so quickly"[/quote]
Grinning at her comment, he raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Yeah, I'm stuck in the middle of thousands of gallons of water with my life in the hands of this little piece of metal's buoyancy until it gets back to port," he answered with a sigh.
"As long as I don't think about it, though, I should be alright.
"Can you do me a favor?" he asked, pulling back just slightly, as though he was going to ask her something important.
"Promise you'll keep me distracted."
Grinning, she tufted his hair lightly, sticking her tongue out, "I like the job you have too. I'm very proud of us too, Orlando Corvello Lorenz, we managed to be together and keep your job." Leaning forward, she rubbed her nose against Orlando's lightly, just as she and Kaytlin always did.
A half-smile spread on her face as he teased her. "I just figured you would be really busy this summer. Too busy to bore your mind with thoughts of me." Her half-smile faded from her face, but was replaced by a smile filled with warmth as his reassurance.
Seeing his inquisitive stare at her shower comment, she grinned. "I was shaving, and had my leg propped up on the side of the bath. I was trying to hurry, and my leg slipped. Luckily I didn't cut myself, but I did almost fall." Winking, she bent down and lifted her skirt to her knee, "But I am nice and smooth now."
Hearing him express his partial fears of being on the boat, she smiled softly at him. "You're fine sweetheart. Everything is perfectly safe."
Raising her eyebrow, a flirtatious grin spread over her face. "Keep you distracted, huh?" Stepping closer to him, so that her body was right up against hers, she brought her mouth to within a centimeter of his. Dropping her voice to a low purr, "What did you have in mind?"
"Me, too," Orlando replied, smiling as her nose touched his own. It was true, too. The number obstacles that they had overcome was rather impressive. They'd manage to hide their relationship from the school, control themselves in public, and yet still allow their relationship to bloom into something completely beautiful. And, now, after this cruise, they would finally be able to come completely clean to the entire world about who they were to one another. No more secrets, no more hiding. Thinking of how hard they'd worked all year long, Orlando began to move to look around, remembering that they were still on a school trip where he ought to still be the teacher, and Faithe the student, then stopped. She had graduated, and there wasn't anything against their relationship now. Besides, hidden by the darkness of the night sky, their silhouettes would only look like a pair of students, nothing too conspicuous on a trip such as this.
Chuckling, Orlando's face got a mischievous look in it at her comment about his thinking of her. He had had more than enough time to think about her. Throughout the long days of repairing the Maine cottage, he'd never lost thought of her for more than a few moments.
"I can assure you that 'boring' is hardly the word I'd use to describe whatever thoughts I had of you in Maine, ma Foi," he whispered, dropping to that lower octave that he hadn't used for quite awhile.
Throughout her recollection of the shower incident, Orlando's face wore an amused look, accented by the warm smile upon his lips and the entertained sparkle in his azure eyes. Shaking her head as she lifted her skirt, the smile broadened into one of his boyish grins.
Seeing the flirtatiousness contort Faithe's innocent face into an almost sultry one, the man knew what was coming. As his intuition proved correct and her body pressed against his, Orlando removed his hand from the railing. Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he ran them slowly and tantalizingly down her back; when they had nearly reached the conclusion of her spine, he linked his fingers together and pulled her tightly against him. Smiling at her as her warm breath blew across his lips, he felt his stomach nearly fall out from under him. She's too good at this.
"This works." he whispered back, still holding his voice down in the low octave.
((I'm listening to Completely...**sigh**))
"Of course, it still wouldn't be too smart to walk up to your fellow teachers, particularly the headmistress, and admit that you've been having a relationship with your Head Girl. They could still fire you...possibly." Reaching up, her fingers intertwined with his soft hair, her head tilting slightly.
Watching him look around, she smiled. "Everybody is at the deck party, it would be odd to see somebody else up here." Sliding her hand from his hair to his cheek, she smiled warmly at him, adoring the way he was. Everything about him still captivated her.
((**giggles** I just realized you called Orlando a she...Ha ha! So did I! In my post previous to yours!))
Smirking, she raised her left eyebrow, "So, what did you think about when you were in Maine?" There was a mischievous curiosity about her as she looked at him expectantly.
As she leaned against him, she'd had every intention of pulling back, but her objective had been erased from her mind as his hands ran down her back. Her eyes closed for a moment, opening when his hands hooked around her. Allowing herself to be pulled closer, a small shiver ran through her body. Her knees felt as if they were about to melt as he spoke in that baiting tone. A small half smile crossed her face at his words, her brown eyes seemingly growing darker.
"It does..." Whispering softly, her half smile melted into one of adoration and love. "Of course, you do still owe me a game of dominoes..." Reverting back to the joke on the train to Manhattan all those months ago, a playful smirk crossed her face.
((**runs off to change gender issue**))
Smiling as though he were drunk as her fingers wove themselves through his dark locks, Orlando merely shrugged at her comments about him being fired. They'd lasted this long, and he wasn't worried about anyone finding out now. Besides, as she had said, no one in their right mind would be out stargazing when there was a party going on.
The drunken smile turned into a devious smirk at her question about what he had thought of in Maine. Closing his eyes, as though he were recalling such feverish fantasies, the man let out a chuckle before looking back at her.
"Domino games," he replied in a voice that suggested that, if one didn't know the English language, would have suggested something rather, well. suggestive.
With her body pressed so tightly against his, Orlando felt the tiny shiver ripple through her body and grinned with the slightest bit of satisfaction. However, at her soft whisper, which seemed almost like a purr to his ears, the grin faded and was replaced by a smile at her mention of their forgotten "domino games".
"You'd better hope no one's watching us, Miss Cunningham," he whispered, never once allowing his stare to falter as his azure eyes remained locked into her dark brown ones.
Unwinding his fingers from each other, he wrapped one arm completely around her waist while the other hand slid tauntingly up her back and hooked onto her shoulder for a moment. After lingering there for a moment, it slipped around her arm and behind her neck, fingers slightly caressing her skin as his breath softly brushed her face, gentle as a morning zephyr.
"Because I do believe that, should someone stumble across us, this scene would be most incriminating to your perfect record."
As much as Orlando longed to lean in and kiss her, satisfying the burning lust building within him, he didn't. He would wait for her to crack, making him the victor in their little teasing battle.
A reverent smile crossed her face as Orlando's lips curled in that smile. the smile that always seemed to cross his face when she tussled with his hair. Which, she noticed, was becoming a habit of hers. Her face tilted curiously as he closed his eyes and she stuck her tongue out when he didn't really answer her question.
[quote] You'd better hope no one's watching us, Miss Cunningham[/quote]
"Why? Ashamed of me?" Winking to show she was teasing him, a mischievous grin played on her lips. As his hand slid up her back, however, the grin melted into barely a smile, but more of a pleasurable expression. Closing her eyes, she felt her knees almost give out on her, her neck tilted slightly as his hand massaged it. Opening her eyes, a shiver ran through her body as his breath tickled her lips.
At his words, her lips curled up in a grin as a soft laugh escaped her. Shaking her head, she stared at him adoringly. At this point, she really didn't care where her credibility stood with Rosencrantz. She had graduated, they couldn't do anything to her. However, she did worry about Orlando's credibility, and his job. Even if she had graduated, she had still been his student, and they would find someway to find out that they had been together while she was his student.
"I don't care about my perfect record, sweetheart." Sliding her finger gently along his jawline, she smiled at him. "I'd give up anything for you. Even if it incriminates my 'perfect record'." Unable to handle the distance much longer, though there was hardly any space left between the two. Leaning in, and wrapping her arms around his neck, she closed the distance between the two. Kissing him, she wrapped her arms around him tighter, almost scared that he'd be mean and pull away from her for the sake of teasing her.
"Ashamed of you?" Orlando repeated with an incredulous air to his voice. "I'm hardly ashamed of you, [I]ma Foi[/I]."
Although he had known full well she was just teasing him, the man couldn't pass up such a prime opportunity to shower the impressive young woman before him with compliments. She knew full well that he adored her, but there wasn't a doubt in Orlando's mind that she would have a problem hearing such words escape his lips again.
"You're accomplished, intelligent, compassionate, strong, determined and motivated. You just graduated as Head Girl at the top of your class. And, as a charming additional benefit, especially for yours truly, you are absolutely beautiful."
Allowing his voice to trail off, there passed a moment in which, had he not been so adamant about holding to his resolve not to kiss her first, the man most certainly would have pressed his mouth to hers. Yet, he resisted the impulse, instead allowing the shiver that passed through Faithe's body satiate him for the moment.
[quote]"I don't care about my perfect record, sweetheart."[/quote]
Shaking his head, Orlando decided he'd have a better shot at winning the silent battle if he relinquished his gravity and, like Faithe, split the tension with light-hearted conversation.
"Mm-hmm," he replied sarcastically, "You're an Athenian, Faithe; your perfect record's right up there on your list of 'most prized possessions'. right after me, of course."
Feeling her finger bourée along his jawline, the man's eyes closed for a moment and that drunken smile crossed his face once more.
"I know," he whispered back, reverting to a somewhat serious tone, "And I'd do the same for you."
It was definitely a good thing, in Orlando's mind, at least, that Faithe had moved to kiss him right then. Otherwise, the man was sure he would have broken.
One hand ran along her back while the fingers of the other entangled themselves in the loose strands of hair of her ponytail. Kissing her back, the man almost smiled through the kiss. He'd missed her, truly and madly. Now, standing on a boat in the middle of nowhere, with her in his arms, the man was reassured that they were meant for each other. If he had spent an eternity apart from her, thinking of her incessantly, and still felt so strongly about the young woman, there wasn't a doubt in his mind.
Gently pulling back after a brief while, he rested his forehead upon hers and let that boyish grin take over his face as a small laugh escaped his lips.
"I won."
((*cues Tealyr Montague's entrance from stage left*))
"One of these days, I swear to God, I'm going to become an (expletitive) murderer...I'm going to hang these (expletitive) brats by their toenails off of the (expletitive) stern..."
Growling underneath her breath, Tealyr Soleil Montague lethargically ascended the steps onto the deck. There were deep circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, which had made her even more disagreeable than usual. And, perhaps, disagreeable is an understatement. Quite an understatement.
A cigarette rested firmly out of the corner of her mouth as she climbed the steps. Only another hour of peace before she had to attend to her teacherly duties--namely patrolling the halls for those in violation of curfew. You would think that being the headmaster's daughter would allow her to enjoy her summer--but no. You would think that being the flesh and blood of one of the most prestigious headmistresses in the history of the school would allow her to spend her summer someplace nice, where she could just get away from it all, temporarily forget the fate she was doomed to...but, evidently not. Instead, she had to be subjected to the torture that she endured the rest of the year, where nightmares and reality had become one and the same. Brats, brats, brats...filthy, stinking, obnoxious Satan spawn everywhere she turned...Oh, the horror...
Taking out her wand, she lit the cigarette and took a deep drag off of it. Replacing her wand in her pocket, the woman paused as she passed the top stair. The night was calm and balmy. How picturesque, how calming, how uplifting--how disgusting. Her brown eyes flitted over to the party that was going on at the end of the deck. She was definitely going to steer clear of that area. Students...packed into every square inch...chattering and giggling...bumping and grinding...ugh. However, the large attendance at the party meant that the other areas of the ship were probably fairly empty...maybe, just maybe, she could finally get five minutes of peace and quiet...
She plucked the cigarette from between her lips, holding it between her index and middle fingers. A few dark brown strands of hair lingered over her face, occasionally moved by an evening breeze. Casually, she began to prowl along, looking for something to relieve her feelings of despair and worthlessness. There was nothing better than some good, old-fashioned discipline to relieve stress. Aha! Students kissing on the deck! Smirking malevolently, she quickened her pace as she walked over. The night cast everything in shadow; the perfect kind of atmosphere for the mayhem that, unknowingly, would commence as a result of her unusual discovery.
"Mmm mmm mmm," she mused as she approached them,"Teenage lust. How touching...One problem...the Cruise is supervised, by teachers, nonetheless. Identify yourselves...now."
Faithe's face turned a bright shade of red as his compliments met her ears. Her face lowered slightly as she shook her head, that bashful smile on her face. Lifting her eyes, but keeping her head down for the most part, she shook her head a little bit more firmly.
"You're such a good liar..." Reaching up, she pinched his cheeks gently. Laughing at his comment, she grinned. "Yes, well, my perfect record does mean a lot to me, but I'd be willing to give it up for you. Of course, it's underneath you." Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out at him playfully.
With his forehead on hers, her hand reached up and laid gently on his cheek, her eyes remaining close. After a few moments, and after his declaration, she opened her eyes and grinned, an impish expression in her eyes.
"I let you win. I figure, why not? I'm already up on you." Laughing softly, she rubbed her nose up against his. Of course, she was only partly being serious. Had she tried to hold out any longer, her knees would have given out on her.
Identify yourselves...now. Everything in Faithe's body came to a halt, including her breathing. It wasn't until she felt her head getting dizzy that she remembered to breathe. This couldn't be happening, not now. Swallowing hard, she stood up straight, almost afraid to look in Orlando's eyes. She knew she should turn around, but Faithe just couldn't bring herself to do it.
Returning Faithe's soft laugh with an Orlando-y grin, the man nuzzled his forehead against hers, wondering how he'd lasted this long without her.
Hearing Tealyr's familiar, authoritative voice proclaim their doom, the man's stomach dropped out from under him, instilling fear throughout his entire body. 'This can't be happening...' Warily, his eyes flitted past Faithe, focusing in on the young woman's recognizable figure and reassuring himself that he wasn't hearing things. A horrible sort of terror ensued upon him just then, comparable to that which he felt when he had entered his house every evening as a boy; he knew he would be punished, but how?
A plethora of thoughts was dancing through his mind. The almost comical irony of the Head Girl and the Head of Athena being busted for kissing on the deck, the twisted irony of the woman seeing them being Tealyr and, most of all, how he was going to get out of this mess.
The most obvious solution to their problem would have been simply for Orlando to apparate the pair back to his stateroom or something. It would have been easy enough; after all, Faithe was already in his arms. However, this thought didn't even occur to him as he stood there, not quite moving and barely breathing.
Keeping the eerie silence in tact, he shared a worried glance with Faithe before gently guiding the girl to the side of him, still allowing her to shield her face from Tealyr's gaze if she so desired, but placing his own face clearly in the woman's view. His eyes held a look of terror while the rest of his mien was unreadable, almost vacant, as he waited for her response, knowing that, because of their past, the events to come wouldn't be pleasant ones at all...
Hand on her hip, Tealyr had gone to take a drag from her cigarette at the exact moment when Orlando's face came into view. She was so shocked that she forgot to exhale and ended up swallowing smoke. Chest heaving forward, she broke into a coughing fit, pounding her chest with a fist as her eyes remained as wide as saucers.
"Lorenz?!" she choked out, coughing some more. Breathing deeply, she stood back up and her eyes narrowed. "I mean, Lorenz," she quickly spat in a much more unpleasant tone. It was Orlando Corvello Lorenz...Ooh, she wanted to just cringe at the name. She had spent the previous years of her teaching career trying to avoid this man at all costs...and she had just intruded upon him kissing someone under the stars.
Her eyes flitted over to the young woman in his arms, still facing the other direction. How embarrassing, she thought, smirking internally.
Taking a step forward, she looked from Lorenz to the woman and back to Lorenz again. With a bit of a bewildered smirk, she studied the young woman- -or what she could see of her--in his arms. She gave a bit of a snort. Well, she wasn't in uniform, so she didn't think that she was one of the staff members...And she didn't think she was a teacher from another school-- if she was, Tealyr would've already met her...Wait...wait...wait a minute...was that a student?!
She noted the look of horror in the other Professor's eyes. Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, she tilted her head slightly. "What is going on here?" she demanded in a low, deadly, though awfully confused, voice.
Orlando hadn't even wanted to come on the cruise in the first place for a plethora of reasons. This particular situation, however, hadn't been one of them, but was, by far, the worst thing that could have happened, save, maybe, him finding out Faithe had snuck around and ended up with a male roommate and not even thought of him once. Knowing the latter to be an impossibility, his mind concurred that, indeed, [I]this[/I] was the worst thing that could happen.
Waiting and watching the woman's reaction, the man merely stayed put. Intuitively feeling Faithe's fear, he allowed his arms to shelter her, covering her as best he could and doing a remarkable job of keeping her identity unknown to Tealyr for the moment. Mentally recalling their joke about her perfect record and their good standing with the school, Orlando closed his eyes, almost believing in jinxes for a minute. This was precisely what he had feared, what he had tried so hard to prevent that morning when he'd told Faithe that they couldn't continue.
Yet they had somehow pushed that thought out of their minds and used their combined intelligence to preclude such a disaster. Throughout the entire school year, they'd managed not to even let the slightest hint of their relationship creep into the open, keeping it locked behind his door and hidden from prying eyes out on the hillside he'd taken her that first night. Now, all that work was for nothing. He had known there were too many risks like this; not only could their relationship hurt him, but it could also ravage the girl's credibility with the school as well as her peers and her family. Even so, looking back, he knew that he wouldn't have changed the decision he made that morning to be with Faithe. She'd brought too much good into his life. There had to be a way around this mess.
Watching as Tealyr recognized him and listening to her words, the man's look of terror transformed into one of slight bewilderment. If taken literally, her question had been redundant; what was going on was obvious- she had walked in on him kissing a young woman. But her question wasn't to be taken as such. Orlando knew what she wanted- an explanation as to exactly who this girl was. Judging from the look in her eyes, she had already deducted Faithe was a student, but hadn't quite figured out her identity, or, hopefully, not even which school she was from.
"Do you have to ask, Tealyr?" he said quietly.
Tealyr had known him quite well though, and he was sure that, soon enough, the woman would figure everything out. He didn't enjoy water, therefore wouldn't be on the cruise if he didn't have to be, and, seeing as a professor had left the previous day, he was probably replacing them. Noting the passion with which he had been kissing Faithe, she'd guess they had been together for quite some time. Knowing Orlando's feelings about women, the young girl would probably be an Athenian, and, from that deduction, as well as the color of the hair protected under his arm, she would presume Faithe's identity. Ah, yes, Orlando could see it now: their entire world falling apart.
But maybe, just maybe, there was a way out. if he could convince Tealyr to keep her mouth shut, which wouldn't be too easy of a task. Orlando considered himself an honest man, and asking Tealyr to lie in essence didn't bode well with his conscious, and he was sure it would do the same with hers. Not only was corrupting their integrity a problem, but also the fact that Tealyr and he weren't exactly close anymore. After the Demeter incident, she too had seen things in a different light and their friendship became another casualty of that event.
Sighing inwardly, he closed his eyes and took a breath. Re-opening them, he glanced at Tealyr with an almost pleading look in his eyes. Somehow he had to make her understand.
Tealyr had opened her mouth to give him a reply, but she seemed to be unable to say anything cynical, degrading, or witty. Actually, for the moment, she seemed to be unable to say anything at all. Knowing Orlando for all those years had given her plenty of insight into his personality...She knew that he was a very genuine person in need of affection...he had his parents to thank for that...but a student?!
She spitefully tossed her cigarette butt down to the deck and put it out with sole of her shoe, taking another few steps forward. She stopped at about a foot away from them, one hand resting on the railing. This was just too much. Tealyr, still staring at Orlando with that same disgust and loathing that she had had for him ever since their disagreement, now turned her cold eyes to the student in his arms.
"Don't play games with me, Lorenz," Tealyr snapped, still staring at the back of Faithe's head and trying to recognize her. Getting frustrated with this attempt, she glanced back at her former comrade, frozen to his desperate expression. She still wanted to know the facts; who was this girl, what was she doing kissing Orlando, and why they were together in the first place. "Dammit, Lorenz, what do you think you're doing?!"
Standing there, absolutely petrified, Faithe couldn't bring herself to turn around. A plethora of emotions were rolling through her very being, but most of all was guilt. How could she have been so careless? This was her fault. Orlando's job was on the line because of her. He had tried to put an end to their relationship in the beginning, but Faithe had somehow managed to guilt him into giving it a chance. Look where it got him now...
Though she felt some comfort by his attempt to keep her face hidden, her entire body was tense and beginning to tremble. She had never known that Tealyr and Orlando really knew each other, but the disdain that was evident in both their words conveyed a message to Faithe that they knew each other better than she had first thought.
...what do you think you're doing?! Even as she stood there, silently, a plan had been ensuing in her mind. There was a way out of it, she knew that much. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Turning around suddenly, there was a sudden resolution inside of the Rosencrantz alumna.
"He's not doing anything. This isn't his fault." Her voice came out shaky, but there was a truthfulness about her countenance. Sighing, she stepped away from Orlando, standing to the side of two, facing them.
"I bribed him. I've been bribing him all year long. My brother's best friend made a bet with me at the start of term that I couldn't make a teacher fall in love with me. I have this massive problem with not being able to turn down bets. I did a lot of digging around the school and found out about his past with his ex-girlfriend. I told him if he didn't go along with me so I could win the bet then I would spread it around school." For the second time in her life, Faithe was thankful she had grown up on a stage. Every word out of her mouth stabbed her in her heart, but on the outside, she appeared completely genuine. Looking from Orlando to Tealyr, she bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
"I also warned him that if the staff mysteriously found out about it, I'd squeal." Sighing, she lowered her eyes to the boat floor. Swallowing with difficulty, she wondered how she was managing to say all this without throwing up. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Tealyr before she spoke again.
"Tonight was supposed to be the last night. I'll go pack my bags and line up a boat to leave immediately. I've graduated; I have no reason to stay. You won't see or hear from me again." Turning her gaze from Tealyr to Orlando, there was a seriousness in her expression. "Either of you. I've caused enough trouble, there's no need for anymore to be had on my account."
"Not over something as stupid as a bet." These words were said to Tealyr, but her gaze was unable to shift from Orlando's eye until after her last word. Turning to Tealyr, where she was sure she would be meeting a very unfriendly face, Faithe took a step back. "His credibility doesn't deserve to be abated for something he couldn't really help." Turning away, she made her way quickly to the stairs, tears peaking in her eyes. Practically running down the stairs, tears were already cascading down her cheeks by the time she reached the bottom step.
Ever pleading, Orlando's eyes had remained intense all throughout Tealyr's confused, yet spiteful, remarks. His head had shook at her first comment; he wasn't playing games, and she knew it. Getting frustrated and rather anxious as her eyes remained cold and disdainful, he felt the tension grow. The prospective future was looming over his head like the blade of a guillotine- ready to strike him down at any moment.
[quote]"Damnit, Lorenz, what do you think you're doing?"[/quote]
The inflection she put on his name, compiled with how she had used his last name, brought about a sense of dread to the man. They had been so close as friends that it hurt to bring back the disdainfulness they'd reverted to two years ago and, henceforth, had forgone by means of simply staying away from each other. Now, though, in spite of her tone, he could tell that the woman before him was just frustrated, and, still, like two years ago, couldn't understand him.
She had asked him a question, though- given him a choice- and he could choose to run away, or, he thought, he could choose the road less traveled and speak the truth. Opening his mouth, he had been ready to spill everything to his once good friend in hopes that, maybe, just maybe, this time she would understand. then Faithe spoke. Her shaky words were quiet, yet still audible, and, yet, above all, unexpected. His eyes darted towards her, radiating confusion as he let up his arm and allowed her straighten her spine, never once thinking that she would step away from him like that. With the situation as it was, they were together against Tealyr; now it was Faithe versus Orlando and Tealyr. Too shocked to say anything, he remained silent as Faithe spoke.
At first, his jaw merely dropped. What was she doing? Executing some sort of master back-up plan? No, she was speaking too strongly and with too much passion. For a moment, Orlando was worried- scared that the words coming out of her mouth, save the bribing part, were true, and that she had just been too good of an actress. The last words of that thought echoed in his head, though, and, in the span of another moment, his mind concocted another idea: Faithe was lying to get them out of trouble. His mind jumped back to the previous thought, though, at the allusion to Demeter. Faithe, of all people, knew how badly he'd been hurt by her, and she wouldn't bring it up so casually. unless she had to-back to the other point of view.
With almost each sentence that the young woman's sweet voice spoke, Orlando's thoughts switched sides. He didn't know what to believe. until her last words. The look in her eyes was undeniably true- she was leaving him, and not for anything of either of their doing, but because she was being her own selfless self.
'[I]Damnit, Faithe, why can't you ever just care about yourself?[/I]'
He knew exactly what she was doing- giving up everything because she thought it would be better for him. But, what she couldn't see was that by her just giving up, she was just throwing away the entire past year. All their memories, feelings, the trust they'd come to earn (and re-earn) from one another, the security they'd brought to one another's life, and the love they'd shared. He knew that if he was feeling as he did then she had to at least be feelings equally as desolate, and Orlando wasn't about to add a perfect relationship to his collection of failed ones over something as trivial as Tealyr seeing them.
As aforementioned, Orlando Corvello Lorenz was hardly a violent or even vengeful man. He used his magic for good and, on occasion, stupid little things like cleaning up French toast batter or summoning discarded clothes from the lake to his bedroom, but, only when faced with no other choice would he ever use it to harm someone else. But, in this particular case, the man knew that, if worse came to worse, he would cast a memory spell on Tealyr Montague and make her forget ever seeing them.
It wouldn't come to that, though. At least, he hoped it wouldn't. He knew Tealyr to be a reasonable woman, and, in spite of their trials, toils and strife, he believed her to still be as such. She wouldn't turn him in. No, she'd remember their friendship and, if nothing else, have some sort of conscience. She had to; there was no other way.
As Faithe turned and made for the stairs, gaining momentum with each step, all logical thoughts were pushed out of the man's head save one: keeping Faithe. Some part of his mind warned that everything Faithe had done just then- everything she had given up- would have been done in vain if he went off after her. Still, he couldn't just let her leave like that. She'd think he thought he was better off without her, that he bought into her whole story about how having her wasn't worth his credibility, that he didn't love her. No, he couldn't let those thoughts invade her mind. provided that was what was happening; he still wasn't sure.
Shaking his head at Tealyr, he met her gaze with eyes that were oddly soft, free of the disdain that had clouded them whenever he had met hers before in the past two years.
"Please, Teal. Wait here?"
And with that, he bolted off after Faithe. Catching up with her at the bottom step, he wrapped her in a sort of hug, preemptively fighting whatever efforts she would make to break free.
"What [I]was[/I] that, Faithe?" he asked, just loud enough for her to hear him. His voice was defined, but still radiated the hurt and confusion within him.
Tealyr crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and leaning leisurely against the railing. She continuously nodded and gave curt 'mmm- hmm's and 'uh-huh's throughout Faithe's speech, occasionally tapping her foot or examining her nails. Tealyr couldn't bring herself to entirely believe the story. It didn't make sense.
Firstly, Faithe's reputation preceded her. There wasn't a day during the school year that talk in the staff room consisted of praise about the 'wonderful Faithe Cunningham.' Every other Rosencrantz teacher couldn't help themselves from commenting about how intelligent she was, how attentive she was, how reliable and well-mannered--oh, such a role model. She had no knowledge of a previous disciplinary record--after all, Faithe was Head Girl. Secondly, she had known...or thought she had known Professor Lorenz to be an intelligent, sensible man. He wouldn't have gone along with something that could put his whole future in jeopardy just because of some juvenile bet--even if there was a threat to his reputation, there were memory-modifying and secret-keeping spells to make sure his credibility stayed intact. Thirdly, if she was, indeed, a bet and a bribe, wouldn't witnesses be necessary in order to verify that he did, indeed, fall in love with her? Why bother taking part in the bribe when no one was around to make sure that she was following through with the bet? Finally, while this wasn't exactly solid evidence that stated that her story was incredible, the fact was that there were few loopholes, if none. Children who lie frequently know how to lie specifically to be believed--one doesn't keep adding details to cover themselves. Tealyr could always spot a good liar-- she had been one herself. "It's like when a child is lying, nervously, for the first time in front of their parents. "Johnny, where's your homework?" "The dog ate it." "We don't have a dog." "Well, we do now!"
Tealyr just didn't believe it--and watching Orlando run after Faithe confirmed her suspicion. She snorted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust. He had called her Teal...like they were buddies or something. Puh-lease! This whole situation was just...incomprehensible. And she STILL wanted to know what was going on, damnit!
Disregarding Orlando's plea, she watched him walk below and then she slowly followed, stopping just out of the range of sight near the top step. Unable to hear anything, she looked over the edge of the railing and raised an eyebrow.
Turning away, she leaned against the railing and lit up another cigarette. "What have I gotten myself into..." she mused darkly.
Feeling the restraint of his arms around her, Faithe was almost too stunned to say anything. Or even react for that matter. As soon as she comprehended who was behind her, she began to wriggle fiercely. However, her strength was nothing compared to Orlando's, so trying to get away from him wasn't going to work.
Sighing frustratedly, Faithe shook her head for a moment. Finally, turning around, her eyes met his.
"Orlando, what are you doing?" Half moaning the question, there was a look of confusion and despair on her face. Why did he leave Tealyr? That was the dumbest move he could have made. Sighing, she lowered her eyes as she sought for an answer to his question.
"Orlando," speaking quietly so that her voice was barely audible to Orlando, let alone the spying Tealyr, Faithe forced her eyes to dry up," This is my fault. You were apprehensive about this from the beginning because of a situation like this. You have a job you love at a school you adore, and I refuse to be the cause of something you love so much being put in jeopardy." After she spoke, she made an attempt to wiggle away from him.
((Man, does this suck.))
Faithe's words confirmed the man's earlier fear that she was letting her guilt manipulate her selflessness. Letting out a breathy sigh, he resisted her attempt to squirm free of his embrace, refusing to let her go due to his fear of her running off. Tightening one arm around her small body, the other's hand reached up to brush the salt-water streams from her face, noticing that the tears themselves had ceased to fall.
"Faithe."
He spoke her name quietly, but it was still filled with that sweet sincerity that the man nearly always spoke it with.
"How can you even think that my job is more important than you? More important than us?"
His voice was quiet and eerily calm as he spoke, in spite of how confused his mind was; his eyes complemented his voice, telling her that he was speaking the truth; and his hand added to the effect, wiping down her face and settling gently upon her shoulder.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back, too cagey to rest it upon her forehead with her wriggling as she was. She had been right when she'd mentioned that he'd been apprehensive about their relationship. in the beginning, that was. He had known the risks of such a thing, but, as aforementioned, he knew that, if given the opportunity to go back and change the decision he made that morning, he wouldn't.
"Is this what you want, Faithe? Truly?" he asked looking back into her eyes, not as certain as he once had been that her answer would be the one he longed to- and needed to- hear.
Silently, a thought, or rather, a memory entered his mind.
"Don't make this decision based on what you think I can or cannot handle. If this is what you truly want because you have different feelings, that's one thing, but don't make this decision based on technicalities that can easily be gotten around," he whispered, repeating the words from his mind with just a few barely noticeable alterations.
"Believe me when I tell you this, Faithe: I love you," he whispered, completely sincerely.
"And just because the unthinkable's happened doesn't make this the end. Even if all hope is gone and it looks as though the jig is up, it's not. As long as we still love each other, it'll never end, Faithe. no matter what happens.
"And, keep in mind, nothing's happened yet. Just because Tealyr knows doesn't mean anything."
Giving up on any attempts at an escape, her body slumped against his arms. Watching him with sad eyes, she bit her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check. Opening her mouth to answer his question, nothing came out. Closing her eye, she lowered her head.
She knew what he was trying to do, but part of her wished he hadn't done this. She loved with Orlando more than anything, which was why she didn't want to put his job on the line. She told him that she would give up anything for him, even if it meant walking away from everything she had come to know and love.
Hearing him repeat those words she had spoken to him what seemed like a lifetime ago, Faithe dropped her eyes. She knew Tealyr wouldn't just let this drop. The disdain and impatience in the woman's voice had given that away. Swallowing hard, she looked back up with him with more regret than she had ever felt in her life.
"I'm leaving Orlando..."
Although the party at the far end of the deck may have been loud, Orlando had drowned out the noise. To him, the base of the stairwell was completely silent, save even the quietest noise that Faithe made. Waiting for a response, the moment of silence seemed like a sickening eternity to the man, lasting longer than his entire life thusfar. She had to understand; this was one of those things that she just had to understand...
In that moment, like most moments in the man's life where the core of his being hung in limbo, time passed slowly. A second was a minute, a minute and hour and so forth. In that near-minute of silence, his eyes remained locked on hers for every elongated second. At first, they searched hers, trying so desperately to foresee the words that would come out of her mouth, or, if not that, just to see what she was thinking.
'Tell me what you're thinking, Faithe...' his mind screamed. Yet the shout was only noticeable in the way the man's eyes had become a swirled slate blue instead of their typical light cerulean.
After a seemingly long while, something lit up in her eyes- that spark of regret, which, within seconds, had grown into a warmly somber fire within those brown orbs. He could see it now.
'No... this isn't happening. She has to understand...'
Beginning to gnaw absentmindedly upon his tongue with his molars, the man's front teeth dug almost viciously into his lower lip, trying to prepare himself, physically, for the pain that he could see coming while trying to prevent that pain with his eyes. Soft, sincere and pleading, they gazed into Faithe's, turning a near periwinkle color as they begged her to understand.
Her words dug into him, and his breath caught in his chest, causing a sort of quiet, choking gasp to escape his lips.
Why was she doing this? Tealyr knowing wasn't a big deal; she wouldn't tell. She'd remember their friendship and keep their secret. Everything would be just fine. Faithe was overreacting, and it was causing her mind to contort things. Yes, that was it. She was simply overthinking things, believing that he would lose his job over their relationship.
Although Orlando considered even that and impossibility, even if it were so, he knew that he wouldn't care. He had meant what he had said, too: he'd give up anything for her. Those words hadn't been trite- they'd been genuine. He would give up the world for her not because he wanted to see her happy (although he did), but more for a selfish reason: as long as he had her, the world didn't matter to him. Why couldn't she see that?
Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a most painful sigh. Re-opening them, they searched hers, trying to make some sort of connection with her.
"No, you're not," he replied, securing his grip upon her waist.
Taking his hand off her shoulder, he ran it upon her face, hoping that his fingertips' caress would have some effect on her- any effect on her.
"I'm not letting you go when I know you don't want to."
Faithe felt like the worst person in the world at that moment. When Kaytlin had been taken, she thought she would never be put in a situation where guilt was such an adamant part of her emotions. If she stayed, and Orlando lost his job, she would never be able to forgive herself for doing that to him.
Staring into his dark eyes, she felt lost. Unsure of what to do or what to say, she simply stood there. His eyes, which were normally twinkling with excitement, now held an unhappiness. An unhappiness you caused him Faithe. This is your fault, all of it. If you stay, you're going to cost him his job. You aren't worth that.
Feeling his arm tighten around her waist, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep her breathing steady. When she opened them, there were tears on the verge of falling, but she held them in. Feeling his hand on her face, her head tilted instinctively towards his hand. Sighing at his last comment, she dropped her eyes. She wanted what was best for Orlando, and her leaving would be just that. Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes back up at him.
"You go talk to her. I'm going to my room. If she agrees to keep quiet, with no strings attached, then I'll stay. However, if she threatens to tell, or comes up with some sort of catch for remaining silent, I am leaving."
Feeling her lean into his hand, a flicked of hope crossed Orlando's eyes as they stared into Faithe's. only to be extinguished in a matter of milliseconds by that hauntingly familiar swallow. His attempt had been futile. Why, though? What had happened between when they had been kissing one another and that moment right then that could have possibly affected her so much? Did she really think that keeping his job was worth more to either of them than the other? No, surely Faithe couldn't believe something as ridiculous as that. she was too smart.
Yet, as she spoke, offering him a sort of ultimatum, he found himself unsure. It almost sounded as if she didn't want to be with him at all. that, maybe, it had just been some sort of joke. Sighing, he let his hand slump down to her shoulder and, from there, trail down her arm until, at last, it hung reluctantly by his side. Confused, frustrated and dejected, Orlando had given up.
"Maybe that's a good idea," he replied, with an expression that can't really be described ((think Sharon from AE on the line "Maybe going is a good idea")).
Dropping his hand from around her waist, he took a step back, completely separating himself from her physically as she had done to him emotionally.
He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide something. Then, moved to turn around.
"Did you even ever love me, Faithe?"
The words came out in a sort of hushed whisper, and, although he had tried to make them sound bitter, they only reflected hurt.
Not even leaving her time to respond, he trudged up the steps, praying that Tealyr wouldn't have gone anywhere.
Halfway up the steps, Tealyr's figure came into view, leaning against the railing, and a sigh of half-relief escaped the man's lips. Walking over, he stopped about three feet from her, waiting for her to say something because he knew that, if he were to open his mouth right then, the only thing that would come out was a sob.
Even though she had initiated the thought of her leaving, hearing it come from his lips was like a stab in the heart with a serrated knife. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she swallowed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she forced herself to nod. Opening them, a few tears betrayed her and slipped down her cheeks. She fought to breathe as he detached himself from her, feeling as if part of her had just been torn from her body.
Did you even ever love me, Faithe? A look of utter shock crossed her face as Orlando's words hung in the air, a look that rivaled her expression all those months ago in the hotel. A small, inaudible whimper escaped her throat as her knees threatened to give out on here. Hearing Orlando question something like that absolutely killed her. How could he not know that she was doing this for him?
I should have asked you that when you cheated on me... Angry at herself with her thoughts, Faithe was eternally grateful she had not vocalized them. It wouldn't have helped the situation, and she knew regret would have overtaken her had she allowed them to slip out. Watching him go, Faithe felt as if she were watching her heart and soul leaving her.
Turning, she walked away. Struggling to keep from losing it, she stopped by the service desk. The earliest she could get out of there was an hour, which gave her time to pack and brood.
By the time she was pulling her key from her pocket, her tears were continually flowing. She felt hurt and lost, unsure of what lay ahead of her. Slamming the door shut, she threw the key on the table. Opening her suitcase on the bed, she began shoving clothes in it roughly, not bothering to fold them. Reaching for her watch on the nightstand, she pulled her hand back and knocked a glass of water onto the floor.
Her nerves rattled when the sound of the breaking glass filled the silence. Letting out a frustrated scream, Faithe bent down to pick up the glass. Only, instead of following through, the floodgates opened and she began sobbing. Burying her face in her hands, she allowed her pain and frustration to pour out.
Tealyr slowly stood up straight, raising both eyebrows. Orlando looked severely upset. Shifting uncomfortably, she took another drag of the cigarette. Her expression was devoid of any sort of sympathy, but there was a bit less animosity too. "Lorenz," she hesitated, "now will you tell me what in the hell is going on here?"
Glancing over his shoulder, a pair of gray-blue eyes met Jacques Kerouac Hilton in the mirror. He sighed and glanced away, averting his eyes to the blade in his hands. He sat cross-legged upon the counter of the sink. The florescent lights inside of the bathroom stared down bleakly at him. He sat in silence, occasionally prodding his skin with the knife, digging the tip into his flesh to see how far it could go before he drew blood.
For hours he must've sat this way, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, brown hair falling forward. His eyes were the main indication of his pensieve reverie. They were clouded and troubled, far-off and thoughtful. He hadn't really done anything to himself yet; he just sat there. There were a few red spots where he had poked himself and one small, thin, barely noticable scrape, a bit like a papercut. He seemed to come to some resolution, for he sat up straighter and his eyes focused. Raising the knife, he braced himself...and then froze.
There was the slamming of a door...someone had come in...Overcome with dread, he sprung off of the counter and peeked through the sliver of open space between the doorframe and the almost-closed door. His eyes widened, feeling his stomach drop out of him. It was Faithe.
Hurriedly he scrambled with the drawers, shoving the knife inside the box of facial tissue in the bottom drawer. He made a frantically poor attempt to put everything back in its proper place. The Athena slowly and apprehensively opened the door, rolling his sleeves down speedily and catching his breath at the sight of the sobbing Faithe.
His eyes traveled from the broken glass before her, to the carelessly placed keys, to the clothes strewn about the suitcase. "Oh my God," he gasped, "hurrying over to Faithe, his bare feet treading through the spilled water, "Oh my God, Faithe, what's wrong?!"
He stared in horror as she wept, the mere sight of her fallen form stabbing him through the heart. He wanted to reach out and hold her, comfort her, but he was afraid that she wouldn't want that...that she would push him away. Whipping out his wand, he cleaned up the broken glass.
"Faithe...please...what's wrong?" he asked quietly, eyes wide with horror. Sweet, easygoing, reserved Faithe...sobbing like this...it wasn't natural...it was beyond unsettling...
Pursing his lips together, Orlando merely stood there for a moment in silence. He couldn't talk yet; he could still feel that unswallowable lump lingering in his throat and wasn't about to let Tealyr see him cry. Perhaps he would have if they had still been close friends, but not with the way things were now.
Her words echoed through his mind as a vacant look overcame his face. What in the hell was going on? He was reasonably sure that whatever he had Faithe had had was gone just then, but exactly how it happened. that was the part the man hadn't a clue about. It was eerie really- almost haunting in a sense- the feeling the man felt at that particular moment, which was one he had felt at but one other time in his entire life: two years ago, to the date. Confusion, betrayal, guilt. a mix of other emotions coursed through his body, yet the feeling itself couldn't possibly be described in any amount of words.
"I think I just lost the best thing I've ever had." he replied quietly, "and I don't even know how it happened."
Tealyr's eyes widened and she gave a snort of disbelief. She glanced back at the base of the stairs and then towards Orlando again. Staring at him, she tilted her head slightly. She didn't know what to feel. Orlando Lorenz having a relationship with a student?!
"You mean...you...her..." she stumbled, "The best thing you ever had? The best thing you've ever had?!"
She couldn't believe it. Standing up straight, she began to pace slightly, taking another drag of the cigarette to calm her mounting nerves. Biting her lip, she glanced at Orlando again and then back out into the vast abyss. She was shocked.
"What's her name?" she inquired quietly, shaking her head.
Throughout Tealyr's reaction, Orlando's face never lost its look of vacancy. His eyes were glassy, and held a certain ambiguity in them, lost in the swirled slate blue color. He hadn't really thought about how Tealyr would react, or how he would react if the roles had been reversed, but he knew he didn't exactly appreciate her incredulousness. Then again, how was she supposed to react?
Still keeping the vacant look upon his face, he offered a slight nod as she repeated his last phrase. Faithe had been, by far, the best thing ever in his life... The time spent with her had been more amorous than that with Demeter, more thrilling than broomstick rides through the stars, and more fulfilling than teaching Astronomy. ((And that sentence sucked... How cheesy!))
Watching in silence as Tealyr seemed to take on a pensive demeanor, Orlando took a quiet breath. Fear resumed running through his veins. Again, he felt as though he were a little boy again, filled with trepidation as he waited to see what kind of terror would unfold itself that night.
"What's her name?" Looking up, his eyes met hers, although, rather than look into hers, his gaze seemed to look either past or through her.
"Isabelle Faithe Cunningham," he replied just as softly, "You know who she is, Tealyr."
"Faithe Cunningham?!" she repeated, flabbergasted. Looking awway, she snorted again. "The head girl...You have been swapping spit with the head girl..."
Tealyr realized that she was now trying to smoke a cigarette butt and threw it down upon the deck, pulling out another one with shaking fingers and lighting it. "So is there anything else you'd like to confess? Any other tiny, little secrets--white, little lies--you've been keeping up?"
Shaking her head, she leaned against the railing again. "I never thought--" she began, and then resumed, "Let me ask you something. How did you honestly think that you'd be able to maintain something like this under secrecy? Did you truly believe that no one was going to find out what you have been doing with the students of this school?! You're insane, Lorenz...this is...this is just ridiculous..."
"You have been swapping spit with the head girl..." Well, that was certainly one way to put it. A very vulgar way to put it, but a way to put it nevertheless. What more could one expect from Tealyr Soleil Montague? She wasn't exactly the hopeless romantic Orlando was and therefore couldn't possibly have been expected to find the endearing innocence in a kiss. Sighing, Orlando's vacant look seemed to thaw a bit, giving the woman a sort of knowing look that seemed to say "Obviously..."
At her next prodding question, Orlando remained silent. Confessions... The man hadn't too many of those to make. Those things he thought people should know, they knew. Other than that, he didn't see a need to exploit his personal affairs for the entertainment of others. Perhaps if he and Tealyr had still been close, he might have mentioned his rendez-vous with one Demeter Elisabeth Lawrance back in Manhattan (then again, if he had been close with her, she would have been the first to know about such an affair), but, given current circumstances, the thought didn't even cross his mind.
As Tealyr continued speaking, Orlando remained still, casually allowing his eyes to remain fixated upon her. Little did the woman know that they -had- maintained something like that under secrecy for nearly the entire year, and, if he hadn't been so careless, no one would know even then. SHe didn't seem to understand though. It was as though she didn't get the fact that Orlando loved Faithe and that they were so right for each other... Just like with Demeter, Tealyr was seemingly unable to comprehend the emotions involved. To her, it appeared that Orlando was just in one careless relationship after another.
"Student," Orlando corrected her as she implied Faithe hadn't been the only one.
"I've been with her since September, Tealyr. We've obviously done a rather good job of keeping ourselves a secret from the rest of the school..."
"You WHAT?!" she cried, astonished. Might it be noted that the author apologizes for any repetitive adjectives from this point forward--there are only so many ways to write the word "surprised." Anyways, Tealyr began sputtering again. "But you...she...how did you...UGH."
"You're such an idiot, Orlando," she spat. She had finally dropped the resentful formalities for a more informal manner...a resentful informal manner...but an informal manner nonetheless. "First that whore, and now one of your students! I can't believe this..."
"Do you have any idea what this means?" she demanded, giving Orlando a 'I- can't-believe-you-are-so-incompetent' look, "Forget the end of your teaching career, this could be the end of Rosencrantz and its credibility..."
Sighing agitatedly, she huffed once more on the cigarette. "This is positively disastrous," she muttered, "and, on top of that, genuinely outlandish."
Wither her face buried in her hands, Faithe hadn't even noticed Jacques's entrance into the room. Or even the fact that he had come from the bathroom. So used to being alone, it had never occurred to her to see if her roommate was in the room. The disappearance of the broken glass went unseen by her normally observant brown eyes.
Eight years' worth of pent up anger, bitterness, and pain were finally beginning to shower out of the eighteen year old. Not once did she allow her tongue to lash out foolishly at her parents' possessive control over her life. Or at Jake for sticking up for them. She had shown patience and tolerance of Eddie's constant attempts to get somewhere with her. The only time since she was a child that Faithe's tears had run away with her had been during Kayte's abduction.
Her entire life had been spent trying to live up to the endless expectations the world had seemed to throw at her. For once she had found something, someBODY, who didn't hold that same expecatation for her, and it was falling down the drain. A distant voice resounded in her head, though it wasn't that of Jacques.
Astronomy, Isabelle? That's foolish! You cannot make a living with your head in the stars! You're a Cunningham, not an insolent dreamer and gazer! Her father's condescending voice replayed in her head. Sobbing harder into her hands, a violent shudder ran through her body.
Your brother graduated in the top five of his class. You can do better than that. Never settle for less than what you can achieve. The goading voice of her mother replaced her father's voice. Faithe had never seen a point in striving so hard for academic excellence when her parents refused to let her use it for her future.
They love you, Izzy. Their way of showing us how much is by making sure we do what is best for them. Jake's calm and rational voice only upset her more. It was easy for him to say that because he wanted what they did.
Did you ever even love me? The most painful memory of all. Orlando had been the first person to love her for who she was, and not because of what she was capable of. Those two weeks when they hadn't spoken had been tortorous. Now she was looking forward to a lifetime without the man she loved.
Faithe...please...what's wrong?" Upon hearing Jacques's last plea, Faithe finally heard his voice for the first time. Feeling an icy chill sweep through her, she slowly lifted her head to look at him. The last thing in the world she wanted was for somebody to see 'perfect little Faithe Cunningham' losing control of herself. Wiping her eyes in a futile attempt to cover up her outburst, she shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
As Tealyr reprimanded him, there was a part of Orlando that still carried fear. Perhaps it was because of his abusive childhood, but the man felt like, at any moment, Tealyr would begin thrashing upon him. While this part existed, there was another that, although still timid, felt its resolve strengthening with each word she said.
Although what he had done might not have been exactly legal or "right" according to the educational code, Orlando felt that it did still hold a least a little bit of sanctity. There was something about love- not lust- that was innocent, respectable and admirable. Tealyr didn't seem to understand that part of it, and Orlando didn't hold it against the woman, who he hadn't ever really known to be in a serious relationship where love was the central focus.
As Tealyr trailed off, sputtering random words and phrases, Orlando answered her half-spoken question.
"How?" he repeated quietly, "We fell in love, Tealyr."
His eyes dropped themselves down to the deck as she denounced his mental capabilities. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps...
"That whore"
Hearing those words, Orlando's head snapped up and his sorrowful blue eyes lost their desolateness and glowed a fiery cerulean.
"Don't you ever call Demeter that, Tealyr," he threatened loudly, but not so much as to allow anyone other than Tealyr to hear, "What happened that night was my fault, not hers. You're never going to accept that, though, are you?"
Sighing with frustration, he shook his head and resumed staring her down, although his eyes eventually did lose the bitterness as they glared at her. At some points, her words almost made sense to him. Yet, at others, she seemed entirely strung up on the beliefs society had raised her to have.
He found it rather hard to believe that what he had done could ruin Rosencrantz's credibility. After all, he hadn't pushed Faithe into anything, they hadn't done anything more than kissing, neither of them had done anything wrong... save fall in love with someone that society told them they shouldn't. If he had been a student there, no one would have had such a fit that a seventh year was going out with a fourth year; there might have been some casual childish teasing, but certainly no major reprimands from the staff. Three years of age wasn't so bad... unless the two people whose relationship was in question were from different sides of that line.
'But,' the man wondered, 'since when is falling in love such a heinous crime?'
He considered vocalizing that thought, but knew better than to use something so idealistic in an argument with Tealyr Montague...
Sighing, he took a step towards her, with a countenance that almost looked as though he was trying to make some sort of peace treaty with the woman.
"As I said, Tealyr, no one, except you now, knows..."
"Stop fooling yourself, Orlando!" Tealyr retorted, "Don't tell me to accept anything--you need to accept that, yes, she is a whore! And regardless of what you wanted, the fact is that she made no effort whatsoever to try to prevent the whole fiasco that ensued after the two of you..." Here she stopped, restraining the word that had been on the tip of her tongue, "...were together."
She watched him carefully, about to sigh with relief as she saw a change in his expression. However, she knew it was too good to be true, and grit her teeth as he stepped forward. She inhaled from her cigarette and, for a moment, was tempted to blow smoke in his face--but decided against it and turned her head to the side as she exhaled.
"And it's obvious you're expecting me to do you this little favor," Tealyr snarled, "and keep this knowledge to myself. I suppose you think that is is just supposed to be okay with me. Is that what you want? Do you want me to risk my own neck just so you can keep yours nuzzling with that pretentious little brainchild's?"
Shooting him a look of loathing, she tossed her head and glanced out at the ocean once again. She informed firmly, not looking at him, "I don't think so..."
If Orlando had ever wondered why exactly he and Tealyr had gone there separate ways, he was just reminded. Demeter was a touchy subject with Orlando in general, especially since the man blamed himself completely for the consequences of that night, and Tealyr's contradictory opinion never fared well with him.
"Prevent the whole fiasco?" Orlando repeated, so bitterly that one might have thought him possessed if they knew him at all. "And how was she supposed to do that, Tealyr?" His voice was louder now, almost to the point where someone else might have heard it, yet not been able to make out the words. Taking a step towards Tealyr, Orlando flung his hands up in frustration, yet his overall demeanor was still burning with anger.
"She was nineteen! Young, stupid, naive, trusting... innocent."
With each further adjective, the rage in his voice died away and was replaced with guilt and remorse.
"I took that away from her, Tealyr, and I can't ever give it back..." he said quietly, voice now barely above a whisper. "So don't even start to tell me that it was her fault."
"And it's obvious you're expecting me to do you this little favor" Although Tealyr had been rather dead-on with most of her words so far that evening (save the Demeter remarks), that was where she was wrong. At this point, Orlando truly couldn't care less about what happened to him. His credibility was nice, but Tealyr seemed to care a lot more about Rosencrantz' s credibility than he did.
His life was sort of a dream at the moment. He'd lost Faithe, and for what? He didn't even understand why she'd left him. It wasn't as though her leaving would prevent Tealyr from telling. For a moment, the man considered telling Tealyr to go ahead and tell her mother, because he'd already lost his life. But, what would happen to Faithe if such a scandalous affair erupted? Her life would be ruined, because of him. Whatever feelings of malice the man had towards the young woman a cause of not understanding her actions, he wouldn't wish any harm upon her.
"No," he replied, although the word came out as more of a choked gasp. "I've already lost her...
"I want you to realize that I'm a rather desperate man at the moment and that if you want to say something that'll ruin Faithe's life, then I might be tempted to take out my wand and modify your memory a bit."
Tealyr's expression hardened, her resentment now back in full force. "I dare you to try it," Tealyr hissed, "If you even -point- your wand at me, then I 'might be tempted' to shove it up your ass."
Still, she did take two steps away from him, eyeing him suspiciously. Her hand slid up to her pocket where he wand lay. The last thing she needed was to get into a duel with another Professor. She shook her head slightly, staring at Orlando as if he was some unsettling stranger- someone that she hadn't really known at all.
"Innocent?" she repeated incredulously. "Innocent?! Hardly! She was a dirty little slut! She just couldn't wait to let you get in her pants! And because of her 'fun and free' ways, she put you through a hell of a lot that you shouldn't have had to deal with!"
This was all too familiar. Hadn't they yelled these same things back and forth at each other, only a short time ago? Weren't these same words spoken, these same insults said? It was sad, really. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
"I warned you. I warned you from the moment you told me that you were attracted to her. I knew that she was trouble and you didn't listen to me! To me, of all people! I had your best interests at heart, and you didn't think that was good enough!" Tealyr exclaimed. She hadn't realized how strong her hurt and frustration from all that time ago could still be. "Now look at you! You are still senseless! You are still a fool!
"You fell in love. You fell in love. You know, Orlando, for something that is supposedly 'so right', you have all the wrong reasons."
((*grins, squeals* I am [I]so[/I] proud of this post!!!!))
Listening to the woman speak, Orlando went silent- eerily silent. His face adopted a chilling vacant expression; the skin seemed to hang off of his face, his lips slumped as if they had no muscles within them, and his eyes were as though they were made of glass. He looked desperate, but almost in a state of shock- as though he didn't know what was going on around him. Or, perhaps did know what was going on around him, and thus was his reason for appearing as such. He remained like that as she stepped back from him and put her hand to her wand. Although he had seen her do so, his expression wouldn't have given that away- it looked as though the man was in a trance of sorts. paralyzed.
Throughout her incessant torrent of snide remarks about Demeter, too, the man remained frozen, physically, though his mind was churning. This scene was all too familiar. The setting may have varied, but the actors, their roles, emotions and dialogue all remained hauntingly unchanged. Tealyr was still living under the assumption that Orlando had been infallible, that it had been Demeter to spark the incident and the repercussions it brought her fault alone.
"[I]Dirty little slut. put you through hell. I knew. you didn't listen to me. look at you. still a fool. you fell in love. all the wrong reasons.[/I]"
Broken fragments of Tealyr's words resonated through the man's mind, echoing off the walls of his cranium and bouncing back, their nagging message louder and louder each time. '[I]Shut up, shut up, shut up![/I]' his mind shouted, unable to take anymore, but the violent diatribe was inexorable.
For a moment, it seemed as though all hell was about to break loose. Orlando's mind was swarmed with thousands of pesky emotions and memories, clouding its perception and paralyzing whatever logic lay within his mind. His left hand reached into the back pocket of his jeans and procured the Maplewood shaft, adorned with a single unicorn hair, which lay there. Fingers trembling, they wrapped around it and held it down at his side. There passed a moment where Orlando's brilliant blue eyes darkened to a near navy color as he glanced first at the wand he held and then back to Tealyr as something foreign shone through in them- complete, genuine malice.
Within that moment, hundreds of hexes, curses and wicked incantations ran rampant through his mind- spells he had only read about in books, or news clippings about Lord Voldemort's fiendish deeds. Within that moment, the man wanted nothing more than to avenge Demeter, to avenge Faithe and to forever silence the twisted part of his conscious embodied in Tealyr Soleil Montague. A simple three-syllable spell to silence her endless affronts, an uncomplicated single-utterance incantation to remove the vision of Faithe and himself from her mind, and an impassioned two-word curse to end the torment the irksome bit of truth in her words brought to him. Yet, in spite of that ardor burning inside of him, the man couldn't bring himself to commit any of the three crimes.
His fingers ceased to quaver upon the wooden rod and his mien softened in a sense as the anger within him melted into hurt and bewilderment. Tealyr's condescending reproof hadn't just been scolding him for his actions, it had been condemning him: stupid, foolish and ridiculously obsessed with the idea of love. She had a way of getting to him: her words sounded like those of his mother, yet, unlike Evelyn, Tealyr's words were spoken with Orlando in mind.
"[I].that you shouldn't have had to deal with.I had your best interests at heart.[/I]"
Not once had Tealyr ever outright blamed Orlando for anything; she had always seen him in a different light. It was always those around him who ought to be blamed for whatever misfortunes befell upon him, he was just too idealistic to see the way things were and it was she who was trying to help him realize such.
There were so many things floating about in Orlando's mind that he might have verbalized at that moment, yet, bemused and forlorn, the man's lips formed a single, quiet, yet coherent, response:
"Why do you insist upon acting like you still care about me?"
Completely and utterly confused, Jacques sat up straight. And at the realization of what her words meant, his face fell.
So she couldn't tell him. Well, that was fine, he guessed. Biting his lip, he studied Faithe worriedly. It pained him so, so much to see her like this. He didn't know what to do. She couldn't tell him... That was okay. Really. He frowned and slowly stood up, faltering.
Maybe, just once, he had hoped to be there for Faithe like she had been there for him.
He swallowed nervously. A hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He gave Faithe no immediate reply. Limply, he set the now-restored glass on the table where it had been and walked back into the bathroom.
Putting both hands on the sink, he leaned forward, glancing down the drain. Gray-blue eyes travelled down into that grimy abyss. The silence was killing him.
"Can I get you anything?" Jacques asked, doing a good job of keeping everything other than friendly concern out of his voice.
Tealyr was speechless.
Halfway through another furious reprimand, she stopped. Her mouth hung open slightly, all further reproofs quickly fading away. She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought, as if she hadn't heard what he told her correctly--but she knew exactly what she had heard. She blinked once, twice. Closing her mouth, she frowned and looked away.
And before she knew it, a tear had formed in one of her eyes. She blinked and it began to fall; embarrassed, she turned her back to him and wiped it as quickly as possible. Oh, this was just ridiculous. She didn't even know why she had started to 'tear up.' Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and looked down at what was left of the slender "cancer stick." She tossed it out into the water and turned back to look at Orlando ambiguously, throwing up her hands in a gesture of defeat.
"You're right," she said simply, "I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm wasting my time...and yours."
She walked, head bowed over to the stairs that led to the teacher and seventh year's cabins. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she did not look up, but spoke clearly enough for him to hear her. "I do care about you, Orlando...well, no, scratch that. You're right. I did. I don't anymore....not anymore..."
And with that, she sighed quietly, descending the stairs in silence.
How about a new life... Picking herself up off the ground, she stared bitterly at the suitcase with her clothes thrown carelessly inside. What was she going back to? A life she didn't want? Granted, her option was higher than that of her parents' idea, but still...not the life she wanted. The life she wanted was off arguing with Tealyr Montague. Of course, he was defending his ex-girlfriend more than their relationship, but Faithe didn't know that.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she stared at the glass that had been in shards moments before. Picking it up, her eyes took on a faraway expression. Tilting her head slightly, she ran her finger over the brim. The tears that had been falling had suddenly stopped as she became obsessed with the clear glass.
Slamming the glass down against the corner of the table, she watched as it shattered once more. Bending down, she picked up a rather large shard and stared at it.
"Tell me something Jacques..." Raising her voice loud enough so he could hear, she spoke with amazing calmness considering she had just been bawling her eyes out. "What does it feel like?" Taking the glass in her left hand, she turned over her right hand, staring down at her wrist.
"Does it bring that relief everybody says it does?" Tracing over one of her veins with the sharp end of the glass gently, her head tilted slightly.
Jacques flinched at the sound of the breaking glass, immediately looking out from the bathroom to see what had happened. He frowned at the sight of the broken glass--had she not wanted him to fix it? He stared as she picked up a piece.
Her questions were extremely unexpected...and quite unsettling. Jacques blinked, confused at first. "What do you..." After a moment, his expression changed to one of apprehension. No, that was an understatement. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. All of the color rose to his cheeks.
"Faithe...you...no..." was the only thing that came to mind. He stopped, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes fell. He could allow Faithe to do that...but what position did he have telling her not to, when he might as well have been an expert on the subject? Jacques shook his head slowly, eyes widening.
He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to retch. She knew...how did she...well, of course she did. It wasn't that hard to know that something was going on. He had scars...plenty of them... Putting a hand to the side of his face, he leaned his forehead against the doorframe, sighing and scrunching up his face in an effort to keep out the emotion that was threatening to overtake him. "No...you don't know...please, Faithe, please...please don't..."
Looking up at Jaqcues, her face remained the same, her eyes unblinking. He had no idea what she was going through. No idea whatsoever.
"I know I don't know Jacques, that's why I'm asking you. We've been friends for almost a year. I'm an Athena alumni, you of all people should know, I have observation skills. So, tell me." Looking back down, she moved the glass to the base of her wrist, her eyes glancing back up at him. "Does it help?"
She needed some way to take out her anger, her pain, and her frustration. This seemed the easiest way. Faithe could never hurt anybody else, it wasn't in her. Herself, though a thought that had never occured to her, was a different story. She's put herself in enough messes, and was tired of dealing with them.
"No, Faithe, no, it doesn't!" Jacques said frustratedly, looking up and taking a step away from the door frame. The emotion had won. Angrily, he turned and walked back into the bathroom, punching the mirror. He stepped out again and held up his hand, blood now trickling down it.
"Do you see this? This is what it's like! It's shooting yourself in the foot over and over again, being so strongly addicted to the sight of blood that anything, anything can trigger thoughts of harming yourself!" he paused, looking down at his hand again, "I can barely feel this. This is -nothing- to me. And I find it absolutely absurd that you would even suggest trying it!"
He stormed forth and attempted to pry the glass from her fingers. "Please, Faithe, don't," he pleaded, yet his voice remained firm, "I'm begging you. Once is not enough...once is never enough...I can't let you do this!"
Reverting to his chilling silence, Orlando simply tilted his head, watching the woman before him as she made it halfway through several actions. At first, she looked as though she was about to continue their shouting argument, but it passed. Then, she looked as though she might just say something, perhaps ask him to repeat his statement, although it was obvious she had heard him, but it passed. Finally, she turned away from him.
Almost sorrowful light blue eyes followed her as she turned away, and the man bit his bottom lip uncomfortably. He didn't like the fact that she had turned away from him- he couldn't see her eyes that way, and, if he couldn't see her eyes, he couldn't possibly know what she was thinking. As she turned back to him, though, he found that it hadn't been necessary for him to see her eyes in that moment she had been turned from him; the way in which her hand had wiped her face just then told him what he needed to know. After all that time filled exchanging bitter remarks, Orlando's had been the first to draw blood.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, if that's what he'd done. Of course, he presumed he had- Tealyr Montague wasn't one to cry easily. Part of him felt a sick sense of satisfaction- as though he'd given her what she'd been asking for. Another part of him, though, wanted to run over and take the woman- his friend- in his embrace and apologize for everything. But there was yet another part of him that prevented both things from occurring: the confused part.
What was happening? It was as though, in the last half-hour, everything Orlando had known to be true in the world had suddenly become false: Faithe didn't love him, Tealyr cared about him... Everything was turned upside- down.
Her soft words seem to hold a sense of defeat to them- something foreign to the woman's normally strong, confident voice- and Orlando's mien seemed to soften drastically, almost into an apologetic one. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what could be- or should be said, thus he remained silent.
Watching her as she retreated, his hand reached out absentmindedly, as though he could magically stop her by doing so. There was a nagging voice in his mind, telling him that, if he let her go, she would tell her mother about him and Faithe. But, looking at her, he knew otherwise. Something had happened to Tealyr Montague in the last three minutes that changed her, wounded her...
"I do care about you, Orlando...well, no, scratch that. You're right.
I did. I don't anymore....not anymore..." Hearing her hushed words, Orlando didn't know what to think, although it was undeniable that her words had prompted the man's breath to sort of catch in his chest. As aforementioned, everything that seemed right was wrong and everything wrong... right. Thus, he, too, resigned with a sigh and a wipe of his hand over his face.
"I'm sorry, Tealyr..." he whispered, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear.
Looking down as he lost his temper, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her body jumped as she heard the sound of the mirror cracking, her head shooting up. Watching him come closer to her in an attempt to take the glass from her, she shoved back. Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she stood up and backed against the wall.
"Stay away from me." Her voice was now shaky, scared that he would take her weapon away from her. Tightening her hand around the glass, she felt the side of the glass pierce her skin.
"So, what, Jacques? It's good enough for you, but not me? It's ok for you to take your problems out by mutilating your body, but not me? You have no idea what I'm going through." Not even aware of what she was doing, she dug the tip of the glass into her skin. Looking down, she pulled the glass up, watching as the blood trickled down the side of her wrist.
"It's not 'good' at all!" Jacques yelled back, "It's horrible--disgusting-- vile! It weakens you...it makes you a slave to your own negative emotions...anything makes you want to cut! I can't even use a butter knife without thinking about hurting myself with it!"
He slowly, cautiously began to walk around to the other side of the bed, his eyes filled with desperation. They traveled down to the small stream of blood that had started to flow. "Stop it!" he cried, both pleading and demanding, "Faithe, please, stop! Don't do this...please, please don't do this...Of course I don't know what you're going through! I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! Maybe I would have some idea if you would just tell me!"
"Then why did you do it?" Yelling back, she looked back down, squeezing her eyes shut for a few moments before opening them. She felt sick to her stomach. Everything inside of her was churning and she felt as if she were going to be sick.
"I can't, Jacques." Her protest came out more like a whine than anything. Looking down, tears peaked at the corner of her eyes. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't..."
"I can't tell anybody." Dropping her eyes, she stared at the piece of glass in her hand. Faithe? What are you doing? This isn't like you. Her rational voice was trying to speak to her, but she shoved it aside. She was tire of being the rational one. Tired of being the calm, reserved one. Tired of holding everything inside of her.
Piercing her skin once more, she slid the piece of glass up a centimeter before lifting it up. It felt like a release. Swaying slightly, she leaned against the wall to support herself. "I just lost Rosencrantz the best Astronomy teacher its ever had."
Jacques went pale as he saw her cut herself once more. "I thought it would help!" he screamed, "And sure, it does for a while! You can make yourself forget anything if you want to! But after awhile it all comes back, and you realize what you've done, and you're worse off in the first place because not only do you still have the problem in the first place, but now you have a displacement of fluids that can make you go unconscious! Then you've got pain, pain, and only more pain!"
He would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to get the glass away from her. Thus, he advanced towards her again and tried to wrench the piece of glass from her fingers with more conviction, unconcerned as to whether to had to harm himself to do it. "Mr. Lorenz? You lost Mr. Lorenz?" he asked, bewildered, grunting occasionally as he attempted to get the glass from her, "What are you talking about?!"
Her own complexion was beginning to grow whiter as she stood there. Not so much because of the pain, because she was too numb at the moment to feel much of anything. It was as if the realization of what she was doing was slowly beginning to settle into her mind. Leaning against the wall, her eyes drifted up towards where Jacques was walking towards her.
Her irrationality was telling her to move, to get away from her. She needed this piece of glass right now, she was dwelling on it. Faithe was beginning to wake up, staring down at her arm as if seeing it for the first time. When Jacques approached her and made another grab for the piece of glass, she closed her eyes and let her hand fall down to her side. Giving up the piece of glass, she slid down to the floor and hugged her knees. Tears had once more begun to fall down her cheeks as she stared straight ahead, fixated on the bottom of the comforter of the nearest bed.
Something inside of her knew she could trust Jacques with what all was going on, but she was still holding back. Turning her wrist towards her, she rested her head on her knees and stared at what she had done to herself. Closing her eyes, she felt like she was going to be sick. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath.
"Jacques, since September, Orlando Lorenz and I have been seeing each other. We've kept from everybody...except tonight, Tealyr Montague spotted us." Speaking slowly and softly, her voice came out shakey still. Reaching up, she placed her hand on her forehead as she lifted her head off her knees. Her head bobbled forward for a moment as if she were going to faint, but she lifted it back up, keeping her eyes closed.
Jacques took the glass carefully, making sure he didn't slice his hand even more. He quickly walked over to the trash and dropped it in, still breathing rapidly from the commotion that had just happened. He hesitated for a moment, putting his unbloodied hand to his forehead. Opening his eyes, he walked into the bathroom and snatched up some washcloths from beside the sink.
He wet them and then wrung out the excess water as he listened to everything that Faithe was saying. Jacques' eyes widened and he glanced at Faithe hesitantly, but he knew her better than to make up some sort of story about this. Biting his lip, he scrambled through the drawers for some First Aid potion and found a small vial of it. He shook his head and walked back over to where Faithe was, kneeling down beside her and taking her wrist gently in one of his hands.
He was silent for a little while. Occasionally, he would glance up at her doubtfully, as if unsure that what he was hearing was real. Jacques cleaned up her wound--if she would let him--with the wet washcloths and gestured for her to press one of the washcloths on it while he went back into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
"Faithe," he said quietly, filling up a glass of water, "You know that...you know that I'm your friend, and I'll stick by you in whatever you do...and I'll think nothing less of you...but...I don't know what to say..."
His bare feet treaded the carpet as he walked back over to her and kneeled down beside her again. "Drink this," he instructed in his usual soft-spoken manner, "You need to replace the fluids you've lost..." Jacques lifted the washcloth and winced as he poured the healing potion over the cut, which smoked and stung but was the most effective healing potion known to wizardkind. The only thing left would be a scar. Biting his lip again, his silver-blue eyes looked up into hers doubtfully and he awkwardly stood up, finally turning his attentions to his wounded hand.
"I'm sorry about the punching the mirror," he apologized softly, blushing and averting his eyes from her, "I don't know what came over me...I can be so stupid sometimes..."
Watching him carefully, Faithe expected him to get angry and run out of the room. Slightly surprised that he did neither, she swallowed a hard lump down her throat. Wincing as the wet washcloth touched her skin, her entire arm jumped slightly at the stinging sensation. Biting her bottom lip, a small whimper escaped her throat.
Looking up at him as he spoke, she released a grief filled sigh. "Jacques..." Biting her lip, she looked away from him for a few moments before looking back at him. "Remember that night we met? You were asking me about the comet he had discovered? The truth is...it was sort of named after me. I hated to lie to you, but I couldn't tell you." Taking the glass from him, she sipped on it slowly.
Her body was still trembling slightly, and her head still spinning, but she was beginning to gain a better grasp on herself. Even though she felt like everything she had eaten the past day was about to come up any minute, the water helped choke it all back down. Staring apprehensively at the smoking potion, she started inching her body away, not liking the look of the potion.
When he poured the potion over her wrist, a small cry escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally opened her eyes. Had tears not already been forming in her eyes, they certainly would have by now. A small tear fell down her left cheek as she watched him stand up.
"Jacques, you aren't stupid. I put you in a bad position, and I'm sorry. That was my fault. All this is my fault..." Looking down, she released another sigh as she rested her elbow on her knee, and rested her forehead on the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry I dredged up something so unpleasant for you. I was being selfish. To be honest, I thought you had stopped and all those scars were just from a long time ago." Sitting up straight, she looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Jacques, what is going on?"
Wiping the blood from his knuckles, Jacques hesitated. It pained him greatly to listen to Faithe's cries and for a moment he doubted if he had done the right thing. However, he realized that he had indeed done what should've been done and she might've been worse off had the wound not been cleaned, sterilized, and healed properly. He gathered up the washcloths with his wand and levitated them into the sink, magically turning on the faucet so that the red substance would be rinsed out. Leaving bloody cloths around the room would definitely draw suspicion.
"You don't need to apologize--I understand...completely...It's alright...we both were keeping our respective secrets, I guess." He paused and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking the healing potion and pouring it on himself. More silence ensued as he grimaced in pain. Once the concoction had taken its toll, he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
Part of him wanted to play it off. Part of him wanted to latch onto his secret, his unknown addiction. He had longed for the courage to share things with someone all this time...and now that he had the opportunity, it was harder than he had imagined.
"I've...I haven't stopped, alright?" he said quickly, his words coming out in a frenzy, almost as if he was being accused of some crime and admitting to it. Realizing how resentful his words sounded, he lessened his tone. "I've been doing it for about six or seven months now...I haven't been able to even make an effort to stop...It's just too...I need it too much. It makes me feel good...to think that...that this is my revenge, sort of. This is how I can forget things. But it's...it's everything I said to you..."
He forcefully started to wipe this eyes, tearing his glasses off and making a futile attempt to stop the tears that insisted on coming. "I thought...I thought that if people knew, then...then they would think less of me...I thought if you knew...you might see me as weak...and I know it's bad, I've realized that...but I can't stop it...I'm not strong enough...I'm just...I'm just incompetent..."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he near-whispered, looking at her now, "I'm sorry that...you have to go through everything that you're going through...You and Mr. Lorenz, and that awful Montague...and you have to listen to me and my whining, and see me like this...I'm so stupid...It's not right, Faithe...you're great, and you shouldn't have to go through all of this...me, on the other hand...I'm not so sure..."
Keeping her eyes on him as best she could, there were a few moments when Faithe had to close her eyes and lean her head back to keep from fainting. Taking a deep breath, she scooted up the wall to a standing position and walked slowly towards the bed where he was sitting. Sitting down next to him, she placed both of her hands on the edge of the bed and leaned forward slightly, closing her eyes.
Listening to him speak, a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt guilty more than anything else. Her mouth had upset many people, particularly two of the closest people she had to her. Opening her eyes, she kept her focus on the floor, too ashamed to face him. She'd had no idea he was still doing this to himself, and if she had, she certainly wouldn't have said a lot of the things she did.
Finally forcing herself to look at him, she reached over and took his hand in hers, "Jacques, you are not stupid or incompetant. And you're certainly stronger than that. You don't need to hurt yourself like that. I know I'm not in much of a position to talk right now, but..." Letting go of his hand, she sighed and laid back on the bed. Resting the back of her hand on her forehead, she swallowed another lump in her throat.
"It's not just the thing with Orlando. I don't know...I guess everything just came crashing down on me tonight. I'm just so tired of everybody's expecatations of me. I'm tired of being 'perfect' Faithe. Everybody expects so much of me, and I've spent the past eight years doing what other people want me to do rather than what I want to do." Turning over on her side, she stared at the dresser in front of the bed.
"Jacques, you don't deserve bad things. Nobody does. We all screw up and make mistakes, that doesn't mean we deserve bad things. You're wonderful." Reaching out, she squeezed his arm lightly.
"Most people would have walked out on me tonight, but you didn't. To be honest, I'm surprised you can still bear to look at me." Looking up at him from her position, there was almost a look of doubt on her face. She truly expected him to completely shun her and leave. "I know it isn't considered good morale to be dating a teacher..."
"But I don't think that will be a problem after tonight. I'd be surprised if he ever even wanted to look at me again."
Sniffing, Jacques wiped his eyes once more. He blushed as she took his hand, but looked at her and listened to everything she said in earnest. A sigh drifted from his lips as his eyes traveled elsewhere. He wanted to believe what she was saying about him so badly, but yet...he just couldn't bring himself to accept it...
He nodded slowly as Faithe detailed her problems. He could understand, somewhat, her point of view, even if he had never really had anyone expect demanding things of him. It tore him apart to see her go through this. Faithe was pretty much the only person who hadn't walked out on him.
"Of course I can still bear to look at you," he replied quietly, slightly puzzled as to why he wouldn't be able to. "I would...I would never walk out on you, Faithe. You're...you're all I've got in regards to friends." He said the last part bitterly and somewhat hurriedly, casting his eyes downward and curling his lip slightly. After a moment, he glanced up at her again and continued.
"I mean, you love him...It's not like he's sixty-five or anything...I don't think that it would've been any different if you would've met him outside of school...It could be worse...." he trailed off, and then tilted his head slightly. "Why do you think he won't want to look at you? You said that Montague saw you...it's not like you told on him or anything...that's not anyone's fault...especially not yours..."
"A lot of people look up to you Jacques. I don't know how you don't see that." Sitting up, she groaned as her hand rested on her stomach. On the verge of puking, she moved her hand from her stomach to her mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick..."
Laying back down, she took a deep breath. Never one to have a high tolerance of pain, or to have a strong stomach, she feared getting sick. If it happened once, she had a tendancy to remain sick for some time.
"I do love him, but he doesn't believe that anymore. I told him that...that I was leaving. I didn't want to cost him his job, and so I told Tealyr Montague that I would be leaving tonight, and neither of them would hear from me again. And I meant it..." Rubbing her eyes, she stood up, rushing towards the bathroom.
Slamming the door shut behind her, she fell to her knees, resting her head on the toilet seat. Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes groaning.
Frowning, Jacques watched her worriedly. His eyes widened as she rushed to the bathroom and he hesitated before going over to the door and rapping on it.
"Er...Faithe? Faithe, are you okay?"
Feeling the wave of nausea pass, she sat back against the wall. Pulling her ponytail off her neck, she sat there for a few moments in the silence. Finally forcing herself on her feet, she walked over to the door and opened it. Leaning against the door frame, she nodded.
"Fine." Swallowing, she looked at him intently. Despite the look in her eyes that said 'I'm going to be sick' there was a concerned expression in her eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Jacques waited patiently outside of the bathroom, resisting the urge to throw open the door and make sure she was alright. Seeing her exit, he took a step back to give her some room. "Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly and distractedly.
Sighing, he went back and took a seat on his bed. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?" he inquired softly.
Following him, only a bit slower, she sat down on his bed. Stretching out on her side so she could face him, she studied him intently.
"Yes, you can get me something. The truth."
Jacques furrowed his brows slightly. He asked, with a bit of apprehension, "What do you mean?"
Faithe knew she was treading on dangerous waters with him right now, but she figured of all times, now would be the time to do it.
"Something had to have pushed you to the point of hurting yourself. What was it?"
Jacques stared at Faithe sorrowfully for a moment, with an almost stricken expression, one that asked Why are you asking me this? However, he couldn't bring himself to disregard her quiery.
He began quietly, "It wasn't just one thing. It was a whole bunch of things, actually. I mean, I didn't grab my knife one night and suddenly decide to cut myself. Okay, that's a lie...I actually kind of did. But it was more like all of these negative things, they've been building up inside of me...it was like a dam burst."
Sighing, he picked at the cover on the bed absentmindedly. He was still blushing, embarrassed by his actions and thinking that saying all this must've tainted him in her eyes. "People...I talked to you about people...I hate people," he muttered, "I hate bigots and idiots...ugh...and imbeciles who think that they're in some divine position to judge you..."
He trailed off, shaking his head.
For a moment, Faithe thought he was going to get angry with her. Then again, she wouldn't have blamed him had he lashed out at her verbally. An almost apprehensive expression crossed her face, but softened when her spoke. Listening to him speak, she gradually sat up, her motions rather slow.
"Jacques, I feel like there's something you aren't telling me." Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gently squeezing it.
"I'm not here to judge you. I just want to be able to help you. You're an amazing friend, and I don't want to push you into telling me anything. I just...I want to know what set all this off."
Jacques glanced away. "I'm just...I'm tired of my life..." he said in earnest. That sounded extremely melodramatic even to his own ears, and he was blushing for the third or fourth time that evening. He shook his head slightly, very, very embarrassed.
"It's exasperating...having people pick on you...and having this stupid reputation that you don't even want...I'm sure you know about that..." he continued, not making eye contact with Faithe. He stopped and shook his head again, looking at Faithe now and blushing even more. "What am I saying...here I am, dumping out all my problems to you...and you just went through the breakup of the century..."
He put his hands to his forehead and stood up, pacing a bit. "I'm sorry...I can be so, so stupid sometimes..."
Tilting her head as she listened to him, Faithe fought the urge to hug him. She had gone through those times where she felt desolate, but she had simply buried herself in more school work to forget about it. Shaking her head, she lowered her eyes.
"No, if you have a problem, I'm here for you no matter what. People break up all the time. That whole thing was about everything going wrong..." Looking up as he stood up, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as he called himself stupid, again.
Reaching out, she grabbed his hand as he passed by her in an attempt to stop him.
"Jacques, you are not stupid. Listen, what is so wrong with having a reputation of being one of the most intellegant students in the school? Yes, it brings teasing and torment, but who's going to be better off in the end? If they aren't willing to get to know you, and see how wonderful of a friend you are, then they don't deserve your friendship."
((Brandi, I hope it's alright that I kind of made up some stuff about Orlando and Tealyr's past. If you don't like something, lemme know and I'll change it))
[I]"And then there was one."[/I]
Alone upon the promenade deck, Orlando Lorenz felt more alone and more confused than he'd ever been in his life. There was no one around him, but that wasn't what made the man feel so terribly isolated, it was more the fact that he had been on the SS Ecstasy for not much more than an hour and already, somehow, the entire cruise was ruined. Faithe had abandoned him. Tealyr had abandoned him. The world had abandoned him.
He didn't walk to the railing, nor did he sit upon the deck bench within three feet of him. Instead, the twenty-two year old just stood there upon the deck, as though he was frozen to the spot by some invisible force. Every now and then, a gentle zephyr would blow, breaking the calm night air and ruffling the man's hair a bit; every now and then, the man's eyes would close and he'd imagine that it was Faithe's hand playing with his dark locks.
Letting out a sigh, the man finally gave a sign of life: his head leaned back as he cast his eyes to the sky. A thousand glorious stars dotted the blackness, giving it a sort of phantasmagoric sparkle. Among those stars lay the Holloway Comet, who, at the moment, was just passing through the constellation Libra: the scale, the balance, the equalizer. Perhaps it was a sign that Orlando was just getting what he deserved.
But for what was he being punished? For falling in love with Faithe? Or, did it go back further? Perhaps he was being reprimanded for Demeter, and what being with her had done to not only Demeter herself, but to Tealyr. Since the first day of Rosencrantz until the infamous "morning after", she'd really been the man's first true friend. She had always been there to listen to him, and he had done the same for her. They'd cared about each other, watched over the other, helped them. There hadn't ever been a time Orlando could remember not coming to Tealyr first about anything- and she'd always been there. Whatever it was, he had known he could tell her. True, he had never told her his deepest, darkest secrets, but he hadn't told those to anybody (at the time), and, had he, she would have been the first to know.
She was, after all, the first (and, for the most part, only) to know everything about Orlando's life in all seven of their years at Rosencrantz together. He told her everything from having received an "E" on his Potions OWL and how he'd given ten points to a nice Iris third year who'd held the library door for him to his suspicion that the Astronomy teacher didn't exactly know the difference between a spiral and a conical galaxy and his growing admiration of various Rosencrantz girls. including one such Demeter Elisabeth Lawrance.
It had been at the mention of her name when he'd first felt uncomfortable with Tealyr. Her face had contorted itself and her mouth had done the same. She hadn't liked Demeter much evidently, and had warned Orlando to stay away from the Nike, advising him that she was bad news. He hadn't listened, though. It had been the only piece of Tealyr's advice he'd never followed, and, consequently, the one thing that haunted him to this day. After he and Demeter had begun seeing each other, he had, foolishly, given up his friendships. Although it began as just seeing the other young woman during the few inter-house classes they shared and perhaps an hour or so every Friday night, it wasn't more than a month later that nearly every waking moment of Orlando's was spent with Demeter, save the few where he had to remain within the walls of Athena, and it was only then when he would allow Tealyr some time with him. It was also then when their relationship began to hit rocks. Every conversation held scornful remarks concerning Demeter, and how Orlando really ought to get away from her now, before something happened. Too infatuated, and in love, with the young woman, he hadn't listened.
Then after school, after the post-graduation summer, after a year of schooling up at Cepheus, and after not speaking to her for all that time, Orlando had sent an owl to Tealyr Soleil Montague, informing her of what had happened the past night and asking her for help. But the sort of help she offered wasn't what he was looking for, and, soon, he'd lost the friend he had once treasured above all else in the world forever. Certainly such a grave error ought to be punished, yet taking Faithe from him didn't seem like a corresponding castigation.
Swallowing at the thought of his pristine angel, Orlando ran a hand over his face, sighing with frustration as he wondered what had happened there. He still didn't understand how things had turned themselves around so quickly. She was gone. Why, though? Then again, it didn't really matter, because the fact of the matter was that he'd let her go. More than that, he'd [I]told[/I] her to go. Again, he asked himself "Why?"
There he was, standing upon the deck, wishing for her to reappear just so he could hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, yet, moments earlier, he had told her to go. True, he had been caught off guard and hurt by her threatening to leave- especially doing so in a manner that hinted that she didn't have even the slightest problem with leaving him- but why had he allowed spite to overcome him to the point where he told Faithe to leave? He didn't know.
Letting out another sigh, an idea came to the man. Slowly, he began walking along the deck, casually running his hand absentmindedly along the railing until he reached his destination: the ship's office. Wandering inside the open door frame, he knocked lightly upon it to announce his arrival to the receptionist.
"Could you please tell me Isabelle Cunningham's room number? She just graduated from Rosencrantz Academy this past spring."
"We have a strict policy about..."
"I'm a Professor there," Orlando replied quickly, "I need to speak with her concerning an urgent opportunity for her post-Rosencrantz life."
"Can't it wait until morning, sir? I'm sure you can speak with her about it during breakfast."
"It needs to be taken care of right now."
The receptionist finally gave in as she looked at him through pursed lips over the top of her paperback novel. "Fine..." She told him her room number and he smiled gratefully.
Walking down the deck, the man noticed he was nearly shaking. And then, as he raised his hand to knock upon the door, he found that he couldn't. What if she didn't want to see him? What if she had been serious about leaving? What if she was already gone?
Shaking his head, the man took a deep breath and knocked upon the door several times.
"But Faithe," he sighed, turning to face her, "I don't want to be 'one of the most' anything! I just want people to leave me alone...Even some of the other Athenas don't like me! It's not like I asked to be Prefect..."
He slid his hand out of her grasp and slowly backed up against the door, leaning on it and losing his eyes frustratedly. "When I was younger, I was invisible. Nobody except my father paid me any attention. Then the school told me I was intelligent, and the whole world was against me...I thought it would be better at Rosencrantz, but it's not, it never--"
A sudden knocking from the other side of the door startled him greatly, causing him to flinch and quickly take a step back from the door. He was an absolute bundle of nerves. Shaking his head, he turned his trembling frame towards the door and peeked through the little glass hole in the door. His eyes widened and he stared at Faithe, mouthing nervously, "It's Lorenz...what should I do?"
Opening her mouth to speak to Jacques, she closed it sharply at the sound of knocking. Swallowing with difficulty, she closed her eyes as Jacques peaked out the eye hole. It was either Orlando, Tealyr, or the Headmistresses. Opening her eyes, she caught his eyes as he looked at her. Taking a shakey breath, she sat there for a moment, staring at her hands.
After a few moments of awkward silence, she stood up. Grabbing an oversized sweatshirt, she threw it on over her shirt. She had a feeling he was angry enough at her without adding another factor the the whole thing. The sweater had always been a favorite of hers because the sleeves fell to just past her fingertips;however, tonight she was thankful for the shirt.
Stepping up next to Jacques, she laid her hand on the doorknob. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to will herself to turn hte knob. Looking up at Jacques, there was a look of defeat in her eyes.
"I can't do this...can I?"
"I don't know," Jacques whispered, crossing his arms anxiously over his shirt. He had failed to notice the little red splatters on it. He peered at the door cautiously. "I could answer it...tell them that you're not feeling well...no, that might raise awkward questions...ugh..."
Jacques took a step back. "Do you want me to...er...hide in the closet or something? Leave? I don't mind..."
Sighing, she shook her head. "No. We aren't doing anything. You have no reason to hide because we don't have anything to hide." Looking at him for a few more silent moments, she finally turned her gaze back towards the door. Turning the knob, she opened the door, biting her bottom lip.
At the sight of him, Faithe's breath caught in her throat. Swallowing, she stepped aside so he could come in, assuming that's why he was here.
Allowing the final knock to resounate through the silent, nighttime air, Orlando let his fingers relax as he dropped his hand to his side. All he could do was wait... and allow thoughts and crazy scenarios to plague his mind.
How could he have done that? Told her to leave, that was. She must have thought he didn't care about her. After all, wasn't that was telling her to basically "get lost" implied? Sure, she may have brought it up, but he told her it was a good idea. He hadn't said "if that's what you want"- that would be forgivable; he had told her it was a good idea, implying that he wanted her to leave. Why had he done such a stupid thing?
Noticing how the door still remained closed, Orlando leaned his head back, casting his eyes to the sky as he let out a sound that was a mixed of a sob and a sigh. He didn't bother to logic anything out at that point in time; his mind told him that she'd already left. Faithe Cunningham was gone from his life forever, and it was because he had told her to leave.
Pursing his lips together, tears appeared in his eyes, intensifying the brilliant blue color of them, and a feeling of utter despair that he hadn't felt for two years exactly came down upon him. Once more, he found himself alone, and he didn't know why.
Walking back to the door, he raised his hand to knock again, yet all it did was fall softly upon the door and run down, followed by the man's eyes. Shaking his head as he looked at the ground, he bit his lip. There was no use in waiting any longer; she had gone.
As he turned, the man absentmindedly placed his hands in his pockets, only to have his fingers feel a familiar velvet box bumping gently against them- what significance that box holds should be obvious to the reader. It was at that point when the man let out a hushed, choking sob and wiped his hand down his face, ridding himself of the few tears that had fallen.
It seemed like everything was lost to him just then, as if he'd been living his life wrong all along- as if his time at Rosencrantz had been nothing and he was still the same old worthless little boy he had been in Ewa Beach. No matter what he did, nothing would ever be as he desired; he would always, somehow, screw things up. He had ruined his family, stolen Demeter's innocence, lost Tealyr's friendship, and, now, destroyed whatever he had had with Faithe. Perhaps fate had only been toying with him again...
Then, when it seemed as if all hope was gone, the man heard a door open. Stopping in his tracks (he hadn't gone more than three paces from the door), his head looked over his shoulder and his lips pursed themselves together.
"Faithe..."
He breathed her name in a voice that was barely audible as he turned himself towards her, hands still in his pockets.
He had been so sure that she had left, but there she was. Above all, he was confused. The feelings and thoguhts he was experiencing had changed so much in the past ten minutes that he didn't know if he could trust himself. A part of him wanted to lift her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was, another part told him to turn around and never come back because she didn't want him anymore, another part advised him to simply stand there and let her speak first...
Taking another breath, he adverted his gaze from her. Eyes were the gateway to one's soul, and he didn't want her seeing anything at the moment. Slowly and silently, he walked through the door and turned around just inside to face her, yet his eyes looked just beyond hers, not into them.
"Is this a bad time?" he asked, with a foreign undercurrent of spite running through his voice as he gestured towards Jacques.
Jacques took a step back from the door uncomfortably. He didn't feel like he should be here. He didn't want to intrude upon their privacy, especially when dealing with such a delicate issue...but he didn't know where else to go. Lorenz was blocking the door and it wasn't like he could go back to his room--this was his room.
Upon hearing the Professor's words, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. He glanced towards Faithe, and then back at the Professor. As the insinuations behind Lorenz' words settled upon him, Jacques made an indignant, disbelieving noise. He was shocked...and speechless.
Faithe's eyebrows rose in surprise at the tone Orlando's voice took. After the shock of his meaning wore off, her eyebrows furrowed together in a look of pain. How many times did he plan on spitting spiteful comments in her face? Dropping her eyes to the floor, she crossed her arms, more for the comfort of hugging herself than anything.
Feeling slightly light headed, she made her way to her bed. Sitting down on it, she pulled her knees to her chest. She couldn't meet his eyes - she was scared of him. Did he come here to rag on her for losing him his job? Faithe knew he had to hate her by now, and she was terrified that he was about to tell her much.
Of course Orlando hadn't presumed what his words insinuated. He knew Jacques, and he knew Faithe better. Neither of them would do such a thing. So, why, one might ask, did he let such a scathing comment escape his lips? Certainly it wasn't in his character to do such a thing. It was a combination of the effect of the hurt and confusion he was feeling in the moment, if anything. He didn't want to appear as desperate as he was, and, so, almost like Demeter, he resorted to bitter remarks to portray such an image. It was better to appear unfeeling than to let Faithe see how much he needed her if she didn't want him the same way.
Then again, although it had seemed like a good idea, the second the words left his mouth Orlando was regretful they had. Pursing his lips together, he gnawed nervously on his tongue, watching Faithe seem to shrivel before him, cowering in fear of him. So overwhelmed by this was he that he took no notice of Jacques. Faithe was afraid of him, and that stuck the man down as nothing ever had before. The inner conflict brewing within him was horrible.
He loved her, but with everything going on, he didn't know if she still loved him... or, for that matter, had ever loved him. The words of Tealyr, his parents and Faithe herself all played through his mind, changing his thoughts incessantly. He wanted everything to be like it had been before Tealyr had come in and ruined it all. Then again, if he hadn't been so foolish, she wouldn't have been able to. It had been he who was at fault.
Closing his eyes for a moment, the man's hardened mien softened as he ran his hand down his face, turning his head to the side to a moment just to save himself from having to look at either Jacques or Faithe. Now he was embarrassed for having said such a thing. It wasn't like him, and he knew it.
"That was uncalled for..." he stated quietly, apologizing in a sense for his comment.
Turning back to them, he breathed in quietly and stepped away from the door, thereby leaving Jacques an exit should he desire to utilize it. Truly, he sort of hoped Jacques would leave; the less people who knew about him and Faithe, the better. But, if he wouldn't leave, Orlando wouldn't ask him to.
Sighing, he cast his eyes upon Faithe.
"Do you love me?"
Looking up at him, a pained look of incredulity crossed her face. Despite the fact that she still felt like every food item she'd eaten was about to revisit her, Faithe stood up and walked over to him.
"How can you ask me that Orlando?" Crossing her arms across her chest, her gaze fell to the floor. Was this why he'd come here? To toy with her emotions? How could he doubt her feelings for him? If she didn't love him, would she have stuck around after he walked in on him jamming his tongue down his ex-girlfriend's throat? Taking a deep breath, she was very thankful that her last thought didn't come out verbally.
It did feel rather weird to be having this conversation in front of Jacques, but it wasn't as if he didn't know what was going on. Her eyes flitted across the floor, settling on the broken glass that was still on the ground.
Jacques eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them, his expression unreadable. What he could see was that neither of them wanted him to be there. He sighed, quite audibly, and snatched up his weathered copy of Plato's Republic off of the nightstand. The tension in the room was too thick. He couldn't breathe.
"I'll be back," he informed Faithe, not entirely suceeding in keeping his own voice free of anger. Shooting Lorenz a look of burning hatred, he made his way out of the door and down the corridor. He took the first available retreat, which happened to be the elevator, and slid down against the wall as the paneled doors closed. Closing his eyes, he removed his glasses and massaged his temple. This was too much...
Gnawing absentmindedly upon his tongue, Orlando met her gaze. The question was out now, and he no longer had a reason to hide his vulnerability. It had shown through in his voice, and would certainly be visible in his eyes just then. His heart was in her hands; he loved her, and he needed her, but he wasn't sure she felt the same anymore.
"How can you ask me that Orlando?" How could he ask her that? How could he not? After everything they'd been through and shared, she had been the one to put a rift in their relationship the second Tealyr had entered their world. It was as though whatever feelings she had weren't strong enough to survive something trying, but they had already done so so many times. Why, then? Perhaps she was ashamed of him, or embarrassed to be with him in front of anyone save Jake and Kaytlin.
'Who wouldn't be, though?' he asked himself as feelings of worthlessness flooded his mind, recalling the very feelings he had been unable to escape as a boy. He wasn't good-looking (in his opinion, of course; the author, on the other hand, finds him to be an irrestiably sexy), and didn't have too much going for him other than his intelligence, which could really be taken as a disadvantage as well.
"Because I don't know, Faithe," he replied in a tone that was flooded with pleading, hurt and, most of all, confusion.
"I don't want you to leave, but I'm not going to ask you to stay if you don't feel about me how I feel about you..."
He trailed off there into inaudibility, although the rest of his words had been barely audible themselves. They were a sort of whisper, but were more distinct.
Slightly taken back at the tone in Jacques voice as he left, an apologetic expression crossed her face. She felt so bad for him. He had just seen her through one of the scariest moments in her life, and now she knew he had to feel as if he were being kicked to the curb. She would find him later and talk to him - he didn't deserve to be pushed out like this.
Turning back to Orlando, her eyes filled with tears at his insinuation that she didn't want to be with him. After everything they had been through, she didn't want to be with anybody else. She couldn'tbe with anybody else. Whether or not tonight was the last time she ever saw Orlando, and that very thought alone was enough to almost make her knees give out on her, she knew she could never care about anybody even nearly as deeply as she cared about Orlando.
The fact that he was doubting her, killed her. It was almost enough to tempt her to get rid of him and go back to finding that solstice she had found with cutting herself. How she had managed to lose her rationality to do something like that was still shocking to her. Knowing that she had found comfort in it, terrified her. Still more, the fact that she was considering picking it up again, almost made her sick. Pulling her gaze from the shattered glass, she looked back up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Orlando, you're my world." Speaking softly, her voice cracked as she fought back the urge to bust into sobs. Closing her eyes for amoment, she made an attempt to halt her tears, but to no avail.
"Do you hate me for possibly losing your job?" She had to know. So positive that he felt angry towards her, Faithe had to know just how much disdain he felt for her at the moment.
Seeing the tears overflow in Faithe's sorrowful brown eyes, Orlando felt an unswallowable lump appear in his throat. In that moment, he knew he'd hurt her. She loved him- her eyes told him so- and he felt absolutely terrible that he'd ever doubted such a thing. Then again, he had had reason to doubt, hadn't he? If she loved him, she wouldn't have acted like she hadn't, right?
No, that wasn't the case. Orlando knew from personal experience that sometimes, when emotions run high, things are said that aren't meant. He'd been guilty of such a crime just a few short minutes ago. What right did he have to hold something like that against her? None.
At her words, the man had nearly choked. All those fears of the whole saga having been no more than a dream, of Faithe not wanting him anymore... everything was wiped out in a reliving epiphany of sorts. Making a futile attempt to rid his throat of the lump, he swallowed, shutting his eyes as his did so, only to open them a few moments later. Gazing into Faithe's eyes, he did all he could to keep the few tears in his eyes from escaping, blinking a few times until their threat had passed.
"Then why are we--" he began with an almost laugh embedded in his voice, stopping speaking only because Faithe had started.
His job? Was all this truly about his job? Although it was no secret that Orlando adored his job and wouldn't trade it for any other in the world (well, maybe that last part was a bit of a secret), he wouldn't even have to think if he was ever forced to choose between it and Faithe. If he had to choose between anything and Faithe, she would always come first.
"Hate you?" he repeated incredulously, taking a few steps towards her. "Never, Faithe."
He hadn't planned on losing control, but as he got closer to her, he couldn't help but let himself slip. Everything was going to be alright now, it seemed.
Placing his hands upon her shoulders, his head tilted slightly as he shook his head at her, still trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"My job isn't worth losing you," he said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed upon hers as his hands slid down her arms around wrapped around her, linking their fingers together as they met upon her lower back.
"Nothing, Faithe, is worth losing you."
As he stepped towards her, her stance seemed to shrink. She was still expecting him to reprimand her. Hearing him speak in a tone that was different from how he had been speaking earlier, Faithe felt a little bit more comfort. If he were to yell at her, he would have done it already. Still, seeing him trying to hold in the emotions she could see through his eyes, caused her own lump to form.
Feeling his hands move from her shoulders down her arms, a large part of her wished that she could feel his skin on her arms. However, she knew that was impossible at the moment. As his arms wrapped around her waist, she took a step forward, mainly so there wouldn't be so much strain. Looking up at him, there was a slightly fearful expression on her face.
"So, I did lose you your job?" There was a melancholy note in her voice as her eyes dropped. Though he thought she was worth the loss of his job, Faith felt more guilt than she ever had in her life. It was because of her that he was now unemployed. How could he support himself now? Whatever happened to him from this point on was her fault.
"I'm so sorry Orlando."
Tilting his head inquisitively as her face took on an apprehensive look, Orlando's eyes narrowed slightly, wondering why she was still afraid. Her fear seemed to have lessened, at least; he could now allow himself to believe that she was no longer scared of him, which was much appreciated. And then, as she spoke, telling him the cause of her distress, the man couldn't help the small smile that played upon his lips. After all this, everything they'd gone through that evening, she still was worried about his job. And, more than that, worried that she had caused him to lose his job.
"Not at all," he replied quietly, "None of this is your fault, Faithe, and don't let yourself think any of it is, not even for a second."
Shaking his head, he pulled her closer to himself, untangling his fingers from each other in order to have a free hand. Reaching up, he laid this hand upon the back of her neck and gently guided her head to his shoulder, pressing her body tightly against his chest.
"Don't be sorry," he whispered into her ear before gently kissing the top of her head (or, if she was looking up at him then, her forehead), "Besides, nothing's been done and I don't think Tealyr's going to say anything. Not yet, anyways."
Seeing him smile, a perplexed expression crossed her face. Why was he smiling at her? She wasn't aware she had said anything funny. It wasn't until he started speaking that she realized that his smile was a good sign that he was still employed. Biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, Faithe allowed her head to be steered to his shoulder.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her body to melt into his. Tears were still falling down her cheeks, but she didn't even notice them anymore. Everything seemed as if it would be all right in the end. Orlando's here...of course everything's ok.
"She didn't believe me at all, did she?" Not that it mattered, but Faithe couldn't resist the urge to ask. It hadn't been her best performance, but she had been too emotional to think of a better explanation. Of course, Orlando running after her probably didn't help. Sighing, she buried her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.
Lifting her head, she slid her hand up and ran her fingers over his jawline. The sleeve of her sweater slid back, stopping just above where her first cut began. Keeping her eyes on his, she searched his eyes deeply.
"I love you."
Holding her close to him, feeling her arms around his waist, the sensation her breath induced upon his skin. Everything about the moment felt right. It was as though, once more, everything was how it should be, and those earlier moments of confusion and hurt had never transpired.
At her question, a smile crept up on the man's lips, which, in all actuality, was really more of a grin. Chuckling slightly, his hand toyed with the loose strands of hair below the tied ribbon, nonchalantly curling them around his fingers as he shook his head. "Not. At. All," he replied softy, with an almost jovial undertone in his voice.
"She knows-" pausing, the man corrected himself, yet still retained that nonchalant/jovial tone in his voice, not really realizing what he was saying, "[I]knew[/I] me to well to think I'd go along with something like that."
Another pause interrupted the conversational flow as Orlando thought. This certainly was the opportune time to tell her about his and Tealyr's past. After all, the young woman most definitely deserved to know, and she was sure to wonder exactly what had transpired between the two after she had retreated to her stateroom. Thinking about just what had happened, the man swallowed and blinked for a second before returning his gaze to Faithe. He had too much regard for her feelings to discuss the matter with her. Demeter had been a shaky topic before Manhattan, and, afterwards, considering they'd never discussed the matter in-depth, he was sure it was even more of an unstable conversation topic for the two. Thus, he chose to pass by that turnoff and continue along the road they were on- back to where they ought to be: together, in love, and happy.
Tilting his head towards her fingers in order to meet her gaze, Orlando smiled. Had his eyes not been completely fixated on hers, they might have wandered down. Yet, he was almost too afraid not to stare into her eyes just then, fearing she would further inquire about Tealyr. Then again, she would probably get around to doing so anyways.
"Mmm," he replied, smiling softly and still absentmindedly winding her hair around his fingers ever so often, "I love you, too, [I]ma Foi[/I]."
((Mmk, I was going to have him lean down to kiss her and then, while pulling back, see the cut, but I didn't want to have two major events going on "at once" so to speak. Just didn't want you to think I was ignoring that, 'cause I want him to see what she did, but wanted to leave you the opportunity to have her ask about Tealyr if you wanted to without getting all overwhelmed with plotishness. Oh, and pre-season camp is all this week, so, I'll do what I can, but don't expect much in the way of replies.))
A sort of pouty smile crossed her face as Orlando confirmed that Tealyr had not believed a word she said. Shrugging slightly, she sighed as her eyes fell to the ground. Staring at the carpet, her eyes blurred as her focus grew fuzzy. Shaking her head, she turned her head back up to look at him.
"Hence the reason Jake always came up with the lies, and I played them out. I'm not a good liar, unless I've had time to prepare for it. I was just desperate to turn the heat off of you, and it was the first thing that popped into my head." A half smirk crossed her face, but her eyes were still troubled. Faithe felt like she was hiding something from him. Well, she was hiding something from him. She didn't like how that felt though, but she was too scared to tell him. Realizing her sleeve had falled back some, she dropped her arm for a moment, allowing the sleeve to once again cover her hand. Reaching back up, she wrapped her arm around his neck. Her eyes halfway closed as she felt his hands in her hair, giving her the appearance of a cat when you found that special spot. Finally allowing her eyes to close when his soft voice had penetrated her heart, she rested her foreheard against his chin. Had she been taller, it might have been his forehead, but since Orlando was half a foot taller than Faithe, the chin was all she could reach.
"What happened after I left then?" Looking up at him, her eyes were back to being alert, as was her attention. "If you don't think she'll tell, then obviously something good happened." At least, that's what she hoped. He hadn't altered Montague's memory, because he said that she hadn't told yet.
Shaking his head at her recollection of her childhood (or so he presumed), Orlando offered a grin. He was a horrible liar as well; it was one of his many flaws. Then again, perhaps not being a good liar wasn't really a flaw; it proved his honesty.
"Eh," the man replied with a sort of shrug, "you're a good enough actress that you had me fooled enough at one point..." 'and it scared me more than I'll admit.' he finished mentally. It was true, though. Back on the deck, when she had declared that she was leaving and would never see either of them ever again, the resolve in her voice had almost made those words sound like the undeniable truth. In that moment, he'd found himself so lost, confused and positively bewildered that it seemed like he had known nothing about the young woman he had claimed to love.
In spite of those thoughts, Orlando's remark came off sounding like a light- hearted joke- exactly the way he wanted it to sound. Although he had always been reasonably open with Faithe before, the current situation left him feeling as if being completely open with Faithe would make him terribly vulnerable. And, sad to say, the man didn't feel comfortable trusting her like that... Not now, not after she'd actually seemed like she would just walk away from him. It was one thing to have her walk away and pretend that he didn't care too much, but if such a thing ever happened and she knew how much she still meant to him... Just the thought of letting someone get to him like that bothered him.
And, as all these thoughts were flashing through the man's mind, Faithe broke his pensive reverie by resting her forehead on his chin. He'd never really seen her as "short", (ater all, when one is 6' 1" tall, the vast majority of women are shorter than you) but the fact that she couldn't reach his forehead prompted the thought to enter his mind. "You're adorable," he chuckled quietly. "A little short, but adorable..."
Just as the worry about having to tell Faithe about Tealyr left Orlando's mind, her words revived it. Sighing quietly, he leaned his head back, taking her eyes out of his. He hadn't ever kept anything from her, and certainly didn't want to start now. He wanted to tell her everything, but somethings weren't exactly the best conversation material. Although she probably didn't, Orlando currently considered his relationship with Faithe wary; it wasn't as bad as it had been after Manhattan, but it wasn't exactly stable enough to withstand drudging up something that was, in his mind, worse than Manhattan had been.
Shaking his head, he rolled it around so that his eyes were looking at the ground ((hopefully... if Faithe was so close that he wouldn't have been looking at the ground, erm... disregard that and say that he simply looked at the ground to the side of him, as opposed to right in front of him)). Eventually, his head did lift itself back up and his eyes met hers again, although their true color was clouded, perhaps symbolizing something... ((Oooh))
"Yeah..." he replied, not really consciously. "Yeah, Tealyr and I, we talked, and I don't really know what happened, but something I said must've gotten to her, I guess..."
Biting her bottom lip, she turned away at his comment. I wasn't acting when I said that... Of course, there was no sense in vocalizing that thought. Faithe had been prepared to leave, in fact, she still had a boat waiting for her. Not because her feelings for Orlando had changed, but because she knew she couldn't be selfish with him if it would ruin everything he had worked for.
Gasping, she playfully slapped his shoulder. Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out. "I am not short...you're just tall." Muttering, she shot him a fake glare, a small smirk playing at her lips.
A wary expression crossed her face when he shifted his gaze from her. That wasn't normal, and something didn't feel right about it. Feeling apprehensive, she turned her head slightly as she looked at him intently. Her toe dug nervously into the carpet, part of her getting scared by his silence. When he finally did look up at her, she swallowed.
Staring at him, her body tense as he spoke, Faithe's lips rolled inwardly. He's never looked at me like that before.She wanted to believe him, she really did. However, something just wasn't clicking. Taking a step back, she allowed her arms to drop to her side.
"Orlando, what aren't you telling me?"
((Sorry for the load of dialogue at the end, but Orlando's verbose and all, so. *shrugs*))
[I]'As if she wouldn't catch on.[/I]' the man mused to himself. Orlando knew fully well that he was a horrible liar and, worse than that, couldn't make a summed up version of the truth sound any better than a lie, especially when he [I]did[/I] want her to know. The words that had come out of his mouth were indeed the truth, although they portrayed a rather shortened and unemotional version of it. He had left out the part where Tealyr and he got into the heated argument over Demeter, repeating the same insults back and forth at each other as though they were trapped in some sort of time warp and doomed to do so forever. He'd also casually left out how exactly he'd gotten to Tealyr. and the whole past between the two.
Once more, Orlando's eyes left Faithe's, staring past her left side as though there was something of the utmost interest on the stateroom wall. Another sigh passed through he lips and he shook his head again before returning his gaze to hers.
"A lot." he replied, almost in a remorseful tone. In fact, his voice resembled that of a normal little child who had been caught lying to his parents for the first time. He hated lying to Faithe, in any sense of the word. It felt wrong, above all else, and he knew it was only furthering the rift between the two. But to tell her what had happened would hurt her, and to tell her everything. Well, he didn't know how she'd take it- if she could take it at all. And, if she could, he didn't know if she'd stay with him.
The man knew that telling her about his past with Tealyr wouldn't be that difficult, but having to mention Demeter's name would lead the conversation somewhere he didn't want it to go. not with Faithe, nor anyone else. The guilt he felt was still, even after two years, unimaginable, and thinking of it almost made him feel unworthy of Faithe, like he was too heinous of a person to deserve someone as wonderful as her. Not only did speaking about her trudge up buried memories and feelings for Orlando, but he was also sure that it would revive the pain he'd caused Faithe in Manhattan.
If only he'd been strong enough to talk to her about it back then. He hadn't even tried to explain what had happened. Sure, he'd told her he didn't want Demeter anymore- and he didn't, not at the price she would come- but that was all. For all she knew, he'd [I]planned[/I] to meet Demeter in his hotel room, only come to Manhattan to meet with her. That wasn't how it'd happened at all, though. But Faithe didn't know that, she didn't know any of it, and it was because, by the time Orlando finally got her to speak with him, he wanted her back so badly that he didn't want to risk having her by talking to her about Demeter. Now that weak decision was coming back to haunt him. He'd have to talk to her about it sooner or later, or it would just keep getting harder and harder to bring up, and, with each moment that passed, withholding something from her would keep growing into a lie. Now, he was given another opportunity to tell her. but he didn't know if he could take it.
"Look. Faithe." he said quietly, and so unconfidently that his voice sounded foreign to his own ears, as he lifted his hand from his sides and then set them down again, "I'm sorry. I just."
As his voice echoed through his mind, it sounded so weak and pathetic. so unlike him. If there was one feeling in the world that could contort who the man was, it was guilt. So often had he felt that emotion growing up- not knowing what he'd done wrong to be hurt, but knowing that there had to be something he'd done to deserve it. As an adult, it had affected him as well, namely with Demeter, but, again, a little with Adhara, and now with Faithe. The feeling was so strong that it got the better of him, turning him into a babbling fool, incapable of forming complete or even coherent sentences.
Reaching out, he took her hand in his and led her slowly and silently over to the bed where he sat on the edge and weakly tugged at her arm, suggesting she ought to sit down as well. If he got the nerve up to actually say something to her, it would be better said if she were sitting down. ((Okay, I'm god-moding a bit, so I hope it's not too much of a problem that the rest of this post is written as though she [I]did[/I] sit down. I mean, I kinda presumed she would, so. yeah)) Dropping her hand, Orlando's elbows placed themselves onto his knees and he buried his face in his hands for a moment, exhaling loudly.
"Oh." A mix of a sigh and a groan escaped his lips, muffled by his hands, which still covered his face.
Sitting there, so close to her, he felt himself getting nervous- very nervous. He couldn't look at her- the guilt was too strong. It wasn't as though he'd actually done anything wrong, but, in Orlando's mind, just keeping his and Tealyr's past from her was wrong. Granted, there'd never been an opportune time to just casually say "Hey, Faithe, you know Professor Montague? Well, we used to be best friends until I slept with Demeter", but still.
Eventually the man managed to slide his hands down back to his lap, although his eyes still remained in his lap, staring at his hands fixatedly. Making a futile attempt to rid himself of the growing lump he felt in his throat, he swallowed. He wanted her to know, he just didn't want to have to tell her. If only there was a spell to jump to the future, maybe a week later. but there wasn't.
Slowly, he raised his head up. Yet, not being able to look at her, his eyes remained forward, gazing at the wall. He had an opportunity to tell her everything, and he might as well take advantage of it.
"Back, a long time ago, eight years, I think." he began. '[I]Wow, has it really been a whole eight years?[/I] ".when I'd first started at Rosencrantz, I met this girl. She was amazing, really. She was. so. so incredibly intelligent, so sympathetic, so understanding. She was the first person I'd ever known who wasn't. I don't know what she didn't have that everyone else seemed to, but she was my first friend."
Recalling Tealyr like that- how she used to be- reminded the man of just how much she'd meant to him. She'd brought good into his life- something that hadn't really been there before. When he was with her, he felt normal, accepted. like he didn't have anything to be ashamed of. Tealyr would joke around with him and she'd talk to him seriously; she was the first person that had done that- treated him as though he was normal. And now. he'd pushed her aside and she was no longer his friend.
"I could tell her anything, and she could do the same with me." he recalled sorrowfully, "And, by the time we were in our seventh year, we were such exceptionally close friends. but. it didn't last.
"See, there was this other girl. And she was just. strong, lively, beautiful, friendly, extraordinary. She was perfect, and I absolutely adored her. Of course, I told the other girl- my best friend- this. I mean, she was a girl herself, so I figured she ought to be able to help me out. but she didn't like the other girl much. I don't know why, but she told me to stay away from her, that she was 'bad news'.
"I didn't listen, though. Heh. I think that was the only advice of hers I didn't heed, and I think, in some twisted sense, it came back to haunt me, because, after I started seeing this other girl, the first one and I kind of drifted apart. We still talked, but it wasn't like before. And then, after graduation, I didn't even owl her once for an entire year. until I realized that I needed her still.
"See, I'd made."
Thusfar, Orlando'd done a remarkable job of not letting his emotions interfere with his recollection so much that he broke down, but now, recalling that night, and the morning after, they were beginning to display themselves. Tears were forming in his eyes and cascading down his cheeks, and, every so often, he'd have to pause to allow a breathy sob to pass through his lips. Still, though, he kept speaking; if he stopped for too long, he didn't think he'd ever start up again.
"I'd made the worst mistake I ever could have. This girl had trusted me with everything, her life. herself. everything. I was barely twenty then, and she was only nineteen. She was young- we both were.young and stupid, that is. But she. she was innocent. And that innocence. I took it away from her, and I can't ever give it back."
On that last sentence, his voice broke so that he was almost talking from his throat, breathing the words instead of actually speaking them.
"Tealyr. Tealyr, she didn't understand that it was all my fault. I was the one who had let things go so far. I was older, I was the man, and I should have stopped us. It wasn't her job; she was too naïve and trusting. I should have been the one to keep it from happening, but I didn't. Tealyr didn't get it, though. She just kept blaming Demeter, saying that she had known Demi wasn't good for me, and every time we spoke, it was just a constant quarrel. It wasn't long after that that we just stopped talking to each other all together. Tonight was the first time I'd spoken to her since then.
"And it was still the same. We were still exchanging harsh words back and forth, still yelling at each other, still finding it impossible to make the other see how they were wrong. and I got so caught up in what was being said that, at one point, I pulled out my wand. I wanted everything to go away so badly. But then, as I stood there, her words. they just kind of echoed through my mind, and I thought, for the first time, that, even after all this. she still cared about me. I guess it might have always been there, but I'd never seen it before. The things she said. every cut she made against Demeter was paired with something about me, how I 'shouldn't have had to deal with' something, or that she had 'always had my best interests at heart'.
"That sort of thing. it's not like Tealyr. And, so, I asked her. I asked her why she insisted upon acting like she still cared about me. And, she just froze for a moment. and a tear fell down her cheek. and then she walked away saying that she did care about me, but then she took it back and said that she '[I]did[/I]' now. that she had, but not anymore."
Having not moved throughout his entire speech, Orlando finally broke and closed his eyes, still keeping his head facing the wall. He didn't want to look at Faithe. He didn't want to see what she was thinking because, if he had hurt her just then, he knew the guilt would become unbearable.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, just barely loud enough for her to hear.
Fear. It was a disease that plagued everybody, spreading through them like a wildfire. People lived in fear, while others refused to acknowledge its presence. Fear could make any person stronger by forcing them to overcome their biggest phobias. Everybody comes to that crossroad in their life where they are forced to face some dark fear that has been hidden in the shadows of the deepest closet of their mind. There are those who decide to live their lives in fear, closing out anything and everyone that might test their fears, or bring in new fears alike. They never take risks, never form relationships, and never explore their own self. These people never have the chance to truly live their lives.
Faithe had never known it, but she had spent almost eighteen years of her life fitting in more with the latter group than the former. Though she had never noticed it, Isabelle Faithe Cunningham had built a wall, guarding herself, not only from others, but from herself as well. She had conscious knowledge that she had kept so many people at arm's length, but never would have thought that she had been among those people. She and Jake were close, but there were still a lot of things she wouldn't ever feel comfortable talking to him about.
Orlando had changed all that though. It had been a change so subtle that she hadn't noticed it until now as she watched him struggle to open up to her. He had taught her how to face her fears the first night he had ever really known her. Despite her negative resolve, Orlando Lorenz had not given up on her as everybody else had ever done. He'd been her strength when she had none, and had been so gentle about pushing her to where he knew she could go, to be who he knew she could be. Faithe had never been confident with herself, her true self, around other people. She always wore a false mask - the life of the 'perfect little Athena Head Girl.' From the moment she met Orlando, there had been no mask. She had always been real with him from the start, and had felt comfortable being her.
Fear had nearly driven her away from meeting the Astronomy professor for an evening of astronomical wonder. Worried about what rumors would spread around Rosencrantz should somebody see a teacher with his student, though their intentions had been pure. Fear had nearly driven the two of them apart less than twenty-four hours after that first, innocent kiss. With time, that fear ebbed away and was replaced with adoration and devotion, and eventually love. As their relationship grew, so did Faithe. Never before had Isabelle Cunningham put so much of herself into trusting and loving another person, nor had she ever felt so complete from being trusted and loved. She didn't always have to wear a smile around Orlando, she was allowed to cry and be emotionally weak, because she knew that he would be strong for her, and vice versa. He wouldn't scorn her for making a mistake, and not being the perfect girl everybody had stereotyped her to be. He accepted her - all of her.
Feeling his hands take hers, that fear that she hadn't felt since that first trip to Manhatten rekindled in her heart. Allowing him to lead her to the bed, there was a reluctance in her step. This felt like one of those conversations that started off with 'You're a great girl, but...' and ended with an 'It's not you, it's me.' Though she was dreading what Orlando had to say, merely by how he was acting, Faithe was thankful to be sitting down. As she sat, her body became as rigid as a board. Pulling the sleeve back up over her right hand, her brown eyes searched his face, not bothering to hide her worry.
Listening to his words describe the two girls, particularly Demeter, Fiathe felt her chest tighten. Struggling to breathe, she swallowed the ever growing lump in her throat. There were several times when he was speaking she wanted to interject, but remained silent. Just the same, there were more moments she simply felt like crying and running away. She felt as if she'd been lied to, and feeling like that about Orlando hurt. Granted, he hadn't actually lied to her, but he had kept something that important from her on purpose. It hurt that she had obviously done something to push him away from her, and now he was struggling to open up to her.
Faithe had just learned less than thirty minutes ago the dangers of bottling up emotions. Now, she felt so much guilt that she hadn't been there as she should have been for the man she loved, and now she was having to watch him force himself to talk to her. How selfish could she get? Although, there was something tugging at her heart.
"So, the two of you spent hte whole arguing about Demeter?" Speaking softly, her voice came out meek and hurt. Hearing herself, she reprimanded herself silently. Hadn't she just finished scolding herself for being so selfish with him? Sighing, she bit her bottom lipas her mind moved in many different directions. This wasn't about her, it was about him. Standing up, she kneeled down in front of him. Cupping his face in her hands, Faithe sought out his eyes with hers.
"Orlando," speaking with soft compassion, Faithe's thumbs moved gently back and forth on his skin, "You have to let it go. Yes, you were the man. Yes, you were older. And yes, you may have initiated what happened between the two of you. But sweetheart, if she hadn't wanted it, she would have put a stop to it. It wasn't as if you forced yourself onto her. She wasn't the only person that lost something that night, you did too. You love her Orlando, and she loves you, and you feel this lone responsibility for what happened." Stopping, Faithe swallowed the lump down in her her throat. She knew had used the present tense in that last sentence - she had done it purposefully. What scared her was that she felt so much conviction that her statement was true.
"Your guilt is trapping you in this cage Orlando. If you don't come to terms with it, it will eat you alive. You can't change what happened in the past, but you hold your future in your hands. Don't let one mistake, which may not have even been a mistake, ruin you." Dropping her eyes to the ground for a moment, Faithe tried to word everything she was feeling inside of her. There were so many different things she wanted to say, but didn't know how to say any of them.
"If you continue to drag this around with you, you're never going to be able to give yourself completely to anybody. You'll always be holding onto that fear that history is going to repeat itself, but you can't do that Orlando. Whether I end up being amazingly blessed and get to spend the rest of my life with you, or if you and Demeter were truly meant to be together, you will never be able to put everything you have into that relationship. Or if there is some unknown woman out there who actually deserves you, then she deserves to be able to know you on an unhidden level. Not only will you hurt somebody else, but you'll hurt yourself Orlando." Talking about him being with another woman caused a sharp pain in her stomach. She loved him with everything inside of her, and was willing to give anything to be with him. Not only was it a thought, but she could physically visualize how painful it was to see him with another woman. Closing her eyes for a moment, she swallowed and pushed down tears that were threatening to betray her emotions. Opening them, her eyes had watered up, but the tears remained still and unfalling as they searched his face.
"As for Tealyr Montague, you have a chance to reconcile your friendship. Don't let pride from either side get in the way of that. Orlando, it bothered her so much because she was in love with you. Anytime a female acts like that over a guy, unless they can base their opinion up with fact, it general means that they have feelings for the guy in question. Unless I'm completely out of the ballpark, it probably really hurt her to put so much time and herself into you, and to see you with another woman." That last comment hit a little too close to home for her, and she had to break her eye contact before her tears spilled over. Dropping her arms, she sat down on the floor, hugging her knees. Reaching up with her right hand, she absentmindedly began rubbing her neck. Not even thinking, she shook the sleeve down to the middle of her arm so her fingers could massage the tight muscles.
"Orlando, do you regret not staying with Demeter that night?" She couldn't look at him when she asked this question. She felt ashamed for even doing so, especially at a time like this.
Sitting there, Orlando's face was, in a sense, frozen. Although it didn't have that vacant look it typically did after he'd experienced something trying, not a muscle on his face moved, save his diaphragm as he breathed ever so slightly. His eyes remained locked closed, facing the wall, as tears welled up behind them; his eyebrows remained at just the right height to give him a remorsefully pensive look; and his lips remained pressed together, fearing that, if they opened at all, the only thing that would pass through them would be a sob. He'd cried in front of Faithe enough, and he wasn't about to do it again. Not over something like this. not over Demeter. not again. She didn't deserve that sort of torment: watching someone you love cry over losing someone else.
[quote]"So, the two of you spent the whole arguing about Demeter?"[/quote]
Innocence. Faithe's voice was filled with it. His dreaded prophecy had been realized; he'd hurt her. The pain was evident inside her voice, and Orlando couldn't have denied its existence if he'd tried, not because he was a bad liar, but because no one could repudiate the fact that she was upset, and that her distress was his fault. It wasn't just the tone of her words, either, but the words themselves. They almost sounded, understanding in a sense, but not the sense he would have liked. To him, it appeared that she had begun to believe that, after Faithe had left him, and he had thought her gone forever, he had preferred defending Demeter to Tealyr than to running after her. or, even worse, that he leaving had had such little effect on him that his mind was free to think about Demi in such a way.
Swallowing, his eyes remained closed and he offered the smallest of nods in answer to her question. True, Tealyr had begun reprimanding him for his stupidity, but none of that mattered. Since the moment Professor Montague had alluded to her, Demeter had been the primary conversation topic.
As Faithe stood, the man felt the bedsprings shift beneath him, prompting him to open his eyes and, consequently, allowing a pair of tears to run down his cheeks. His eyes flitted to Faithe, not meeting her gaze, but watching her as though he thought she was going to walk out on him as he brushed the saltwater from his face. If she left right then, he wouldn't have blamed her at all. In fact, he wouldn't have so much as raised a hand in an attempt to stop her. He knew he was asking too much of her. It was one thing for him to have asked her to accept the fact that he'd had a past with Demeter the morning after they'd truly met, and it was another thing for him to hope she would stay with him after first-handedly viewing the sort of passion that had once inundated that past, but asking her to accept him and to trust him, in spite of all the things she now knew, in spite of everything he was. complete forgiveness and acceptance was something the man would never dream of asking such a goddess to bestow upon him, and something he didn't know if he could even accept from her if it was given on her own free will.
But then, instead of leaving, he watched as she slowly eased herself onto the ground before him, kneeling there as he sat upon the bed. As her soft skin caressed his face, the man almost felt like pulling away from her, not wanting her hands to be soiled by the foulness he held within. Yet, he couldn't pull away from her. at least, not with her melodious voice filling his ears and her thumbs lightly running along his cheeks. Instead, he merely shut his eyes, hoping that, if he didn't look her in the eye, this whole thing would just be over sooner. He felt so much guilt, and so much pain for causing her such hurt that he couldn't bear to look into his eyes. He wasn't worthy of such an action; he'd lied to her.
His ears picked up her words fine, but his mind distorted them, turning them into a sort of echo as they resonated through his head. Every so often, his mind would shout out a rebuttal, but those remarks never made it through his mouth. He sat there, silently, listening to her, and getting the basic idea. Sometimes, when the logical part of his brain was allowed its say, every word she spoke made perfect sense. Yet, other times the emotional slice's voice was the loudest, telling him that nothing mattered except what he had done himself. He couldn't speak on Demeter's behalf, but the fact was that, although she had played her part, it wasn't her role that caused the man such angst; it was his own.
Although he'd listened, he hadn't really heard everything she said word-for- word. until that last eerie statement- "[I]You love her Orlando, and she loves you...[/I]". Followed by that pause, in which Faithe swallowed, Orlando's eyes flitted open for a moment, almost asking her if she knew what she had just said.
To say the man hadn't thought about such a thing would be a lie. In fact, ever since Jake had brought it up that night, the man had wondered exactly how he felt about Demi- not the memory, but the person she was here and now. After considering things, for quite awhile, Orlando Corvello Lorenz had finally reached the chilling conclusion that, yes, he did love Demeter, and, yes, he loved her still. There was something about the way she carried herself, how she spoke, how she acted, how her fingers danced upon his neck. Everything about the woman still held some little piece inside the man's heart, but the part that held all those little pieces was shattered in itself. The guilt associated with all things Demeter that he felt was like a set of iron bars, caging that part of his heart, and, until he overcame that, there was no way he could ever really love her like he used to.
Faithe was right; his guilt was trapping him. It was directing which way he would go, by locking certain doors and leaving others wide open. Each word that escaped her lips was true, although Orlando would never be able to accept them as such. In fact, to his mind, they all seemed like sweet little lies from the mouth of an innocent girl who wanted him so much that she'd say anything to get him to be over his ex. Not being able to look at her, he closed his eyes again, and made another futile attempt to get himself to try to take his face from her hands.
Of course, he didn't get very far. The feeling of her skin upon his, stroking his cheeks so lovingly. it made him feel as though everything between them was still alright, that she still loved him and that everything was okay. He couldn't possibly take that sensation away from himself; he was much too selfish. Thus, he left his head within her hands, clinging on to the last physical sign of what he had had.
As she spoke of his guilt as though it was something he had to rid himself of, Orlando's doubts kicked in again. Sure, her words sounded nice, but what she didn't understand, though, was that guilt itself was part of who he was, and it couldn't just be something he let go of. He knew that, until the day he died, what he'd done to Demeter would haunt him, and that was precisely the reason he couldn't be with her. Every time he'd see her face, he'd envision her eyes gazing trustingly up into his as her soft blond hair lay out underneath her head, mingling within the soft blades of grass; every time he'd catch a glimpse of her bare shoulders, a flash of them covered with the sheet he'd brought to use as a picnic blanket that night would come into his mind; and every time he would hear her soft sigh, he'd be transported back to that morning and find himself wondering how she must have felt when she'd woken up. only to find him gone.
She must have been desperate, scared. alone. But Orlando couldn't have helped it. He had been so young, and been so scared by what he'd done, that he just wanted to get away from it all. Waking up with Demeter's arms wrapped around him, and her head buried into his chest, his arm entangled around her shoulder. the consequences of what they- what [I]he[/I]- had just done had come into focus, and, more than anything in that moment, he wanted to get away and pretend it never happened. Of course he knew that couldn't be, but anything was better than sticking around. Like a hit-and- run driver, he was so terrified of the consequences an accident might entail that, rather than wait for them to pass, he chose to run from them, hoping that, if he ran far enough, it would all just go away. Soon enough, though, he stopped himself, just inside the cottage doors, he'd waited for her. made her breakfast so that she wouldn't realize he'd been such a coward and thought about running away from her, so that, while she'd wake up scared, the feeling would pass at the sight of him waiting for her inside, and she'd never know. Then, once she'd eaten, words had spilled out of his mouth so fast that he didn't even know what he'd said by the end of it. After a few minutes of conversation, her words uttered a final "alright", and she was gone. A memory like that wasn't meant to be let go, in Orlando's mind; it was meant to be held close and learned from. never to be forgotten.
Hearing her tell him that he'd never be able to give himself completely to anyone else, and then using herself as the prime example, nearly caused the man to lose it. She almost sounded disappointed in a sense, and he didn't blame her. He wanted to be able to give himself to her completely, not allow Demeter to hold on to any last part of him, withholding it from Faithe. But, that guilt had sparked a fear that wouldn't never entirely go away. The morning after he had taken he up on his broomstick, it had shown itself; true, while he might have also been worried about how immoral a student-teacher relationship typically was, the thought had really only crossed his mind as an excuse to prevent himself from having to commit himself to anything, or, rather, anyone. Then, on that night upon the dock, when his shoulder had pushed into hers, gently steering her body down towards the wooden planks, although he might have started something, her words just now reminded him that he wouldn't have ever been able to finish it, and, if for whatever reason he had, history, without a doubt, [I]would[/I] have repeated itself. Then again, perhaps he would have learned from the past and not stayed around that time.
Just the thought of leaving yet another girl like he had left Demeter- especially Faithe, whom he never wanted to see hurt ever again after what had happened with Kaytlin- brought that lump back to his throat. He'd caused her so much pain already and she hadn't deserved a single ounce of it; if he'd brought any more hurt into her life, especially something like that. Well, he didn't know what he'd do. He felt lost in that moment, as he pondered the thought, save the feeling of Faithe's hands still upon his face. Then, at the young woman's mention of him being meant for Demeter, or for some other unknown woman in the world, his head looked away- not out of her hands, but away enough to make a point of it.
How could she say something like that? Was it because she felt differently about him now that she knew the vast majority of his past? No, she had still used herself first. Regardless of why it had been said, he felt embarrassed that she had even mentioned it. He was ashamed of what had happened with Demeter, and somewhat humiliated that Faithe knew of it, but, then again, they were supposed to love each other, and people who love each other don't keep secrets. Still, he didn't like how she had become so unsure of them, because, even though he might have still loved Demeter, being with her wasn't worth the price he would have to pay. Every time he would be with her, he'd be plagued by memories, and he couldn't just 'let them go'; they would always be there. Besides, he loved Faithe, too. Whether that was possible- loving two women simultaneously- was something he didn't know, but he knew for an absolute fact that he loved Faithe more than life itself. Theirs wasn't just a relationship of convenience, but, to tell the truth, if the memories of that night had been obliviated from his mind, and he was free from all that "baggage", he didn't know if he would choose to be with Faithe or with Demeter. ((However, the author -does- know.))
Those thoughts were temporarily swept to the back of his mind as she re- introduced Tealyr's name into the conversation. Her words there made sense, although he could hardly believe that Tealyr had ever been in love with (much less attracted to) him. She just. wasn't that type of person. Besides, they were only friends. Still, he couldn't refute the logic behind Faithe's reasoning.
As Faithe's last comment, Orlando felt guilty. He knew she hadn't really been thinking about Tealyr's emotions when she'd said it, but rather her own when she had seen him with Demi in Manhattan. Then, feeling her hands slip from his cheeks, the man leaned his head forward, not wanting her to pull away even though he knew it was inevitable. Hearing her cry, or rather, intuitively knowing she was doing so, his head turned away from her until she spoke again.
[quote]"Orlando, do you regret not staying with Demeter that night?"[/quote]
At her words, his eyes flitted open a little, still locked upon the floor to the side of her as opposed to her body, and thoughts flooded back to him. If he [I]had[/I] stayed, where would it have gotten him? Further from Faithe and closer to the reminder that triggered forgotten feelings and memories in an instant- closer to the tangible source of all his anguish and torment- and, although he may have loved Demeter, he simply couldn't escape what having her would bring with it. Swallowing, he shook his head.
"No." he replied. But, having not been used in awhile, his voice was breathy and the word was nearly unintelligible. Clearing his throat, he repeated himself.
"No, Faithe, I don't." Though quiet, his words were true. At last, he began turning his head towards her, speaking as he did so.
"I love you, and-"
As though he'd been shot through the chest, the man's voice stopped instantaneously there, to be replaced only with a choking gasp.
Darting off the bed, he quickly flew to his knees next to her and his hands grabbed her arm pulling it quickly, but not harshly, away from her shoulder and bringing it into full view, just holding it in his lap. His eyes clouded over with worry and his lips hung partially open as he stared at the fresh scar, with fresh bloodstains surrounding it. Although the man might not have been too apt with potions he knew a healing one when he saw it.
"What happened?" he asked, eyes slowly gazing upwards, hoping to meet hers.
Faithe had been so scared when she'd said Orlando loved Demeter, but her breath had nearly been knocked out of her when he hadn't claimed her to be mistaken. She'd been expecting that he'd confirm it, so why it came to as a shock to her, Faithe didn't know. Swallowing the lump down in her throat, Faithe tried to reason with herself. Just because he loved her did not necessarily mean he was still in love with her. Those were two different feelings, and one was perfectly justifiable. Even married couples who had divorced still loved each other, though they weren't in love anymore. Did Faithe really have the right to inquire about such a thing? Probably not, at least not in her mind. However, Faithe knew she would never feel completely at ease unless she knew the answer. If she was holding so much of herself back, then she knew she wouldn't be being fair to either of them, especially Orlando. He deserved better than that. With a reluctant resolve, she bit down on the tip of her tongue.
"Orlando, are you still in love with Demeter?" Struggling to keep her voice steady and audible, Faithe couldn't even force her eyes up to him. What she would do if he said yes, she still didn't know. She knew she wouldn't be able to be anything more than a friend to him, even though it broke her heart to think of how hard that would be. Faith was on the verge of running out the room. Never in a million years had she thought that she would be put in a position where she would be having to ask Orlando a question that wouild either make them, or break them. It had to be done though, for both their sakes.
If Faithe and Orlando tried to hold on to their relationship while he was in love with another woman, they would be setting themselves up for failure. There could be no more pretending that life was a fairytale. Faithe was not a princess, nor Orlando her Prince Charming, coming to rescue her on his white steed. In fairytales, the princes only had eyes for the one princess, and only had one antagonist to fight. Faithe had to wake up and face the reality. Though Orlando was her Prince Charming, and had saved her in more ways than one, life wasn't a storybook. Despite Shakespeare's words, the world was not a stage. Even the tragedies he wrote had happy endings, if you looked at it the right way.
If Orlando was still in love with Demeter, Faithe knew she would have to let him go. She wouldn't be like Tealyr Montague or Demeter Lawrance, though. No, Faithe could never turn her back on Orlando. No matter what happened to them in the end, Faithe wouldn't abandon him as everybody else had done. That sort of thing just didn't fit Faithe's character. Faithe was the sort of person who would be a friend to an enemy in their time of need, and there was no way she could even think about leaving the man she loved.
When Orlando suddenly bounded over to her, her eyebrows furrowed together in a confusing expression. As he reached for her arm, everything within her became still and cold. She couldn't lie to him, but she certainly couldn't tell him that she had mutilated her body. He was upset and hurting as it was, the last thing she wanted to do was add anger to the mix. There was no need to bring what happened before he arrived up for conversation. It wouldn't happen again.
Faithe found that she didn't regret doing what she'd done. It had given her a small, quiet way to find peace of mind in a moment where all she'd felt was pain and dispair. The more she thought about it, the more justification she found in what she had done. Would everybody have just preferred her to throw a tantrum, like most people? Faithe was a pascifist, for the most part. Of course, the rational part of Faithe was screaming in opposition. It didn't matter how rough and trying life became, there was no excuse for harming herself.
Then there was Jacques. Though she felt no regret for what she had done, Faithe felt so much guilt for opening up all those wounds in his life. Jacques had easily become one of her best friends, and had trusted in her. Faithe absolutely ashamed and disgusted with herself for putting him through such an uncomfortable position. She'd been selfish again, and her selfishness had brought pain unto another person she loved and cared about. Faithe had this strong urge to find him, and talk with him. He had been so upset when he'd walked out the door, and Faithe couldn't blame him. He had just stuck with her through such a trying time, and she'd paid him almost no mind once Orlando had arrived. Before she left, she had to find him.
"I was packing, and broke a glass." She wasn't lying, per say, she just wasn't including the entire truth in her statement. Pulling her arm away, a bit harsher than she had intended, she pointed to the shattered glass that had lain forgotten.
"It's not important. Why did you speak so harshly towards Jacques when you arrived? He didn't deserve it." Changing the subject, Faithe pulled her sleeve back over her hand. There was no conviction or spite in her voice when she spoke, but there was concern. If he thought something had been happening between the two of them, she needed to set that record straight.
((Well, I had that dream I was hoping for, but it didn't happen like I wanted it to. Neither did this post. I meant for it to be a normal post with just a little more Demi/Orlando info, but it turned into a massive flashback that was just confusing to follow. But, I really need to pack for band camp since I have to go shopping with Goo tomorrow morning and we leave for camp at 4 tomorrow. Sorry, Kaycee.))
At her words, Orlando's eyes immediately shut themselves again, scared of letting any of his feelings he desired to spare the girl from escape. There were certain things he couldn't tell her and, if there had been one thing Faithe could have said to completely cripple whatever secrecy Orlando still had, that had been it. His story, thusfar, hadn't been explicit; he'd left certain parts, such as his feelings for Demeter, with an ambiguous sense to them, and, now, she was asking him to draw a line and tell her on which side he stood. Did he love Demeter, or was he [I]in love[/I] with Demeter? Perhaps the most obvious reason he had been so unclear with his words was the fact that he himself didn't know the answer. At first thought, the answer was 'absolutely not'. But, then, considering everything, he wondered if that was really the truth. Resting an elbow on his thigh, he covered his face with his hand, letting out a small sigh as memories flooded back to him.
[I]Demeter squealed upon seeing the delightful array of sunny-side-up eggs and toast upon the table. Running over to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lifting herself up onto him. But his arms didn't hold her against him with the same enthusiasm; they waited a moment before securing her just enough to make sure she wouldn't fall.
She pulled back from him, then, setting herself upon the ground and, as her head tilted, and those emerald eyes looked into his, Orlando wished to fall through the floorboards. She was so young, so trusting, so eager. and so foolish.
'What's wrong, Orlando?'
Almost in a daze, his fingers reached out, running from her temple, down along her jawline, until his hand cupped her chin lightly. A sort of glaze seemed to cover his brilliantly blue eyes, giving them an eeriness as they waltzed over the young girl's face, taking in every aspect of it reverently, as though he was admiring an artistic masterpiece of sorts.
"Last night was so wrong of me, Demi," he whispered, still entranced as his thumb stroked her face. "I'm so sorry. I got carried away, and. I couldn't stop."
"No, no, no." Demeter pleaded with a soft smile, wrapping her arms around his body again and pushing herself against him as though it would make him stop. "Everything was perfect, Orlando. You didn't do a thing wrong- not a thing."
"Yes, I did," he retorted, holding her tightly to him, "Can't you see, Demi?"[/I]
When he had first told Faithe about Demeter, his story had been vague enough to be considered entirely true, but, as he had told her more and more, he had left out a rather large part of the story, contorting it into a lie itself. He knew he ought to just come clean now, and to tell her exactly how he and Demeter had 'just faded away', that it had been his doing alone. Somehow, though, he couldn't get up the nerve to tell her that he had pushed Demeter from his life because he didn't know if she would be able to understand everything. He did, though. Although he had done wrong, everything he did from the moment Demeter had seen him that morning had been right. He had taken responsibility for his actions, and had taken responsibility for Demeter's as well, and it had been he who gave the ultimatum and split them up. He had had to; it was the only choice.
She hadn't understood, and he had had to make her see. Doing what he did, he risked so many things. Hurting her, ruining their relationship, getting her pregnant. He had been so in over his head emotionally that logic hadn't seemed like a priority that night, but once he had awoken, his brain seemingly returned to him. Demeter, however, still didn't understand. He hadn't expected her to, of course; she was in love- seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. She had just kept repeating herself- telling him that he hadn't done anything wrong- only because she didn't get it. At that moment, she didn't realize how severe things were. She didn't care that he'd taken something from her that he couldn't ever give back, because, at that moment, she wanted him to have it. She gave herself to him completely that night, and he gave himself to her, but, the difference was that she didn't seem to consider what would happen if they ever split up. He was sure that he'd still want her to have had that part of himself, but did she feel the same way? They weren't married and they weren't competent- they were two young, foolish, and enamored people who had ended up together somehow. Things weren't set in stone and anything could happen at any time to split them apart; they still had their entire lives ahead of them.
He didn't expect her to see what he could, but it didn't stop him from voicing the concern. Never in the future did he want her to begrudge him for what happened. True, she hadn't ever seemed the least bit reluctant as she had followed his lead- from just allowing him to slide her tank top's strap down her shoulder to heal the cut upon her shoulder blade to what followed that- but the fact that he hadn't ever asked her if she wanted him to stop, that he hadn't ever given her a choice. he felt guilty for it, and it was for that reason that he did what he did. He hadn't wanted her to continue to stay with him until she was completely clear exactly who he was. He didn't want her to wake up one morning ten years later and realize then how horrible Orlando was and to be upset that she had wasted so much of her precious time on Earth with him. So, he had made it easy for her: he left.
[I]"Someday, Demi, you'll see what I'm trying to tell you," he whispered, having never allowed his fingers to leave her face, "And if, after you realize what I've done to you, you forgive me, and accept me, and love me still, then you'll know where to find me. If that ever happens, somehow I know I'll see you again. Until then, please. just tell me you understand why I'm doing this."[/I]
The words flooded back into his mind as if he had just spoken them aloud, and it was then that everything clicked. He had forgotten about those words when he'd seen Demeter in Manhattan earlier this year, but now, as he recalled them, the man let out a terrible sigh. When she had seen him, Demeter had been trying to tell him something, but he hadn't gotten it. Now, as he grasped exactly what she had been there for, everything was different. But, no. if everything was truly different, then why had he felt so right about leaving her and running back to Faithe in Manhattan? Because he didn't know then what he had only just realized now: Demeter had finally accepted him. He'd gotten through to her, and she understood. Now, the only question that remained was: was it too late?
"I can't be." he replied quietly, though not too convincingly, finally lifting his head and looking back at Faithe.
He hoped that was enough, for it was all the man could say at the moment. However, he longed to speak more, to tell her that he couldn't be in love with Demeter when he was in love with her, but, for some reason, he couldn't form those words. He knew for a fact that he loved Faithe, but was he in love with her? Thinking about it, the man reasoned that he had to be. How else could he possibly feel about her? But, then, what of Demeter? How else could he possibly feel about [I]her[/I]?
((I think that this would be a good time to revert to my earlier post and insert the "I love you, and-" break strain in order to fit together the plot pieces, however, if you disagree, that's cool. It's just a suggestion. I mean, have Faithe reply, 'cause the "I love you, and-" can come afterwards, or he can interrupt her, or. whatever))
As Faithe jerked her arm away from him, Orlando recoiled, somewhat hurt (emotionally) by how quickly and roughly she had pulled her arm from her grasp. It was as though she didn't want him touching her, and, with the way things were going for them that evening, he understood.
His eyes flitted momentarily to the glass upon the floor before reverting his gaze to her arm and then to her eyes. There was no way she had all the ingredients or the time to make such a complicated potion, and he hadn't ever known Faithe to be the clumsy or careless type who would be cut so severely by just breaking a glass. Then, had he heard her right? Packing? Where was she- Stopping in mid-thought, the man answered the question himself. She truly was leaving; he had only come in before she'd had a chance to leave.
"I was upset, and I let my emotions manifest themselves in ways they shouldn't have." Orlando replied crisply, but more matter-of-factly than rudely. "I said earlier that it was uncalled for, but I guess you didn't hear me."
Flitting his eyes back to her arm, he reached for it, figuring there was no harm to do now; she was already leaving, and he might as well pull out all the stops. Even if he didn't manage to pull her arm back to her lap, his fingers did snag the fabric and pushed it (at least momentarily) upwards, revealing the fresh scar.
"I know I don't really have the right to ask, but please, Faithe, tell me the truth. What happened? Did Jacques hurt you?"
The moment his eyes closed, Faithe wanted to die. That, in itself, was a silent answer to her question. Closing her eyes, her hand covered her eyes in hopes of preventing herself from crying. It seemed a silly thing to do, really. Her hands wouldn't prevent the tears from spilling over, but she did manage to recover for the time being. Struggling to keep her breath steady, she dropped her hand back to her lap. There was almost a desolate expression in her eyes - her eyes that she couldn't face him with.
When he looked at her, Faithe felt his eyes staring at her, but still couldn't bring herself to look at him. This was it, then. Standing up, she walked over to the dresser she had originally stored her clothes in, but had yet to finish packing. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out a small, cardboard box. Walking back over to where he sat, she kneeled down next to him. Reaching in, she pulled out a small box, and opened it. Pulling out a small gold star, one that resembled the same as hers and Kaytlin's, only gold, Faithe lifted his hand and placed it in his palm.
"It was the first one I ever enchanted myself." Somehow, she managed to keep her voice within her normal octave, though her voice was dripping with pain. "It links you to me and Kaytlin, and mine was modified to do the same. If you ever want to check up on her, for whatever reason..." Allowing her voice to trail off, her hands dropp back down to the box.
"If you don't want it, I understand. I know she was quite taken with you." Faithe was really struggling to keep herself in her right mind. Pulling out a keychain, she set it down next to him. "You have a lot of things you need to work out Orlando, and I'd rather be here for you as a friend than to try to hold onto something that isn't meant for me." I'm going to throw up.
***
Hearing his words, Faithe's eyebrows furrowed together as her eyes watered up. The inflection in his voice killed her, but it tortured her even more to know that it was aimed at her. When he reached for her arm, her whole body flinched as she were afraid he was going to hit her. Shaking her head at the accusation he had thrown at Jacques, Faithe was stunned that he had even thought about Jacques Hilton hurting anybody.
"Jacques would never hurt me Orlando. Why are you so set against him suddenly?" Speaking in a timid manner, Faithe shook her head softly as she inquired about his sudden dislike for the prefect. "He helped me."
((Yours wasn't dreadful, and I adored the way you brought to star into things. [I]This[/I] is dreadful, but I'm hoping that you can reply before I have to leave so that I can write a reply and send it to you from band camp. I'll be on around 2 or 3 your time))
As Faithe turned away from him, and he watched her walk away, Orlando felt something he'd never quite felt before. It was a mix of selfish sorrow, selfless guilt and too many other emotions to name. She was leaving, truly, and he could have stopped her. but, then again, he couldn't. He wouldn't lie to her again, ever again. especially not about something like this. Although it wasn't exactly the same situation, he felt as though the scene in Manhattan was playing itself out all over again, only this time he wasn't going to get her back.
Did he want her back? Certainly. That was, without a doubt, true. Faithe knew everything about him, and it had felt so wonderful not to have to wear a front with her, but he couldn't answer the question of if he was truly in love with her. He wanted to be- after all they had been through, all signs pointed to yes- but he couldn't say it, and, if he couldn't look her in the eyes and tell her that he was completely in love with her and only her. then perhaps it was best he let her go. Again, though, he didn't want to. He knew that, at that moment, he was ripping her still-beating heart out of her chest and seemingly smashing it to the ground maliciously, but, really, if he was killing her, it more a form on manslaughter than murder.
As his eyes cast themselves upon the golden star in her hands, the man let out a quiet gasp, almost intuitively knowing what was coming. Of course, that foresight probably made the whole thing harder for him to go through rather than easier. At the touch of her hand, he had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from making any other noises. He was the one that was causing this pain and whatever he felt had to be minute compared to what he was causing Faithe to go through; he didn't have the right to be hurt. Looking down at the star for a moment, his eyes lingered upon it before returning to Faithe's, glazed over with tears and radiating nothing but apologetic gratitude.
While she trailed off and her hand dropped from his, Orlando pursed his lips together for a moment, knowing that that would probably be the last time his hand ever felt the sensation of hers upon it. In all honesty, the man never thought he and Faithe would end, much less that he would be the cause if something ever were to happen.
"I'm so sorry, Faithe," he whispered as his eyes looked to hers. "Really, I- "
[quote]"If you don't want it, I understand. I know she was quite taken with you."[/quote]
Closing his hand around the star, he shook his head. Of course he wanted it. He had found himself rather charmed by Kaytlin as well, and, even though he may not have been in love with Faithe, he [I]did[/I] love her. Taking the keychain from the ground, he gathered it in his hand somberly.
"[I]As a friend.[/I]"
Faithe as a friend. only a friend. The thought echoed through his mind a few times over. How could she torture herself like that? Not that he wanted her out of his life, but just knowing that she was in love with him and yet could still want to be with him so badly that she'd sacrifice herself to have a friendship with him rather than nothing. He wanted to hold her close to him just then, to make everything alright, and some part of him still longed to kiss her, but none of those things could happen.
She was right when she said he had a lot of things to work out. He had tried to back in Manhattan, but he'd been too hasty, too eager to get back to Faithe, to do so correctly, and now it was all coming back to haunt him.
"[I].than to try to hold onto something that isn't meant for me.[/I]"
Those words right there plunged a knife into the man's chest and twisted it several times over. He didn't know what to do, though. What could he do? Nothing that would help, that was sure.
"Faithe." he whispered, "I didn't want things to turn out like this. I'm. I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
***
"So, it was his potion that healed you?" Orlando replied, more stating a fact rather than asking a question. Sighing, he shook his head.
"I'm not set against my own house's prefect, I'm just. I don't know. I just want to know what happened, because you're not maladroit enough to cut yourself that badly from breaking a glass.
"Obviously, you didn't just pick up a piece of glass and slice your arm open," he declared as though it was the most ludicrous thing in the world, "so I thought maybe Jacques had gotten upset with you, or just been upset in general, and you had gotten caught in the crossfire.
"I don't know, Faithe! What happened?"
Hearing him apologize, Faithe shook her head. She had known something like this would happen, but she had tried to feed herself a lie. A lie that Orlando truly did want to be with her, but part of her, deep down, had known better. She had been a substitute, a rebound. The only person she was good enough for, apparently, was a man who was willing to kidnap her niece so he could marry her.
"Orlando, don't apologize for your feelings. Who are we to say they weren't supposed to turn out this way? We all have one person for us in this world, and if I'm not it, you have no reason to feel sorry." Biting her bottom lip to keep it from wavering, Faithe held his gaze, somehow. She was determined not to cry in front of him, the first time she'd ever done that with him.
***
quote:
...you didn't just pick up a piece of glass and slice your arm open
Wincing at those words, Faithe's eyes fell to the ground. Swallowing harshly, she looked up when he had finished his little rant. She couldn't lie to him, but at this point, Faithe didn't want to discuss it.
"I wasn't exactly calm and sane when I was packing, professor. People step out of character when they're upset." It had been so long since Faithe hadn't used his first name, but somehow it seemed to fit the mood.
"Yes, it was Jacques' potion. He saw me upset and checked on me. I should probably go find him. He was upset when he left and he doesn't need to be alone when he's upset." She hadn't really meant to say anything about Jacques' problem, or anything leading to it, but that had slipped out. Faithe did need to find him, though. He said he was still cutting, and if he was, she didn't know how upset he had to be before he started. Standing up, she pulled the sleeve back down over her arm.
"Please," Orlando entreated her as she spoke, "Don't..."
'Don't what? Don't make me feel bad? Don't tell me you're the not the one for me when I want you to be so badly but still can't tell you that I'm in love with you?' Yeah, that sounded great and was just soooo logical. He didn't know what he was feeling, or why he was feeling it. Demeter was supposed to be behind him, and he was supposed to be completely in love with Faithe. They were going to be happy together, she was going to dance for a few years while he saved up money, then he was going to ask her to marry him, and they would live happily ever after- in love. But nothing was going right; everything was a mess.
"I want to be in love with you, Faithe..." he said, immediately knowing that wasn't exactly a good thing to say the moment the words had escaped his lips. Now he'd just admitted to her that he wasn't in love with her, and admitted the same to himself, more importantly.
She was everything he wanted, everything he needed, everything inside of him that he wished he could be; she said all the right things at exactly the right times, but she meant nothing to him, and he didn't know why. Well, not nothing, but nothing in the romantic sense... Why couldn't he just be in love with Faithe and forget all about Demeter? Was it guilt? Jealousy? Or just wistful thinking about the past coming back?
"That was a horrible thing to say..." he said quickly, knowing that nothing he could possibly say would take away the memory of those words from her mind. Something like that... it didn't just fade away the moment the audio waves died out; it echoed forever through one's head, incessantly repeating itself.
***
As Faithe winced, Orlando's eyes widened in panic. Had she really don't something like that? Her explanation seemed to insinuate such. But then, it didn't seem like she was going to discuss it with him... especially not when she referred to him as "Professor" which, in itself, prompted the man to gnaw upon his tongue. He hadn't been called that by her in ages, and the word coming from her mouth sounded foreign in a sense. But, that was what happened when people moved on...
"I'm not your professor anymore," he replied, not spitefully at all. "You've graduated, and you can call me 'Orlando'..."
It was sickening really, how they had begun starting all over again, and he was just telling her that they could go on a "first-name-basis". so sickening he almost wanted to retch.
Hearing about Jacques, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Doesn't need to be left alone when he's upset? What did she mean by that? His thoughts were interrupted, however, as she stood.
"So this is it?" he managed to utter, standing up as well and looking at her with a tilted head. "You're leaving?"
Don't what? Be honest? In Faithe's eyes, she was being honest. He didn't love her, he never had. She was second rate, and she had always known it. It's how her life had always been, which is why she had stayed away from relationships. Orlando was better than she could have ever hoped for, even if she had only been blessed to catch a glimpse of what her dream life was.
quote:
I want to be in love with you, Faithe...
Her eyes closed as his words hit her in the face, like a brick being thrown. Opening her eyes slowly, she had to coach herself silently to keep breathing. Swallowing the incessant lump in her throat, she shook her head.
"It wasn't a horrible thing to say. It's how you feel. There's no shame in it." She had always known she was never good enough for Orlando's love, but hearing him say it after so many oppositional debates the two had had, still brought tears to Faithe's eyes. Looking away, she managed to keep control of herself and her emotions. "And I don't blame you."
**
"It's a sense of propriety, Professor Lorenz."
"I've already missed my boat, if that's what you mean. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning." Speaking softly, her eyes flitted towards the clock, though it didn't really matter. Her eyes moved from the clock between the two beds to the shattered glass on the ground. She turned her head quickly away, shutting out the longing she had to walk over there and pick up a shard.
"It will give us at least another week to rehearse." Not that it was important, but Faithe was trying to reason out the advantages of having her heart pulled out and beaten to a pulp.
"If you ever need a friend, don't hesitate to write me." She wouldn't turn her back on him, no matter how much it hurt her to see him. He'd had to endure people treating him unjustly because of how he felt too many times, and Faithe wouldn't allow herself to be one of those people.
Seeing her eyes close and fail to open quickly, Orlando grimaced mentally. He hadn't meant it like it had come out. It was aimed at comforting her, and it wasn't his aim that was off, but rather the arrow he was shooting with. Those words he had used held a certain undercurrent to them; however inadverent it was, he was, in a sense, telling Faithe that something was wrong with her. Of course, the first words that popped into his mind were (ironically), "It's not you, it's me", but he knew better than to say something that clichéd. It would rub away at an already raw wound rather than heal it.
"Yes, yes it was," he countered, "I shouldn't have said it at all, no matter what reasoning was behind it. It's not fair of me to do that to you..."
'[i]Why are you still here?[/i]' he wanted to ask, wondering how she could possibly still look at him, be in the same room as him, and still be treating him, not only civilly, but warmly after all he'd put her through.
Still gnawing on his tongue, he warily reached out with a hand and made an attempt to turn her face towards him, slowly and gently, simultaneously wiping a few tears from her cheek.
"You [i]have[/i] to blame me," he added, as though he was telling a young child that, yes, they did have to clean their room. "It's my fault, Faithe, not yours... not yours at all."
Well, he'd avoided the clichéd words, but he was certainly failing at avoiding their connotation...
**
[quote]"It's a sense of propriety, Professor Lorenz." [/quote]
He hated hearing such formality pass through the lips he used to kiss so passionately. It was as though nothing had ever happened between them. Biting his lower lip, he tilted his head back for a brief moment, almost as if he was asking some higher being why this was happening to him.
Well, it was nice that she wasn't leaving until morning... Not that it mattered, really, though. What else could be said or done? Besides, it was nighttime, and late already; she'd probably just gotten up to insinuate he should leave so she could sleep... or rather cry herself to sleep. Just the thought of Faithe crying over him, over what he'd done to her... The guilt was rather comparable to that which he'd felt about Demeter.
[quote]"If you ever need a friend, don't hesitate to write me."[/quote]
The way she had spoken just then... it wasn't that it was unexpected, but rather that he couldn't believe she would submit herself to such torture. He knew she had been (if she wasn't still) in love with him, and, being someone's first true love... well, no one truly gets completely over that ever... How could she be so casually flippant, yet still so kind? She was truly leaving him, but refused to go away without leaving him some way of still keeping her in his life... just as friends, though... nothing more, but nothing less.
"Faithe..." he began, speaking softly, through someone clenched (yet not angry at all) ((like, if you put your tongue between your top and bottom teeth, bite it, then pull it back and put both rows of teeth together and speak while drawing your breath in... kinda like that)) teeth. What? What was he going to say? What [i]could[/i] he say?
"I..."
'[i]I what? I want you to stay with me. I still want to see you, hold you, laugh with you... take up all of your time and prevent anyone else from loving you even though I can't myself?[/i]' No, that wasn't fair. He had to let her go, to get on with her life without him. It would be better for her to forget him completely, as he had done with Demeter. If he remained in her life, or tried to come back into it, like Demeter had done to him, he'd be holding her back from all the good things that could happen to her, and he wouldn't do that.
"I won't be writing you," he finished after a moment. "You-" He paused for a brief instant, almost choking on his words but fighting to give them the resolve they needed to be convincing, "You won't hear from me again after tonight. I promise... I won't drag you down with my problems anymore. You don't deserve that..."
Her eyebrows furrowed at his words, trying to keep herself from crying. Now she was causing him guilty. Good job Faithe. How many more times are you going to dig the knife deeper in this whole situation? Reprimanding herself silently, Faithe shook her head. His touch felt like a flame, burning her skin. It was almost tantilizing in a malicious sort of way, teasing her with the soft caress of his hand on her skin.
"No, it isn't your fault. It's my fault for trying to live a life not meant for me. I can't keep you to myself if it isn't what you want, nor did I have any right trying to pretend that it was. All I want from you is to be happy, and I can accept it that I can't bring to your life what you need." There was a genuine air in her voice as she spoke, and she managed to keep her tears inside her eyes. Reaching up, she took his hand, removing it from her face and laying it down in his lap.
***
Her eyes flitted from the floor to his eyes when he said he wouldn't write her. Opening her mouth to speak, she found her voice have suddenly ceased to work. Closing it, her lips rolled inwardly and she bit her bottom lip so hard and relentlessly, it didn't take long before she tasted the salty taste of blood on the tip of her tongue. Falling back to the ground, her eyes were once more threatning to rain the liquid of her emotions. ((Wow, that sounded really stupid.))
"I understand. I mean, why would you want to keep in touch with an ex- student?" Shrugging to herself, Faithe's voice came out wavering and meek. Walking to the table, she grabbed her room key and pocketed it. He didn't want anything to do with her. Fine, she would have to live with it. She wasn't good enough even for a friend, but how could that possibly surprise her? Her parents were right - she had one path in life, and that was the same path every member in her family had taken. She had been naive to think that she could ever have an ideal life - she had to make the life she was given ideal.
"I need to find Jacques. Good luck with Demeter." Unable to meet his eyes one last time, Faithe walked for the door, not giving him time to respond to her last rhetorical question. Sidestepping into the bathroom momentarily, she lifted the shard of glass from earlier and hiding it in her balled up fist, inside the sleeve. Stepping back beside the door and opening it, she stepped out, her eyes searching up and down the hallway as the door clicked shut behind her.
Finally free from Orlando's gaze, Faiteh allowed the tears in her eyes to run free. Hitting the button to the elevator, she had a strong sense of deja vu. She was always being thrown aside, and towards the elevator because of Demeter. Not that she blamed the woman, or Orlando, it was her fault. Her fault for being as stupid as she was to think that she could ever fill that void in Orlando's heart. Stepping onto the elevator, she hit the bottom for the bottom deck, the storage deck.
In a sense, Orlando felt as though he was going through some sort of sickening déja vu. Once more, he was making one of those decisions that he didn't want to, but was for the best. Faithe's words were so incredibly wrong that Orlando had to restrain himself from shouting at her as she spoke. She couldn't have been more wrong if she'd tried. How come she couldn't see that he [I]did[/I] want her to keep him to herself, that he [I]did[/I] want to be with her? He just couldn't feel that way about her. Love, even lust, wasn't a feeling one could will themselves to have. It had to come of its own accord, and it wasn't.
He could see the pain he was bringing to her, and, for a moment, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could will himself to forget about Demeter, about running off in search of her, trying to bring back the past. Why, when he could have something just as good (if not better) here, with Faithe, did he want to sacrifice it for something he'd had so long ago? Perhaps it was just sick human nature- wanting that which one cannot have- but he knew he couldn't be with Faithe unless things fell through with Demeter. It wasn't that she was his second choice, but merely that he couldn't be fair to her and give her his complete and absolute self until he got back the part of it Demeter still held on to.
Again, the man's mind couldn't be made up. Was he letting Faithe go because he was really trying to do what was best for her, or was that all just a lie he was telling himself because he didn't want to admit that he was still in love with Demeter and that the whole time he had been with Faithe, he had just been using her affection as a replacement for what he'd given up?
Letting her hand take his from her face, he gazed into her eyes, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"No." he whispered, "Faithe. it's not that. It's just. I never. Things with Demi. they just never got completely wrapped up. I tried to push her out of my mind after it first happened, then, in Manhattan, I tried to do it again, but I just can't. and I don't want to be with you until I can promise you that I'm not in love with her anymore- any part of her.
"I want to ask you to wait for me; I want to beg you to understand everything; and I want to be so in love with you that you're all I can think about, but none of those things can happen right now. And I know. I know it's not fair of me to be telling you any of this, because all I'm doing is making this harder for you, but I can't let you think that you weren't ever enough for me, or that I was never totally and completely enamored with you. You're perfect, Faithe; you really are. I'm not though, not by a long shot."
***
[quote]"I understand. I mean, why would you want to keep in touch with an ex-student?"[/quote]
"Faithe, that's not it at all!" Orlando's voice came out a bit louder than intended, almost making him sound angry, but not quite. His voice was too hurt to be perceived as mad.
"You're not just an ex-student to me," he retorted, "You're so much more than that, and that's why I can't write you. I can't keep you on this string like some pet and involve you in every aspect of my life when all it's going to do it hurt you. You don't' deserve it. I won't keep you in limbo like that, never letting you know if I want and love you with every ounce of my being or if you're just a substitute because my heart still belongs to Demeter. I don't even know how I feel, Faithe!"
((insert "I need to find Jacques. Good luck with Demeter." here))
As she moved around the room, he could do nothing but watch in silence. For a moment after she'd left, he had just stood there, wondering if he should go off after her. Eventually, he decided it would be better to go elsewhere. maybe to go crawling back to an old friend. But, he couldn't leave Faithe without telling her something.
Walking out of the room, he caught a glimpse of her blue skirt as she turned the corner towards the elevator shaft. Running down the deck, he whipped around the corner just in time to place his hand upon the door and prevent it from shutting.
"I meant it when I said that I want to be in love with you, and I know those aren't the right words, but it's all I can say. I just. Everything with us, Faithe. every little thing has been perfect, you know that, don't you? I love you; I really do, but I just can't tell you I'm completely yours- completely in love with you- until Demeter is absolutely gone from me. She has to be out of my heart, out of my mind. just. gone.
"Please," he implored, "just tell me you understand this isn't your fault."
H ow could Faithe wait for something that she doubted would ever come? She couldn't, but Faithe didn't exactly foresee Orlando having anything to worry about when it came to Faithe finding somebody else. She wasn't the relationship type of girl, and that had just been proven once more, only differently than anytime before. He was right though, his talking like this was driving the sword deeper into her heart. Lowering her eyes, she shook her head slowly.
"No. It wasn't fair of me to try to hold you away from her. There's no sense in our arguing about this, we're just going in circles." Crossing her arms, her eyes flitted from the floor up to his face.
"And I'm not perfect. I am so far from perfection." As she said this, her thoughts drifted to the moments before Orlando had showed up. No, somebody who had achieved perfection would never have done that. "You need her, and I understand that. I was a fool for thinking I could even begin to take her place. The two of you have a bond, and I'm not part of that. I refuse to stand in your way. And that's all that needs to be said about it." There was conviction in her voice as she spoke, truly wishing the conversation to be over with. They were running in a neverending circle, and that's all it would continue to be.
***
Jumping slightly as he raised his voice, Faithe took a step back. She couldn't hide the fearful look on her face at his outburst of volume. Ever since the deal with Eddie, Faithe had become skittish around any unpleasant confrontations that involved raised voices. Shaking her head, Faithe bit her tongue before speaking.
"I don't want you to be left without a friend. You don't deserve it. I'm not going to walk away from this like some sore loser - like some spiteful, scorned lover. You don't want anything to do with me, and I can accept that. Enough said." Despite the harshness that some of her words conveyed, Faiteh showed no hint of being angry, or spiteful.
quote:
just tell me you understand that this isn't your fault at all
Faithe had been in the process of slipping the piece of glass from one hand to the next. Luckily, depending on how it was percieved, she had yet to do so when Orlando appeared in front of her. Listening to him, she reached up with her free hand and wiped away the streams her tears had left.
"I'd like to say what you want to hear, but I'm not going to lie to you. I find so many faults, so many things I did wrong, and I know I have my part in this as well." Stepping forward, she removed his hand gently. Hitting the close button, she stared at his eyes, her own eyes radiating pain and desolation. Once she was staring back at herself from the metal door, she slumped against the wall.
"But you didn't hold me from her, Faithe," Orlando said quietly, "I did, and it wasn't for any other reason except my feelings for you. I wanted to be with [I]you[/I], and I still want to be with you."
The man trailed off there, knowing that he couldn't possibly be making any sort of sense to the poor young woman just then. If he wanted to be with her so badly, then why wasn't he? Logically, it didn't work out, but no one ever claimed that emotions fit the mold logic made for them.
As her arms folded, Faithe seemed possessed, in a sense. She had never crossed her arms at him; then again, she had never really had reason to be angry with him before either. Of course, this entire night hadn't exactly been characteristic of their relationship thusfar.
Sighing, the man's eyes closed momentarily. Everything was just spinning further and further out of control. Why was everything going wrong? And, on that same topic, why couldn't he just forget Demeter and fall back in love with Faithe? It wasn't as if he'd ever see Demi again, right? But, no, the man knew himself too well. Although he could block the woman out of his thoughts for a certain amount of time, like he had done when he had originally fallen in love with the young Athenian, there would- until he had completely worked out everything and understood the mechanics of why he and Demeter had failed- always be a moment in whatever relationship he found himself in where her essence would ebb away at him, and he would find himself, once more, emotionally paralyzed- unable to allow himself to love anyone for fear of wronging her the way he had wronged Demeter. or perhaps worse. For what was worse than sleeping with someone when a part of your heart still laid with someone else?
"Alright, maybe you're not perfect to you Faithe, but, to me, there isn't a thing I'd change about you.
"This isn't about me needing her and you filling her place," he said almost desperately, trying to release Faithe's guilt, "But now that I've said all I can, so I'll stop."
*** As Faithe jumped, Orlando grimaced apologetically. He hadn't meant his voice to be so forceful, but he couldn't have possibly helped his emotions manifestation.
"No, Faithe," he replied when she had finished, trying not to allow his voice to crescendo to any louder than a mezzo piano. He has sort of arguing incessantly with her, but he simply couldn't remain silent and let her believe something so wrong. "I want [I]everything[/I] to do with you." Reaching a hand up, he ran it along her face then set it back by his side.
***
He wanted to hold his hand on the door and allow it to be smashed by the cold metal rather than let Faithe's move it out of the way; any pain would be better than letting her go. Yet, he knew he ought not push her, and moved his hand away the second hers had touched it. The door began to close, and his eyes, filled with despair and remorse, didn't leave hers until it had closed complete.
Pounding his fists upon the metal gateway once he was sure Faithe couldn't hear, he failed to relent until his hands had grown numb.
"What could [I]you[/I] have possibly done wrong?" he cried, slowly slumping against the door and allowing his body to eventually land upon the floor in a crumpled mass. It had been he who had caused the problems, destroyed the sanctity they'd shared, and just plain ruined everything, not just with Faithe, but with Demeter, with Tealyr, for his family.. How could he set everything right again? Could he even dream up a way to perform such a miracle? Probably not, nothing could possibly fix [I]every[/I]thing he'd screwed up in his twenty-two years of existence. Perhaps, though, there were [I]some[/I]things he could fix, or, at least, try to fix.
Sighing to himself, he picked his limp corpse off of the deck boards and tried to turn himself around, but found such an action impossible without lingering a moment to stare at the door where Faithe had stood moments earlier. Delirious, his mind contorted his reflection into one of Faithe and he saw her eyes staring back at him in the moment before he forced himself to look away and carry out what reparations he could.
Within a short while he had reached his destination. Knocking upon the stateroom door of one Tealyr Soleil Montague, he sighed again, praying the woman would answer and, if she did, that she wouldn't slam the door in his face.
Closing her eyes, Tealyr Montague sauntered over to a chair and fell backwards on it. She deftly plucked the waning cigarette from her lips and extinguished it in an ashtray on the table beside her. She massaged her temple slowly, fingers slipping down to the bridge of her nose. A migraine was pounding inside of her skull at that moment.
And why wouldn't it be? The last hour or so of her life had been the most stressful in years. She had taken a simple stroll across the deck, only to discover what had been Rosencrantz's best kept secret of the past year. Old battle wounds had been mercilessly slashed open again as she had reentered the battle that, supposedly, had ended a long time ago. And now...what was she to do?
Part of her wanted to contact her mother immediately. Fueled by a repressed anger that had been boiling all these years, deep inside of her that she had learned to ignore, she wanted to let words that would more than merely tarnish the reputations of many people. A smirk crossed her lips as she thought of other possibilities; she could contact the Seraph, the wizarding equivalent of shows like E! True Hollywood Story. There could be book rights, movie rights...her name in the papers... Shaking her head, she stood and walked over to the sink. She could never do that...or could she?
No, no, she couldn't...It was tempting, though. It would "pay him back" for all of the torment that she had gone through. She could even drag that wench, Demeter, into this... It would give her fame...get her out of a dead- end job that she positively hated...No, no...that was wrong...
She looked up as she heard a knock on the door. Shaking her head, she lit up another cigarette and, fully prepared to magically castrate whoever dared bother her at this hour (It was probably that annoying steward), glanced into the peep-hole. Well, insert an (expletitive deleted) here, it was Orlando Corvello Lorenz. She snatched her blue satin bathrobe off of a nearby chair, hurriedly putting it on over her clothes and making sure that her tank top wasn't peeking out from underneath. She set the cigarette down in the ash tray and ran a hand through her hair, offering an agitated 'Be right there!' to the person behind the door.
Looking back at her dishelved stateroom, she opened the door just enough so that she was fully visible. Her frame blocked the remainder of the view into her room.
"Do you mind?!" she hissed, "You can't come in right now...I've got company."
She put emphasis on the last word to show that it was, indeed, that kind of company. Tilting her head to the side, she took in his distraught appearance with a strong animosity in her eyes.
