Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne.
Chi-Town NightsChapter 6:
The Inspiration Cha-Cha
She had told him to splash it all out on the canvas. "Paint all the words in your head," Lani had told him. But the girl was one pineapple short of a Pina Colada, he knew that! Yet there he stood, a can of red paint in one hand and a brush in the other, staring at another blank canvas.
Damn white canvases! Why didn't they come with things already painted on them? Because they were white canvases. Stop it Van! Focus! He shook his head fiercely as though to rid him of the unwanted thoughts. Concentrating on his brush strokes he slowly began to fill the picture with words. As he worked he found that images were forming as well, but he did not pause to contemplate them.
An hour passed, and then another as he started on a second, placing an empty canvas before him to replace the one finished. The night hours passed into the morning. He had barely noticed when Hitomi had walked in with a teacup in her hand. Nor did he realize that he had taken the cup from her in one hand and downed its contents all the while painting away, in yellow this time. It was a half hour or so after he had finished the cup that he began to feel the affects of the herbal tea and brandy.
Spraying a sealant on his fourth work he drew the back of his hand across his forehead. He stepped back, placing the sprayer on the floor. Removing his mask he eyed the painting wearily. Then with a yawn he shrugged and mumbled to himself under his breath. As he stumbled to the door he ran a hand through his hair, scratching his bare stomach at the same time. The room flooded with dark as he flipped the switch by the doorway.
He wouldn't remember falling into bed, practically snoring as soon as he hit the pillow. Nor would he recall his girlfriend pulling the covers over him, and kissing his cheek. The giggles would fall on deaf ears when she wiped the paint from his forehead with a wet washrag. He wouldn't even feel it as she moved from the bed beside him to quietly exit.
***
At ten thirty the sun was shining brightly, though it did little to dispel the chill of the wintry air. Little light shown in his art room, however because of its lack of windows. Adjusting her jacket, Hitomi stepped into the room, flipping the light switch. She smiled taking in the three portraits leaning against the wall. Her heels sank into the plastic and carpet as she walked over to the easel. Stopping in front of it her eyes calmly scanned over the yellow paint filling the canvas with icons and words.
Cherish. Stifle. Ribbon. Memory. Failing. Temptation. Destiny. Columbia. Far. Unwelcome. Sailing. Aerosmith. Lilies. All these words scattered across the work, some hanging upside down, or crammed in corners. Others were tiny, in cursive writing, wavered letters, or bold print. It was a tangled array of letters and imagery. A flower bloomed from the word Columbia, as clouds hovered over Sailing. Unwelcome was engulfed in dust rising from a cracked ground while Memory dripped with fat raindrops. Wings spread from the S and the E on Stifle. The word Lilies was shrouded in cacti budding with flowers. And within the D of Destiny a pink pendant stood, the chain of the necklace surrounding the other letters.
Hitomi traced the word Destiny lightly with her fingertip, her other hand wrapping around the charm of her necklace. It was a lapis lazuli teardrop framed in silver. It had been a gift from Van, he had made it in his Crafts class his senior year of high school. He had said that it represented the sorrow he had felt in Gaea. He told her that it was the sadness of losing so many he loved, the destruction of his homeland, and the year rebuilding his kingdom without her. Like her pendant that he wore, it symbolized the past; their trials together and the people they used to be. It was an exchange of burdens, regrets, and childhood dreams.
With a sigh, she turned toward the wall to observe the other portraits. She hadn't squatted long by the pictures when her watch beeped, reminding her of the time. She groaned looking at the watch as she rose. Taking one last glance at Van's work she turned and headed for the door. She cursed under her breath as she gazed again at her watch, briskly walking down the hall. She'd be late for Calculus.
***
Listening to the vocals of Selena y Los Dinos mingled with Lani's own sweet voice he knew she was happy. He smiled as he recognized the voice of Estrella's morning D.J. The zesty scent of Chorizo filled his nose as he rolled onto his side to look at the clock. She was cooking. She was in a good mood. Sighing he laid back inhaling the smells of her perfume permanently entangled in the sheets and the fragrance of the breakfast she was preparing. It was a good day to have woken up.
He walked into the kitchen clad in only black sweats, to see her salsa dancing in front of the stove. He smiled at the recognizable rhythm of her steps. She swayed to the music even as she pushed the spatula about in the fry pan steaming with the spicy "meat". Of course it wasn't really meat, if it had been she'd have tossed the food, plus pan into the trash. It was a soy imitation of the Mexican sausage product. She wasn't as picky as a vegan, but still she refused meat and most food with animal by-products. A Lacto-Ovo Vegetarian she called herself. At that very moment she was pouring a dish of mixed eggs into the fry pan. When her cell phone rang she didn't even bother turning down the volume on the stereo on the counter near her. Of course anyone calling her cell phone would expect to be bombarded by the music anyway. Folken frowned in annoyance as he stalked toward the couch where he picked up her cell.
"Yes?" He answered
"Lani? No, this isn't Lani! Who is this?" A woman asked. Her accent was clipped and fast paced. He frowned. He answered her cell phone a number of times, and could usual recognize the caller. This woman was unfamiliar to him.
"Please, hold on one moment." He replied, and then took the phone from his ear walking up the steps into the kitchen. Handing her the phone he kissed her cheek, and murmured something quietly in her ear. She smiled, letting the spatula rest on the side of the pan so that she could turn to him. Wrapping her arms about his neck she kissed him. His arms circled her waist, lifting her from the floor as he warmed his lips against hers.
"Hello? Hello?" The woman's muffled voice came from the phone pressed against his shoulder blade. Lani pulled away from his mouth to laugh, and put the phone to her ear, holding to his neck with one hand.
"Yeah?" She answered with a smile. He still held her above the tiles of the floor placing light kisses on her neck and collarbone. He looked up at her face seeing the puzzled frown.
"Ma?" She questioned, the surprise obvious in her voice. Folken's eyebrows drew together as he slowly placed her on the floor. In all their time together he had not known Lani's mother to contact her daughter at all. He stood silent, watching her face for her reaction.
"Ugh- yeah… Where are you, Ma?" She glided out of his arms to turn down the radio. Talk about strange behavior. Even if she couldn't hear a word the person on the line said, she never turned the radio down. "Why?" She gasped suddenly, then calming she said, "What? Oh… Not since my birthday last year… Nah… Uh-huh… But that's not-" She paused biting her lip, picking up the spatula again. She absently stirred the contents of the pan, continuing to gnaw on her bottom lip. "Right," She nodded, "If that's okay… Well then where are you staying?" She moved the pan to an unlit burner, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder.
Turning off the lit burner and picking up the pan she sighed, "Okay… No, I'm not mad… Well that's your decision, Ma. I'm- no… Alright… Yes!" Setting the pan on a trivet on the butcher block she shook her head irritably.
When she had hung up she growled shaking the phone as she looked down at it accusingly. She rolled her eyes, and took a breath, her face relaxing into a still expression, looking completely unaffected by the previous conversation.
She met Folken's eyes emotionlessly and shrugged, "She's coming in for a few days. She'll be staying with my Aunt in A-Town." Opening a drawer she took a fork from it and shut it with her hip.
As he watched her take a bite he asked, "Does it upset you?"
"No," She chewed on the fork thoughtfully, "I don't care. It's just that you know, I haven't talked to her since like '99, and she just calls. I mean she's on a plane, on her way here. I just- I don't know. It's weird is all. I don't know, it's just crunchy, ya know?" Forcing a laugh she shrugged again, unable to meet his eyes. She stared at her hand absently as she tapped the prongs of her fork in the bottom of the saucepan.
"Is she planning on seeing you?" He asked after a moment, stepping close to her. Lani sighed dropping her fork as she shook her head looking toward the ceiling.
"She said she'd call." She replied pursing her lips. Placing his hands on her shoulders he gently pulled her towards him. She immediately wrapped her arms around his middle, laying her head against his chest.
"I hope her flight crashes." She mumbled, and then quickly reached toward the butcher block, rapping her knuckles against the wood. A ghost of a smile flitted to his lips as he sighed silently. He knew as well as she did that once she met with her mother everything would be okay. It was just the way things went for her and her mother.
"You're late for class again, Yaya." He informed her gently.
"Don't care." She answered closing her eyes as she squeezed tighter to him. They could be frozen that way for several minutes before either moved. It was just the way things went between them. Not uncommon, these moments were welcomed escapes from thought. There need be no words, or even thoughts about one another. Why ruin a perfect "Kodak Moment" with trivialities? But sometimes adding to the moment isn't bad. With little thought, Folken swept her up into his arms, cradling her light frame with ease as he headed toward his room.
Her eyes still shut against the world, she smiled, "I'm late for class again, baby."
"Don't care." He responded kneeling on the bed as he carefully dropped her among the blankets and pillows. She laughed her eyes flying open to look into his fire lit eyes. He looked down at her, his lips forming a taciturn smile. Chuckling quietly he leaned down toward her ear.
"Te quiero." He whispered in her ear in a husky voice. His Spanish accent was perfect, and chilling because of his already charming voice. Indeed that one phrase murmured in her ear sent a myriad of shivers down her spine, so that she took a soft breath.
"Yo say." She teased grinning as she laughed. Cupping his cheek in her hand she said, "I love you."
He smirked mischievously, "I know." This sent her reeling with more laughter, even as he lifted her slightly to tug at the strings at the back of her gown. She fell silent to sigh contentedly, making no move to stop him when he pushed the straps from her shoulders, sucking gently at her neck. As her hands made slow patterns up and down his back, his fell to her thighs resting on the satin. When she forced him to look at her he grinned at the look in her eyes and pressed his lips to hers. Passion awakened in both of their minds they hungrily kissed one another, their eyes closed. His hands moved the cloth of her gown upward and he could feel it when she giggled against his lips.
*November 30, 2002
2:42 P.M.
Folken Lacour De Fanel
Folken Lacour De Fanel I guess it'd be a little too cliché if I wrote about the way she looks when she sleeps. At least Lani seems to think it's cliché, and that's one thing she hates "with a passion", as she puts it. Being anywhere close to the point of normalcy bothers her. Which is understandable, after all, the girl is named after a beach in Hawaii. And as her name is unique so is her incredible character. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that I happen to be the most out of place element in her life. I'm probably the most unstable element in her life as well, other than the ever-absent members of her family, of course. But unlike them I have never walked out a door and never looked back. True, there've been times when I've walked away from her, but never have I not tried to reconcile with her.We met at her cousin's quincenera in a forest preserve near the town that Merle now lives in. I was helping Hitomi's class with a science experiment (she'd recommended me for the job). But when I saw Lani dancing, I stopped what I was doing, which so happened to be taking water samples from the Fox River. The energy with which she danced warned me that we would be no good together, that I was too stoic to suit her personality. Yet, I couldn't look away, and when she caught my eye as she sketched an elegant turn, her slitted black dress whirling, I still found myself unable to move. The moment was for but a second, before she was fully concentrated on her steps again, however just that one look had sparked something more than any words that might pass between us. I was startled, yet strangely calm despite my inexperience with women. When the song had ended she walked straight for me, smiling as though she'd known me forever. She stopped in front of me, leaving only a step between us portraying to anyone who noticed us that we shared some sort of intimacy- a kind of relationship. I was rather speechless, and could only glance over her head to catch the cold stares of several men at the party. She laughed softly, knowing immediately why I looked so uncertain. Her laughter caught me off guard, so that I looked down at her with a kind of questioning look in my eyes. Lani spoke in a low tone introducing herself and explaining to me that most of the men were family and that the others were friends.
Her exact words were: "I'm Lani, and those guys giving you dirty looks are my uncles and cousins. Some are friends, but they can kiss off because they're full of shit." She smiled and I knew I was enchanted.
She went on to explain that she needed to get away from them all, and that she wanted me to pretend I was her boyfriend. So very like herself, she took my arm and pulled me toward the crowd before I could protest. She whispered to ask me my name and I told her it, adding that I was no actor.
She shrugged lightly, tossing me a coy smile, "No, you're my boyfriend, Folken."
Contrary to my nature I played her game as best I could and when it was done she left with me. For the rest of the afternoon she walked with me, helping me with experiments and asking questions about me. The class was bewildered by her sudden appearance and she told them she was a colleague of mine. I'm sure most of them guessed that wasn't true by the way she was dressed. She was pleased to be of help to the students, and when no one else was willing to wade into the water to retrieve a girl's purse, it was her who took the plunge in her formal clothes. I was rather amazed by her, though appalled by her audacity at the same time. I was even more surprised that she could get a response from me and even make me laugh. At the end of the evening the students piled into their cars and went home. I took Lani home. I remember it so well because she smiled, kissed both my cheeks in the European fashion, and slipped out of the car, leaving her number as well as her scent in the passenger's seat. It was a week before I forced myself to face my thoughts about her, analyze them, and realize I wanted to call her.
She said to me that women like her mother can't be tied down, and that she fears that that same spirit may make her into an identical woman. Though I see that will in Lani, I know that she is not her mother; she is far too compassionate. But that restless nature is strong in her, and sometimes I wonder if I'm a bit too demanding. She's very capable of fending for herself, after all when one has survived poverty in this city one tends to learn rather quickly how to endure alone. But she hasn't always been in a safe state of mind. After being placed in a foster home when she was sixteen, she ran away and when she was found was institutionalized. Her story of the place appalled me. I've come to see that at times her mind is still a very fragile prison for her. Sometimes I fear for her when she's lost to the depression that can sweep her up at any moment, placing her in a chokehold she can barely escape. I've never met any quite as delicate or strong. I know her story, the one about how she came to be the person she is, and how she'd lived on the streets. But that story isn't meant to be typed out on a computer, nor would it be proper to set it to paper, because truly, her life means much more within my heart. The emotion behind it is greater than anything I can type out onto this screen. I think I meant to remind myself of what its like for her to dredge up memories of her family. It was a rather futile effort. Maybe looking at her life, I feel a bit better about mine. But then, neither of our stories is entirely tragic. Tragedy is much more simplistic.* Author's Note: Is it just me or does the title for this chapter sound like an ep. of Cowboy Bebop? Please review!