A/N: Hiya guys! Thanks so much for your reviews, I really appreciated them. Lol, and I'm an authoress, by the way, and the Shuin plushie offer is much coveted and appreciated. xP I'm really really really really sorry about how long it's taken me to upload this chapter; would you believe I've actually written up to Chpater 4 right now? But it's all on paper, and its the transfer of the chapters onto computer thats taking ages. I'll try and upload the next one ASAP. In the meantime, enjoy and forgive. This chapter is much longer, and a little scrappy too; it's just how they meet. ;; Sowwy!
Chapter 2 – Dangerous Discussions
Here's where she meets
Prince Charming,
But she doesn't know that it is him
Till chapter three...
-Beauty and the Beast
Lenne tried hard to hide behind Uncle, to go unnoticed like she almost always managed to. But they would not allow her to, and her tall frame was ill concealed by the little man. She hurriedly ran her fingers through her hair, hoping it wasn't too disheveled. It almost constantly was- long hair was so hard to manage.
Unbidden, a memory floated up…
"Lenny can be the witch!" laughed the boys, pointing at her. "Go on, Lenny. Open your hair! It looks really witchy then!" It happened every time they tried to enact out a play, a childish amusement not yet out of fashion. Lenne was always the witch, and that mean Fiola with the silky, shiny, perfectly straight hair was always the princess.
Lenne parted her mass of unruly brown hair, and her lower lip stuck out unconsciously. "Why do I always have to be the witch? It's not fair!" she cried out. But they always had an explanation…
"Your hair's scary; why don't you cut it?"
"Hairball!"
"Your dress is always dirty- at least Fiola's is clean!" This from Fiola's posse.
"My mama bought me a new dress yesterday," inserted Fiola with her nose in the air and a triumphant smile for the glowering Lenne. "Mama says she doesn't want me to …to…ass-so-shiate-" pronounced with some difficulty "-with you. You're poor, and your mama's bad."
Smack!
Lenne's palm connected solidly with Fiola's right cheek. "No one says anything about my mama!!!" Lenne's hair stuck out in tufts now, giving her a particularly wild and witchy look. Her hand returned to the other cheek.
By this time, Fiola had burst into tears, and the other children were gazing, stupefied, at Lenne in a mixture of shock, thrill and fear. After all, it was Fiola who was getting slapped-not them. But both the boys and Fiola's little posse would comfort her later all they could, eager to get a smile from those rosy little lips…oh, so rosy! Or perhaps, it was Fiola's red, tear-stained cheek that appealed to them, or the bright blue eyes.
"Now you can be rescued all you want, Princess," was Lenne's departing shot.She had stalked away then, head held high and shoulders squared. The posture remained until she was out of sight. Once far away from the playground, she crumpled down, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Her hair was now flying wildly all over.
Her bare feet ran over the gravelly road without flinching. She had done it before, after all. She ran straight to the tumbledown little room she called Home. It was, in reality, an unused storage room, long forgotten by the owner.
Mama was there, patiently watching something from her position lying down on a pile of moth-eaten rugs. Lenne never discovered what that something was. Mama was alert, though. Her eyes flickered to the forlorn little figure slinking in immediately. "Darling? What's the matter?" she asked in a soft, gentle voice.
She was dying- plagued by sickness after sickness, obtained from sleeping on damp floors, in dusty rooms and in generally unhealthy and filthy conditions. She knew it, but Lenne did not, and would not for a while yet. In the meantime, behind those patient eyes hid regret, betrayal and self-loathing, with a deep shade of bitterness. There was also love in there, love for someone lost. But who?
She would never forgive herself for bringing her daughter into such places, to put her sweet, innocent child through such filth and danger.
"Boys!! Mean…cruel…said…witch!! Fiola! Said-said…you-y-y bad!!" choked out Lenne brokenly. "I hit her! I hit her, mama! She said her mama said you were bad! I hate her! And-and, they all called me a witch, because of my hair!" She flung herself face down next to mama, her shoulders quivering.
So she never saw the bittersweet smile that spread across her mothers face.
Boys. Naturally. Little Lenne was growing up. Her mama sighed. Boys weren't evil monsters with cooties whose sole purpose in life was to be 'tagged', anymore…
"Mama, can't I cut my hair?!" came the muffled request.
Mama sighed again. She had had this before. "I told you darling. You can cut it off if you want to. I won't stop you. But you must know that your hair is beautiful, no matter what any boy says. You just don't realize it. Didn't you ever hear the story of Rapunzel?"
And so it would go; Lenne now listening rapturously, hoping one day this fairy-tale would be hers, boys and hair forgotten. She vowed to keep her hair nice and long, just like Rapunzel…
Not now!
Lenne hurriedly pushed the thoughts out of her mind, and reburied the pain that came with them. Not now. There was a man standing in front of her. What was he saying? "Wonderful, really! I really enjoyed it; surely you'll hold another one, soon? You must, you simply must! Your uncle tells me that you write some songs…why don't you perform them??" When Lenne processed what he was saying, she took his hand gratefully and shook it.
"Thank you, I certainly hope to hold another concert! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!" she said rather shyly; but with no less sincerity or gratitude. Now that she had gotten over her stage fright, she had to get over the aftermath. And this was only the beginning…
It was twelve minutes later and after shaking virtually every hand in the room that Lenne was able to pause and take a deep breath. The attention wasn't on her anymore, and everyone in the room was holding a private conversation with someone else. Just to be safe, though, she took refuge before the potted plants, whose leafy fronds hid her from view.
I'm so glad that all of them were so nice about my concert! Everyone! – "…so late? I'm sick and tired of this! You're always…"- I wish I could do something nice for them all! – "…ok? Dude, just chillax! What are you so damn tight about, man? Geez, I was just a little late, not…" –So loud...who is that? – "…your father, young man! Show some respect! You're hopelessly spoilt, and I…" – I'd better go…they seem to be somewhere nearby!- "…you can't stop me from playing, dammit!!!"
Lenne quietly moved back into the crowd, wondering about the conversation had kept intruding into her thoughts. Suddenly feeling a little lost, she searched for Uncle's face- it was her anchor. Before she could complete her search, however, she was pounced upon.
"Dahling!" The voice seemed to come from a mass of pink silk, glittering diamonds and fluffy white feathers. Lenne blinked to clear her head and to get those irritating feathers away. And as for someone who flung themselves at you exclaiming "dahling", she could think of no reply. Her mouth hung open, as she struggled to find the right words.
"Dahling!" the little, stout woman cried out again rapturously. A few seconds later , Lenne gave up trying to find the right words. Instead, she smiled inanely. It must have worked, for the little woman ploughed on at great speed. "You were wonderful, dahling! I blubbered like a baby during your rendition of "Vendetta"! Where have you been hiding all these years?"
Lenne felt it prudent to begin with at least a "Thank you very much!" Does she ever run out of italics? Or for that matter, does she ever stop? "I'm so glad you-" But here she was cut off, for the little woman had emitted a loud squeal.
"There you are!" She was looking in the direction of the general crowd, so Lenne could not tell who exactly she was talking to. Then turning to Lenne: "Dahling, you must meet him! Just a second!". With that, she hurled herself into the crowds bravely, elbowing several people and leaving behind a gaping Lenne.
What on Rhea? Steadying herself with a deep breath, she resumed her search for Uncle almost as if nothing had taken place. And she found him- watching her with a wine glass in his hand and an amused smile on his face. He had seen the whole exchange. She shot him an indignant look, and shrugged a little. It's not funny!
As suddenly as before, lightning struck. "Here he is, dahling!" came the jubilant call. The little woman reappeared out of throng, dragging behind her…him. The blond boy.
He let himself be pulled through the milling people. It was so much easier…Resistance is futile! He barked at himself in his own mind. Oooh crap; too many video games…Suddenly he lurched round a corner and found himself face to face with the starlet herself-Lenne.
Her eyes were wide open in a startled fashion, and her lips parted ever so slightly. He also grabbed a moment to admire her extremely long lashes. Pretty, but a bit of the innocent-naïve girl types, eh? She's probably pretty boring. He quickly lost interest and fell to disengaging his arm from Madame.
"Dahling, this is Shuin. Shuin, I'm sure you know who Lenne is!" gushed Madame, playfully pushing Shuin towards her. Shuin almost stumbled under her force, but he maintained his cool composure.
"No, Madame! I have no idea! Who is she?" he asked innocently, just to tease Madame a little. A playful grin flitted across his face as he spoke. Madame gave a little giggle and pushed him again.
"Silly boy! Don't play games like that with me, Shuin!" she squealed, beaming brightly all the while at him and Lenne.
"How do you do?" Was it just him, or was the little starlets voice ever so slightly…icy? Shuin now eyed her warily, and gave the extended hand a brief shake. He was mindful of Madame's gaze watching every little exchange.
"Cool, thanks. How 'bout ya?" Smooth, Shu, very smooth. Just play it cool.
Just then, Madame made a noise like a chocobo having its neck strung, which startled them both considerable. He and Lenne could only gape as Madame rushed off back into the crowd.
And now he was stuck all alone with someone who could give the Abominable Snowman a run for his money.
Sighing mentally, he turned to face her. This so ain't my day. Sometimes, life just gets its kicks out of screwing me. She, however, was still watching Madame with a slightly dazed look on her face. Shuin didn't blame her; Madame had that effect on most people.
"Who on Rhea is she?" murmured Lenne to herself, eyes riveted onto Madame. After idly wondering for a second if he should answer that, he spoke.
"Don't take the name of Yevon's disciple in vain!" he said reproachfully, his eye large and sorrowful. He had every intention to goad her into anger. He liked to start as soon as possible.
Her liquid brown eyes flew to him wrath. "I just so happen to be a Summoner of Yevon, and I don't need you giving me advice!" she snapped.
Well, well, that went off well. I can tell we're the best of friends now! So she's a Summoner, eh?No wonder…stodgy old freaks. They think they can bloody save the world, but they're only flesh and blood like the rest of us!
Rolling his eyes, he returned to the subject at hand. "That," he said jerking a thumb in Madame's direction, "Is Madame Cherie. It is so typically her not to introduce herself to you!" He rolled his shoulders and put his hands behind his head. Just to galvanise Lenne even more, he began whistling loudly, reveling in the glares both Lenne and everybody else shot at him. "Honey, you should've made that face on stage. People would've gotten their money's worth then. Paying to see a Cactuar with a toothache…"
His only reply was a strangled noise and he grinned. Too easy! Maybe this evening isn't a total waste!
Lenne honestly did try hard to conceal the infuriated noise that erupted from within her, but to no avail. He called me a Cactuar with a toothache! Then she frowned. There seemed to be a problem with the statement. "Do Cactuars even have teeth?" she asked him confusedly. "Because I've never seen one in the pic-"
He turned to face her with that perpetual sneer hanging on his face. "Why don't you look in a mirror, dahling?" Lenne took a deep breath. She took three more deep breaths, and giving him one last glare, she stalked away with what dignity she could muster.
That…that-it seemed like Lenne was about to break her policy on swearing-bastard! From the very beginning with his stupid attitude he's been annoying the Yevon out of me! "Are you sure you aren't a machina?" The infuriating voice broke through her angry thoughts. Without turning around, she gritted her teeth. Apparently this Shuin was going to be stuck to her all evening, with the mission of getting himself killed.
"No, I am not a machina. I do not like you." She spun to face him, hand raised, on the verge of Summoning. It would tire her later, but right now it seemed like a good idea.
He didn't know it, but his stomach saved him. Happily he pointed towards the long, elegant-looking table where many people were already seated. "Food!" he cried joyously. "C'mon man! I am so starved!" Before Lenne could open her mouth, he had rushed off towards the table, leaving Lenne open mouthed once more. Why is everyone here tonight so weird? Mentally sighing, she trudged off behind Shuin. What a long day; all I want to do is go home and sleep!
By now, most of the people had sat down, and she noted sadly that one of the few available seats was opposite Shuin, who was trying to hurry a poor waiter into the bringing the food. This time, she sighed out loud. "I sorry, sir! I no can do that! Food no yet ready, sir!" protested the poor waiter weakly. His accent sounded Calopian.
"Stop harassing the waiters!" she exclaimed as she sat down. "Haven't you ever eaten before?" Shuin threw her s sour look and the waiter hastily and gratefully made his escape.
"It's pretty obvious you've eaten before…you look like an over-inflated Bomb, and that's saying something!" he shot back at her. Blinking, Lenne bit her lip angrily. But…am I really that fat? Outwardly, she put a scowl on her face and gave him the full benefit of it. What the hell are Bombs, anyway?
"Shut. Up." It was said though gritted teeth.
That familiar sneer snaked its way onto his face, again. "Don't flatter yourself, darling. We aren't all going to rush to do her ickle songstress' bidding." Crossing his arms and shutting his eyes after blowing out a loud breath of air, he fell back into the chair. The soups began to arrive.
Lenne gave up her battle with him. It was just no use! I hate him…why is he being so rude, anyway? What did I ever do to him!? She began attacking her soup with a ferocity not unlike the last moments of a blitzball match between the Zanarkand Abes and the Calopian Capoes. Since her amiable friend for the evening was too busy eating to converse-If he knew how to!-politely with her, she idly listened to scraps of other conversations round the table.
Madame Cherie was bombarding her latest victim: "Oh, dahling, I do love this soup so! What is it? Oh, Felidine, naturally. I do so enjoy a good meal!" That's obvious…Madema Cherie was an example of an over-inflated, walking, talking blitzball- minus the brand logo. Lenne checked herself on that thought; Madame had been very sweet and very nice about her performance. It wasn't fair that she make fun of Madame like this.
Lenne's ears traveled on.
There's Mr Fianca, Uncle's business partner! He came over for dinner last month with his wife, didn't he? How nice of him to come and watch me! She felt aglow with gratitude. "It's true- all the Western Provinces of Spira have begun increasing their machine arms. Zanarkand has, too, for what it's worth," he way saying.
"But how terrible! As if we were going to war!" exclaimed his wife, dropping her napkin in dismay.
"Well, we need to be prepared in case any other country acts aggressively towards us. Vegnazia, for example. We've never had good relations with them, and it's been almost 3 exchanges of fire with them since the Evo." This was entered quietly by Uncle.
"It's ridiculous- each of the Western powers trying to build a bigger and better machine than each other! When will it ever end, I ask!" snorted out a gruff looking man, whose moustaches wheezed out to punctuate all he said. "And in the meantime, our nations are teeming with spies-are you a spy? Eh?" He threw this at the trembling waiter who brought the main course.
Lenne smiled.
Mr. Fianca's wife piped up, having soothed her nerves. "But we have something no one else has: the Sum-"
Lenne was distracted by a loud and hearty burp issuing from opposite her.
"That hit the spot! What's next, man?" Shuin gave the waiter who was serving him a hearty smack on the back. Both Lenne's heart and the waiters did ugly back flips as the dishes on the waiters arm trembled precariously. And both Lenne and the waiter sighed audibly in relief as the dish was steadied.
Lenne turned angrily on Shuin, her patience finally snapping. "Why do have to be such a retard?" she shot at the oblivious idiot in front of her. He blinked at her outburst stupidly a few times, and then that teasing grin reappeared.
"I thought you loved me, Lenne dahling!" He batted his eyelashes at her, and it was not lovable. It made Lenne want to smack his head. He then began to attack his meal once more.
"I could be watching the match right now, instead of this-this…torture!" she muttered angrily to herself. But no, I just have to be stuck with this imbecile for the rest of the eveni-
"What match?" The bright, happy voice cut annoyingly through her thoughts. Lenne almost cried. I can't even talk to myself!
"The blitzball match…" she muttered, hoping no one else had heard. People were always shocked when Lenne said she liked blitzball; she always wondered why. And blitz was something Lenne held very close to her heart, being a die-hard, staunch supporter of the game; something she would not want to discuss with Shuin of all people.
"Blitzball?" Lenne flinched slightly at the incredulous tone of his voice. "Holy-friggin'-Yevon-" Flustered as she was, Lenne had to let out one rebuking "Hey!" at this point, and was disdainfully ignored for her pains. "-you watch blitz? You?"
"Yes…so what?" It was a squeak.
Maybe she's not such a Cactuar after all…Shuin frowned at her. It was still a little hard to process little Ms. Perfect in front of him screaming her guts out a blitzy match. "Nothing, nothing. Just couldn't picture you at a blitz match between the Abes and the Duggles!" He grinned at her, and it was not a teasing, sneering grin.
She looked slightly stunned.
And then she grinned back; a little uncertainly, true, but it was a grin.
He would have rubbed his eyes if he hadn't been eating. The prickly little cactuar girl herself had grinned at him. Would wonders never cease?
He tried to subtly find out more about this phenomenon. Maybe she's lying…I'll have to test her knowledge. "So, what's your favourite team, and who's your favourite player?"
Those big brown eyes of hers sparkled. "The Abes, of course! And Midel is my favourite player! He is just so amazing with the ball!" He nearly choked. Midel? Abes?
"Me too!" he exclaimed, swallowing his food hurriedly. "Midel rocks! Isn't just fantastic? Damn, I wanna play like him!" She then looked at him strangely.
"You play blitz?"
His smile faded and his fork felt heavier. Maybe…maybe I should tell her. Never mind what dad said; dad was friggin' kidding. Right? He gulped once or twice, to ease the butterflies in his stomach. He glanced at the food with a frown; was this really Calopian Curry or just baked butterflies? He shivered at the thought, and turned back to Lenne, who was waiting for a reply expectantly.
"Um…yes. In fact, as of yesterday, I play for the Abes."
There was a smash as a wine glass dropped to the floor, spilling any wine within it. Lenne jumped, and twisted to see who had dropped it,and sodid Shuin. It had been Madame Cherie.
"Oh, Shuin dahling! You never told us you play for the Zanarkand Abes! Since when? But how amazing! To think you never told us!" The whole room was silent now, and everyone was staring at Shuin in awe.
He gave them all a sheepish smile.
"Surprise?"
Lenne watched quietly as everyone congratulated Shuin heartily on his success. He…plays for the Abes? And his favourite player is Midel, too! She didn't feel that anger towards him anymore. In fact, she felt downright curious about this strange boy, who was shyly-shyly!-thanking his well-wishers.
"Oh, um, haha! Thanks! No, I haven't played any games yet! Only got moved up into Team A- that's the main team- yesterday. Short notice, eh? Yeah, haha!" He looked nervous, which Lenne would not have deemed possible had she not seen it.
Slowly, people drifted back to their places, and she heard Shuin sigh with relief as he sat back down. Then she cleared her throat. When he heard the sound, he looked up, surprised, as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"Congratulations!" she said, sincerely. "That's just…fantastic! And to think you let me go on about how much I loved the Abes when you knew that you were a part of it!" She paused, out of breath.
Shuin stole the opportunity to speak. "Thanks."
She stared at him.
Damn…maybe I shouldn't have said anything! He felt awkward, staring at Lenne. He opened his mouth to say something; anything-just to break the silence. But before he could speak, she did.
"You better give me your autograph now! That way, I won't have to fight through mobs later on, to get one! And try and get me Midel's as well, now that he's your teammate!" She laughed, and it was a cute laugh; a bunch a raucous giggles.
Ugh, fuck, what am I thinking?
He flashed his supermodel smile at her. She didn't look dazzled. "Sure, no problemo. Just don't lose it; I'm a very busy person!" He tried to settle in a dramatic pose.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Stuff up!"
"Speaking of stuff up…" He grinned and took a big bite of his food, feeling the separation from it keenly-it was cold now. "So, anyways, don't you think Midel is just awesome when he does that shot…that…"
"You bet! And do you notice the way he gets all his passes? He never misses one! That's just amazing!" babbled the girl excitedly, while he watched her closely.
Huh, who'd have thought tonight would've been bloody…fun.
