o.0.o.0.o
Tharja Grimm's heels clicked on the pristine tile floors of the hospital with little purpose. If it weren't five in the morning, and the halls were bustling with nurses, doctors, families, and patients, she was fairly certain they would part to allow her to pass.
Yes… she had that effect on people, but she was fairly certain that it wasn't out of respect. Even though she tended to avoid social interaction unless it was necessary, preferring to sink into the shadows and shuffle along... Most people typically feared her, but she didn't blame them.
So far, it had been a week since she was called in to deal with a patient in the Witness Protection Unit. The doctor feared trauma after the injuries she endured, the cops feared she was tortured then left for dead… After reading the medical reports, she didn't blame the doctor's decision for calling her in. Her attacker was maliciously ruthless, and if this woman was anything but traumatized… Well then, that'd give her a mind she'd truly like to pick apart.
Honestly, being called in at three AM didn't much bother Tharja. Trauma was prevalent and always happening, so being a trauma therapist often required her to be everywhere at once… Well, that and she didn't exactly sleep much at night.
But she had… run into an obstacle of sorts, outside of the fact that this patient simply refused to talk. No, it wasn't her stubborn patient that was the problem, but rather, the doctor she was sharing her with.
Doctor Libra Scales now proved a rather difficult problem. Not that he was overbearing or pretentious, but rather…
Well, simply put, Tharja had a gift. Ever since she was a girl, she had the ability to 'see' things other people couldn't. No, she wasn't a psychic who sold her abilities for a cheap buck, and she couldn't see or communicate with ghosts. But… she was omniscient, in a way. Her abilities allowed her to sense people, as well as their emotions. Of course, years of learning to control the ability allowed her to suppress it so she wasn't constantly bombarded with every trivial emotion every person sensed.
Now she had such undeniable control, she only 'sees' things, specifically their past, when she has skin to skin contact with someone. But even when she had skin to skin contact with another, she could control her reaction.
Truly, a useful but secret skill that was unique to her and is exactly why she was so good at what she does. She could only imagine the media circus that would inevitably happen if it got out that she was a psychic psychologist, God help her.
But now, she had a new problem. She had encountered something she hadn't encountered before. That doctor, Libra, had overwhelmed her.
Out of common courtesy, she shook the doctor's hand. She may not enjoy social interaction, but she knew when and how to be polite. When she did, however, his past had completely assaulted her mind. Overwhelmed was an understatement, as every joint and limb in her body completely locked, and she was certain she almost broke his hand with how tight she had gripped it. Lighting shot up her arm and exploded in her head, and though she was in no way weak, she was certain she almost screamed.
She only snapped out of it when Libra used his other hand to shake her shoulder. Quickly, she dropped her hand and backed away from him. He spoke of how she reacted, how she stiffened, how she began to shake. He was worried that she was seizure prone and began to pepper her with questions about getting a checkup. She didn't try to correct him, trying to explain what just happened would make him think she was crazy herself, maybe even blocking access from the patient.
So now she was apparently seizure prone, and Libra, the kind hearted fool, was still trying to pepper her with questions about her 'condition'.
Thankfully, she didn't have to work terribly hard to avoid him, as their shifts didn't line up exactly. Plus, if she saw him, he was usually surrounded by other doctors and nurses, discussing this and that with them.
Now her patient, on the other hand, was going to be a whole other load of trouble. It has been a week since she was admitted, and thanks to the hospital's excellent staff- because of course they'd take all the credit- she was now cleared of her physical injuries. The police wanted to have her discharged as soon as possible.
But because this woman has been playing mute- and Tharja knew she was playing because she's worked with those traumatized into muteness before- she still hasn't been cleared mentally. On top of that, she refused to have any physical contact with Tharja, not even to shake her hand, so Tharja couldn't assess her mentally that way. So again, like it has been for the past three days, Tharja's job was to try to get this woman to talk so she could be discharged and placed into the Witness Protection Program.
Tharja reached the room in question easily, though she offered a knock before she strode in. Upon hearing this, the woman turned her head and stared at her stoically. Another reason she knew she was playing mute; were she deaf, she wouldn't have heard the knock, and thus wouldn't have responded.
She knew what was going to happen if this woman didn't start talking soon. They would transfer her to a mental hospital, and Tharja wouldn't be able to get near her then… After all, the psychologists there would have no need for an on call trauma therapist when they had a plethora of 'talented' individuals.
"It's been a week." Tharja stated bluntly, walking in and shut the door for privacy. "Are you going to say anything, or will I have a better conversation with the wall?"
No response. The woman was eyeing her out of the corner of her eye, taking in all of her features, her stance. Tharja had a feeling that she was anticipating what was going to happen next. At this point Tharja had used everything but incentive… And threats.
"Listen." she crossed her arms. "The only reason you're still here is because you're not talking. I know you're just stubbornly refusing to do so, as well. If you're not going to talk, then I have no problem with writing you off to be placed in the Mila Mental Institution. There, they'll keep trying different medications on you until you're acting normally."
The woman slowly lifted her gaze, staring at Tharja intensely. Tharja refused to break her gaze.
"So, may I ask again, for the seventh time this week, what is your name?"
The stare off continued for a minute, perhaps two, but Tharja refused to back down. She could tell that the woman was contemplating what to do, now assured that Tharja was deadly serious. Then the woman broke her gaze with a sigh.
"My name is Panne." she spoke as stoically as she looked. "I do not recall anything else, so don't even bother to ask."
Tharja allowed a smirk to form as she jotted the piece of information onto her clipboard. She began to question Panne further, not really buying her amnesia excuse, but Panne simply answered all her questions with 'I do not recall' or 'I do not remember'. Even still, her mental state seemed good enough.
As she was in the middle of questioning her, there was a knock at the door. Tharja flinched, sensing who was behind the door already. She glanced at Panne, but Panne didn't respond in the slightest, staring stoically ahead. She was certain that Panne wouldn't mind in the slightest if she didn't answer it, but…
"Oh! Dr, Grimm," Tharja couldn't suppress the sigh as Libra opened the door. "I didn't know you were here. I was doing my rounds when I noticed this door was closed… Typically we try not to shut the doors during the day, simply in case there is an emergency and the doctors need to rush in. Sometimes they're holding a lot of equipment and as you can probably guess, it's a struggle to open the door then."
"Yeah, well, as a psychologist, I need to secure the privacy of my patients." Tharja stood, quickly gathering her things.
"Speaking of patients," He walked into the room, glancing at Panne. "How is ours today?"
"Fine. She spoke, her name is Panne, she's ready to be discharged." she quickly brushed past the blond doctor. He shot her an odd look. "Excuse me. I have discharge papers to sign off on."
o.0.o.0.o
When Olivia got her mail on the way out of her apartment this morning, she wanted to go back up to bed, curl up, and cry.
Her rent was going up. Going up so much that simple backup and understudy jobs wouldn't cut it anymore. And it wasn't as if working extra hours as a janitor at the Iris Academy was helping her much… If she wanted any hope of paying it off, she was going to need a good role in this production. All so she could live in her lonely, cold, questionably secure, gray, and cramped apartment.
The idea of taking Virion's offer of living with him was so tempting now. The extravagant man was born with a silver spoon in his mouth… And even though he was flourishing as a popular actor, his parents took care of most all of his expenses, so any money he made would be used for his own pleasantries…
Unlike her own parents. God forbid, they didn't even know that she had rented out an apartment. They thought that she was living in that solitary dorm for the academically elite…
But there was no use in dwelling on it now. She'd just have to hope that she would get a good part in this now renown director's play, and if push came to shove, she could take Virion up on his offer.
With the notice and bills weighing heavy in her bag, Olivia rounded the corner to the theatre, only to see it flooded with actors and actresses. They all crowded around the ticket booth, trying to see who had gotten which part. Not willing to look at the list through the crowd, Olivia instead began to scan the crowd for Virion to ask about rooming with him. Strangely, she couldn't even spot the extravagantly dressed, blue-haired actor.
Lingering at the edge of the crowd, she knew she couldn't just gently push her way to the front. She'd get trampled…
"Hi there!"
Olivia gasped as someone cheerfully tapped her shoulder. Turning to look at who was speaking to her, she saw a redheaded woman with her hair tied tight in a ponytail. She was smiling cheerfully, holding a clipboard and a folder, a pencil tucked neatly behind her ear. In every sense of the word, she was dressed like a woman on a business mission.
Vigorously, she began to shake Olivia's hand.
"My name is Anna Kaufman, and I'm the current marketing director of Feroxi Theatre! Now then, are you a college student? I'm sure you're curious about what's going on here and why all these people are gathered about-"
"U-Um, actually… I-I auditioned for the play here…" Olivia interrupted meekly. "I wanted to see the results…"
"Oh?" Anna tapped her finger to her chin, then snapped her fingers. "But you're still a student, right? Looking to make some extra cash?"
"N-No." Olivia answered. "I'm not a college student. Just an actress s-searching for w-work."
"Oh." Anna sounded a little disappointed, but shrugged. "Aw, well. Say, do you know if there's any popular eateries around here that might cater to college students."
Olivia blinked, then glanced over her shoulder.
"W-Well, the diner across the s-street seems pretty popular."
"Great thanks!" Anna turned on her heel to walk away, paused, then turned back. "Oh, and invite your family and your friends! Spread the word, we appreciate the advertising!"
Then, she began to happily walk across the street. Olivia couldn't help but have her eyes be drawn to the phone in her back pocket, a plush bear charm dangling from it. Of all things to sully such a proper, business-woman appearance…
"Isn't she a strange one, crazy lady?"
Again, Olivia's heart leapt to her throat as she whirled in the other direction. There, she saw the white-haired stagehand from a week ago, the one who helped out with her audition. And just like a week ago, he was grinning, also watching Anna go.
"But with all due honesty, she's not as crazy as you!" he grinned happily, turning to her. "Glad to see you again! How's everything?"
"My name is Olivia and I'm n-not crazy." Olivia tried to speak firmly, but stuttered nonetheless. He blinked for a moment, cocked his head, smile never faltering… Then spoke.
"I still think you're pretty crazy, crazy lady." he said simply. At that, she could suppress the sigh. What, exactly, had given him the impression that she was crazy? She knew she shouldn't really care, since he seemed to be nothing more than a stagehand, but she was frantically reviewing everything she had done in his presence the week prior.
"Um, shouldn't you be inside?" Olivia suggested, hoping he'd go back inside. "Helping with sets or s-something?"
"Huh?" he blinked owlishly at her again. "Now why on earth would I do that? I've been looking for you! Come with me! Come on!"
"W-Wait…!" Olivia exclaimed as he snatched her wrist, yanking her forward and down the alley he had emerged from. She tried shaking her hand free from his, feeling something jolt up her arm, but his grip just tightened as they reached a side door to the theatre. He paused as his hand reached the doorknob, staring down at his hand around her wrist musingly.
He only seemed to snap out of it when she meekly tried to tug her wrist free again. He let out a cackle-like laugh, shaking his head.
"Sorry, sorry. I actually really wanna show you something! You don't mind, do you?"
"B-But I n-need to see what I'm doing in the p-play." Olivia exclaimed, looking back down the alley.
"You've got time!" he insisted, opening the door and dragging her through the threshold. "You're not going to push through that crowd anytime soon. Come on!"
"U-Um…" Olivia stumbled over her words as he dragged her past some other stagehands already busily setting up sets. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw a completely blank, white wall, and they were using brushes to splatter what looked like blood across it.
"Oh, you noticed the blood substitute?" he commented, pausing to shoot a glance at the set preparation as well.
"... I-It's a substitute?" Olivia whispered, watching as the red dribbled down the wall in small rivlets.
"Oh, yeah. Honestly, I think that it would look cooler with real blood, but that poses a health hazard and all that stuff." he waved his hand indifferently through the air. "So I perfected the recipe to make the blood look as realistic as possible. Right now, they're testing it out to make sure the consistency is right."
With that note, he continued pulling her farther back until they hit a narrow hallway. Olivia hesitated at the end, going over what he said. So he must work directly for Henry Crow if he 'perfected' the fake blood… But on the flipside, he wanted to use… use real blood.
Apparently, she hesitated long enough to catch his attention, as he turned back.
"Come on," he gestured for her to follow "The director's and owner's offices are down here."
Swallowing the lump of nervousness, Olivia followed after the strange young man, the sounds of stage hands becoming more and more distant. Finally, they came upon a door with a dry erase marker board on it, Henry Crow written in neat cursive. Without even knocking, he opened the door and strode inside.
"W-Wait…!" Olivia hesitated at the door, finally pulling her wrist free. "Sh-Should we really come in here without Mr. Crows' permission?"
"Oh, it's fine." the young man again waved his hand dismissively. She lingered near the door as the young man crossed the room, whistling a happy tune. Without a care, he opened one of the drawers in the desk, pulling out a pack of paper.
"H-Hold on!" Olivia exclaimed, stepping into the room. "I-I can't-"
"It's nothing~." he sang out, passing a packet to her. "Read this for me."
"What?" Olivia shook her head, eyes flying wide as her hands scrambled with the packet. "N-No!"
"Come on, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?"
"Y-You don't understand, I can't rifle through M-Mr. Crows' p-p-personal things!" Olivia exclaimed, backing away. "I-I-I-I-"
"I'm telling you-"
"I can't afford to lose this job!"
Her shout echoed in the small office and she stumbled back at her own volume. The young man blinked at her in surprise, and she averted her gaze.
"I-I'm sorry…" she whispered under her breath. "I-I-I…"
"I've got some questions for ya, see."
Olivia simply opened her mouth at the 1920's gangster accent that came out of his mouth. It was so over exaggerated that Olivia was honestly taken aback. He simply smiled, looking up from the packet and turning it to her, pointing to a line on the page. Olivia glanced down at the packet in her hands, glancing back at the page number, and flipping to it in a frenzy.
Glancing over the names in the corresponding line he was pointing to, she saw Detective Brian Kitt. So this young man was trying to act out the script…? She felt like laughing in spite of it all. He wasn't even saying the line right.
"Okay." Olivia nodded her head according to the script, meeting the young man's gaze. "I'd be happy to be any help to the investigation. I want to know… I must know who killed Lea."
"Well, ya see, we need yer alibi to place where ya were, see," he continued, still speaking in that horribly off accent. "Then we're gonna make sure it checks out, and if it doesn't, then you'll have to come in for more questioning, see."
"Of course, anything that helps." Olivia said, folding her hands in front of her, closing her eyes, and bowing her head. "I was backstage, practicing for my entrance. Several other actors and dancers were around me. When the power went out, no one was really surprised. This place is old, we assumed it was faulty wiring. But then… someone screamed. I remember several people running into me in a panic, and the producers yelling at us not to panic. I was jostled around for a while, and eventually, I ended up in the right wing entrance to the stage with Len-"
"Len?" the young man cut her off on cue, and Olivia lifted her head, nodding as she stole a glance at the script.
"Yes. Len Todd, he's a fellow actor, most likely waiting for his own entrance to the stage."
"Mmmm-hmmm." he nodded once. "Continue."
"Anyways, the lights suddenly came back on. When I lifted my head, I saw Lea in the center of the stage with… with that knife in her chest." Oliva shuddered openly. "God, there was so much blood. Immediately, there was an instant panic. The audience, the stagehands, the dancers… Everyone was screaming and running every which way. The producers immediately closed the curtains and tried to calm the situation while we evacuated… And I just froze."
She buried her face in her hands, desperately trying to choke back her sobs.
"Len had to drag me away. I'm so ashamed that I froze like that… I just can't… I just can't believe that Lea is dead."
"I see, I see…" he trailed off. "And nobody were actin' suspicious before the crime?"
"No, sir."
"Did you see anything suspicious?"
"... I couldn't tell you if I did." Olivia lifted her head, wiping her eyes. "It's opening night. Everything was a little hectic and I could barely keep track of my own role and lines, let alone anyone else. I personally didn't see anything that struck me as odd or off…"
"I see, I see…"
With that, he slammed the script down on the desk, causing Olivia to jump. She glanced at the script in her own hands again. Not seeing the indicator in the script, she looked back up at him.
"Wh-What was that?" Olivia asked, unintentionally clutching the script to her chest as she stumbled back.
"That," he was still speaking in that accent, head bowed over the script, when suddenly, he snapped his head up with his bright grin. "Was the sound of your victory, crazy lady!"
He strode across the office, took one of her hands in both of his and began shaking it vigorously.
"Wh-Wh-What are you talking about?" Olivia exclaimed. He dropped her hand, placing both of his hands on her shoulders.
"I'm talking about my play! My lead role! My star! Olivia Kelley, you're my Willow!"
"L-L-Lead?" Olivia asked. "St-St-Star?"
As he dropped his hands, she flipped to the first page of the script, where it outlined the characters. Willow Hammerstein…
"Th-Th-The m-m-main female l-l-lead?!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "No. No, there has to be some sort of mistake. You… You've gotten the wrong girl, Mr. C-Crow wouldn't want s-someone like m-me as his lead…"
"On the contrary," he spoke with a grin. "I don't think I could've picked anyone better."
"... I…?" she echoed, slowly trying to connect the dots.
"... Didn't I tell you my name?"
Olivia shook her head, and the young man let out a laugh.
"Oh, I'm Henry Crow, your director, screenwriter, and as of now, your acting coach!"
"... Director… Screenwriter…?" Olivia echoed.
"And your own personal acting coach!"
Olivia was fairly certain that her brain just short-circuited right there. She knew that the supposed Henry Crow was young, but he looked no older than her, and he was already rather acclaimed in his field. Maybe the skepticism showed on her face, because… Henry pulled out his wallet, casually showing his drivers license. It showed his picture, his name, and his date of birth. He was born in November of the year before her… So he was the same age as her.
"It's always a little surprising. I don't know why people react that way though." Henry shrugged, tucking his wallet away. "Anyways, you've got what it takes to be Willow, but you've got a long ways to go before you can believably convince an audience that you're a reliable narrator while also actually being the most unreliable narrator they've ever seen! That's why I'm gonna help you, so your performance will be a CAWtastrophic success!"
o.0.o.0.o
Panne chose to remain completely silent as she sat in the back of an unmarked police cruiser. Driving was the bald man who introduced himself as Captain Basilio Fortier. In the passenger's seat was the detective who was interrogating her earlier, Flavia Kaplan. And finally, sitting as far away from her as possible, was a man who was maybe around the same age as her…
"... And let me tell you, you won't meet a more hardworking man in Ylisse!"
Apparently, his name is Lon'qu Himura, police officer in training and apparently her bodyguard. And she did not get that information from the man himself, no, she got that from Flavia and Basilio's rather… overly informational introduction. Truly, she now knew his full name, his height, how hard he worked, his aspirations, his favorite food...
And not a word of it came from Lon'qu himself.
She, of course, found it rather odd, perhaps even unprofessional of the two, considering this relationship was to remain as clean-cut as possible. But she wasn't going to let it bother her too much. It was clear that Lon'qu had zero interest in her, in any way. Perhaps these two played parent to the young man often, and perhaps Lon'qu didn't get out often enough to give them confidence in his ability to find a partner himself.
Again, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at her soon to be roommate. His entire body was practically pressed against the door adjacent to his seat, and he refused to look anywhere but pointedly out the window. … He was an odd man, certainly. He flinched every time their eyes met, he refused to come near her, and she was wondering what it could be from.
With a name like Lon'qu Himura, he certainly wasn't from this country. Her family line was not either, but that was long ago when they migrated here. Even still, her skin retained the same tanned color that her ancestors had. A part of her wondered if that were his reason… Even though he seemed rather fine with the equally dark, and in the captain's case, darker, Flavia and Basilio. Perhaps he simply respects them or tolerates them out of respect of a superior?
Before she could ponder her hypothesis further, they pulled into a parking lot of an apartment complex. It was simple and uncomplicated; red brick that went up seven stories, black shutters accenting the windows. Uncared for ivy crawled up the side of the building, and there were small flower beds that were littered with flowers.
Basilio and Flavia gestured for them to follow, so Panne grabbed the duffle bag that Flavia had given to her when they left the hospital. In the lobby, they ran into someone who was loitering.
"Raimi! Glad we caught you!" Flavia shook her hand with familiarity. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, she dragged her forward so that she was face-to-face with the bond Raimi. "See, this here is Panne. She's Lon'qu's girlfriend and will be moving in with him."
Panne was fairly certain Lon'qu choked on his own tongue when Flavia said that. He let out a strange wheeze, then began to cough furiously. Panne simply shot him a long, cold look until he was done.
"Girlfriend?" Raimi didn't sound like she believed it. She looked back and forth between her and Lon'qu, then something seemed to click. "Ah, I see."
"Yep!" Basilio laughed, giving Lon'qu a rough pat on the shoulder. "Make sure you keep her safe, yeah?"
"Of course." Raimi nodded once, and with that, Basilio and Flavia were dragging them away again.
"That was Raimi." Flavia explained simply, in a low, quiet voice. "She's a plain-clothed cop that often patrols the area. I wanted to introduce her to you, as she will be monitoring this building while you're here."
"Not that we don't trust you, Lon'qu." Basilio cut in. "But you can't have your eyes everywhere. We're just doing this to make sure your attacker doesn't decide to stalk you or anything."
Panne didn't say a word in response as they continued up the stairs to the seventh floor. The building on the inside was as simple and unremarkable as the outside, colored brown and beige with some color splashed about here and there.
"Well, this is where we part ways." Basilio turned to Lon'qu with a grin. "Take care of her, Lon'qu!"
"You two better behave!" Flavia teased. "We'll be checking on you periodically while we continue to investigate the case."
"Understood." Lon'qu nodded simply, already moving to unlock the door.
"You'll be safe with him." Flavia reassured her, patting her on the shoulder.
"I'd leave you with no better agent!" Basilio grinned. Panne simply nodded, not sure why they were so insistent on trying to reassure her safety. She had taken care of herself relatively well, up until this point…
As Basilio and Flavia left, Lon'qu was already opening the door. Lon'qu stepped inside, holding open the door as indication for her to follow. The apartment was as simple as the building it was in, providing the few necessities for living. There was a kitchen, a small living area with a couch, table, and television, and a hallway that lead to were, assumably, the bedrooms and the bathroom was.
Everything was very pristine and orderly, which in comparison to her brothers' rooms, was unexpected. But unlike her rambunctious brothers… Well, this man didn't seem like the type to put up with any unneeded mess.
The only thing that caught her off guard, however, was the red and blue tape that lined the entire apartment. Side by side, the lines of tape divided the entire apartment neatly in half, from the hallway to the tables… Even the couch was divided neatly in half. She glanced down at her feet, and saw she was standing next to the red line, while Lon'qu was pointedly next to the blue line.
Panne simply turned to look at him, demanding an explanation.
"As long as you're in Witness Protection, you will be living here." Lon'qu explained simply. "Tomorrow, we will go out to get you anything else you may need. Now, with that settled, we have some rules we need to establish."
"Assuming that this has anything to do with the tape," Panne closed her eyes, hoping to swallow the bit of annoyance in her heart. "As it does not strike me as an interior design of choice."
"Partially, yes." Lon'qu answered. "First off, you are not allowed to go anywhere without me, not even to the lobby. Second, when we do plan to go somewhere, you're not allowed to leave my sight. Third, the apartment is divided in half. The red half is your half, the blue half is mine. Do not cross into my half while I am here and do not come near me."
Panne felt her lips part in genuine shock as he said this. He looked deadly serious, and she felt her fists clench in irritation.
"You're Basilio's best man?" Panne couldn't help but snap. "Do you fancy this some sort of game? Can you not see past your racism to do your job? Because I feel that you have very little room to talk, considering you're clearly not from Ylisse."
"This is not a race issue." Lon'qu suddenly affirmed strictly. "It is… a gender issue."
"... So you're sexist, then." Panne stated bluntly. At this point, she felt she would be better off just living on the street, or in the mental ward as Tharja had threatened. At least if she escaped from the mental ward, she could fly under the radar and no one would care to notice. Lon'qu let out an impatient sigh, shaking his head.
"No. I have nothing against the female gender, I just am deathly afraid of them." Lon'qu explained simply. Panne crossed her arms, starting pointedly at him.
"You're afraid of girls." she spoke simply.
"... Yes." Lon'qu looked uncomfortable as he averted his gaze. "Only Basilio knows, but I think he thinks it's a strange phase. Flavia is unaware, but that is only because I cannot become a police officer unless I'm psychologically stable… And that includes free of phobias that would obstruct my progress in the workplace."
"... Perhaps this is a test of resilience then." Panne sighed, rubbing her temple. "What am I to do for places we both have to frequent, such as the kitchen or the bathroom?"
She shot a look back at the kitchen, and didn't see tape dividing anything in half, she glanced back at Lon'qu.
"There's purple tape lining the floor for areas we can both cross into." Lon'qu made a point to lead her towards the kitchen where, just in front of the entrance, was a single line of purple tape. "Same is for the bathroom. If the door is shut, simply knock. The only area you are completely blocked from is my room, whereas I won't enter yours."
With that, Lon'qu turned and went down the hallway. Panne had a feeling he was going into his room, her assumption correct when she heard a door click shut. With little else to do, she herself followed the red tap down the hall until it was cut off at a room. Across the hallway was the bathroom, indicated by the purple tape on the ground, and at the farthest end was Lon'qu's room, as indicated by the blue tape.
Sighing, she herself entered her room and shut the door. There was a small window, a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp, but otherwise, the room was pretty bare. Knowing that Lon'qu most likely did not have many guests, she was probably the first to stay in this room.
This arrangement was going to be odd at its best and downright intolerable at its worst…
o.0.o.0.o
"I refuse."
Lissa sighed as Maribelle stubbornly sat in the back of her driver's car, legs and arms crossed and nose turned up in the air.
"Come on, Maribelle, I promise it's not that bad. It's not like this is in a terrible part of town…"
"Darling, I will do many things for and with you." Maribelle spoke calmly and tactfully, befitting of a teenager who swore up and down that she wanted to be a lawyer one day. "But I simply refuse to pay money for grease ridden slop thrown on a plate."
"Then order a salad." Lissa spoke up. "C'mon, I know that you're not a fan of things like this, but my brother said that it was really good! The owner is also really nice, and apparently already knows Stahl and his friends by name!"
"Any sane man who owns a restaurant would know Stahl by name, going by the rumors of how much he can supposedly eat." Maribelle snapped back.
"Um, hey." the chauffeur suddenly spoke up, turning to look at them in the backseat. "Not to rush you or anything, Miss Maribelle, but your father needs me to chauffeur him to a dinner party tonight. I really need to be on time, so could you please make a decision?"
"You would have to go home to pick up my parents, correct? That is fine, Lissa will simply spend the night at my hou-"
"Maribelle," Lissa dove into her friends window, grabbing her hands out of desperation. "Listen, I'm supposed to be Alissa Juno, right? A normal girl who came here from a small town because she got accepted, and that's why no one has ever seen me around here? Problem is, I don't know what's normal. So maybe if we go to a place where normal people go, I can have a better idea of how to act as a normal girl. Now, doesn't that make sense?"
Maribelle seemed to contemplate that for a moment, giving Lissa a small chance to relax. In truth, just trying to get here was an ordeal in and of itself, woven together under an intricate cover of small white lies. Like how Frederick didn't have to come and pick her up because she was going home with Maribelle. And how Maribelle didn't need to worry about Frederick because he was helping Chrom with homework. And how Emmeryn was a-okay with all of this even though she didn't exactly know where she was right now.
"... That does sound rather logical…" Maribelle admitted slowly, allowing Lissa to sigh in relief. Knowing her friend was always won over by logical arguments, Lissa opened the car door, and Maribelle simply brushed off the skirt of her pink sundress, and stood. Walking to the front, she turned to address the driver. "When will you be available to pick us up?"
"Well, the dinner party ends at nine, and I need to be there at least a half hour early in order to get your parents, Miss Maribelle. So, anytime between six and eight?"
"That'll work!" Lissa grinned, gripping Maribelle's arm. "Thank you so much!"
"Anytime." the driver spoke, tilting his hat to them out of obligation. Then, the two girls back up, allowing him to get out of the parking space, and drive on to continue his chauffeurly duties.
Finally able to turn to the diner, Lissa couldn't help but beam out of excitement. Though it was small, it looked rather quaint, the warm colors of the building only made more welcoming by the plethora of flowers planted around the entrance.
"Come on, Maribelle! Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Lissa bounced on the balls of her feet as Maribelle walked up the lane.
"Dear, do pace yourself. It's simply dinner at a diner, no need to get so overly excited." Maribelle spoke haughtily, but Lissa was struggling to contain her excitement. This place seemed warm and welcoming, and were her life normal, Lissa could clearly imagine her and her siblings eating here with their mother…
Lost in thoughts and memories, Lissa wasn't even aware with how packed the place was until she nearly ran into someone. Stepping back into the waiting area, both she and Maribelle overlooked the restaurant.
It was filled to the brim with a variety of people, all chatting happily and some even singing to music playing over the intercom. One thing Lissa noticed firsthand was that most of the people here were undoubtedly attractive, and most of those attractive people indeed had the ability to sing. And at the head of it all was a grinning, white haired man, perhaps no older than her own brother. He had a wireless mic in his hand, also singing lyrics and seemingly leading the whole ordeal, though he was taking it much lightheartedly, singing with exaggerated gestures and lyrics that maybe didn't quite match the song.
"I don't think that we'll be getting a table, Lissa." Maribelle spoke plainly, viewing the somewhat rowdy crowd with obvious contempt.
"Hi there!"
A girl's voice cut through her thoughts, and Lissa blinked, slowly bringing her gaze down. There, she saw a young, bright-eyed girl that she did in fact recognize. It was Nowi, a girl that Ricken had pointed out to her on their first day. Before she could utter a word, however, Nowi bowed at the waist.
"Greatest apologies! Unfortunately, we're completely booked due to a theatre celebration! But here," Nowi ducked behind the hostess stand and popped up with two slips of paper. Pressing them into their open palms, Lissa realized they were coupons. "Take these and come back tomorrow, and we'll give you a dinner you'll never forget!"
"... Lovely." Maribelle looked at the coupon with distaste, then turned to Lissa. "Well, you heard that correctly, no? It's just so terribly disappointing." Maribelle let out a sigh, then grabbed Lissa's hand, pulling her towards the door. "Come along now, Lissa. I'm sure if we call Joseph, he can come back around and still take us home with enough time to spare-"
"Hey, Donny!" Lissa cut Maribelle off as she made eye contact with one familiar face. Donnel, dressed rather casually in a plain T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, turned his head from the spectacle of the white-haired man singing, then smiled, raising his hand in a wave. However, Lissa felt a deep freeze form next to her. As if Donnel felt it too, he flinched, dropped his hand, and awkwardly looked anywhere but at her. Lissa pouted for a moment, turned back to Nowi. "Excuse me, would it be okay if I go say hi to my friend?"
"Your friend?" Nowi cocked her head, then shrugged. "Sure, why not!"
"Thank you!" Lissa smiled, turning to walk into the crowd, when Maribelle grabbed her arm.
"Lissa, what did Ricken and I tell you about the hierarchy in our school?" Maribelle whispered in a harsh tone. "You of all people can't afford to do something like this-"
"E-Ella, lemme go!"
Donnel's voice echoed over the loud music, coming closer, though when Lissa looked up, he was dragging his heels. Why? Because he was being dragged by an older girl with long, straight blue hair and big gray eyes. Donnel looked fearful, like he was about to be sick, but the older girl was grinning ear to ear, clearly happy to introduce herself, against Donnel's will.
It was only when they reached the two high school girls that she stopped, but kept Donnel's arm in her grip.
"Ella, c'mon…" Donnel trailed off, but the woman, Ella, began to gesture with her hands. Lissa had no clue what had transpired, but when Donnel opened his mouth again, Ella released his arm and put her hands on her hips. Then, she began moving her hands again. Then her shoulders began to quiver, lip pouting, she buried her face in her hands, seemingly crying.
"So you have a habit of making young women cry." Maribelle observed. Donnel snapped his head to her.
"Aw, no! She's just being dramatic, that's all!" Donnel tried desperately to explain. Then, he turned to Ella. "If I introduce ya, will ya stop all this nonsense?"
Ella snapped her head up with a beaming grin, nodding enthusiastically. Donnel sighed in defeat, and Ella latched her arms around his neck. Finally resting her head on his shoulder, she stared at them expectantly.
"Alright, Ella, this is Maribelle," he nodded in her direction. "And Alissa, Lissa for short. They're also students from the academy, Lissa and Maribelle, this is my older sis, Ella."
Ella shot her hand out to shake her hand. Lissa reached out and shook it happily.
"Nice to meet you, Ella!"
"Pleasure." Maribelle spoke curtly, turning her nose away and crossing her arms, a clear indication of not wanting to shake her head.
"So what's going on here?" Lissa asked, deciding to continue the conversation. Ella beamed and, with her arms still wrapped around her brother's neck, began gesturing again. Lissa blinked once, twice, then cocked her head.
"Not everyone can understand ya, Ella." Donnel spoke plainly. With that, Ella playfully smacked Donel on the head, and gestured again with a grin. Donnel simply sighed. "Alright, alright, but I ain't a dummy."
"So…?"
"Ella's mute." Donnel spoke plainly. "Has been since I met 'er. So she signs everything she says, that or she…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Say, where's your notebook, Ella? One of these days, I ain't gonna be here to translate for ya."
Ella rolled her eyes. Releasing Donnel, she began to sign again, then pointing at a purple haired man with sharp features in the back. Despite his sharp features, he, in Lissa's opinion, looked sleepy.
"... That's what Demyan's for." Donnel sighed at what she said, then turned back to them. "Anyways, Ella was tellin' ya that this is all for a big ol' play that's gonna be goin' on at the Feroxi Theatre."
Ella signed again with a big grin, and Donnel's face seemed to get dusted in pink.
"I ain't translatin' that." Donnel spoke simply. Ella pouted. "Naw! Ella, it's embarassin'!"
Cheeks inflating slightly as she sucked in air, Ella turned on her heel and stomped over to the purple haired man that she had pointed out earlier. Within moments, she was dragging him back, a bit more willing than her brother.
"Hey," Demyan spoke, raising his hand sleepily. Ella signed, and Demyan spoke as soon as she finished. "Now Donnel, are you gonna translate for me or not?"
Donnel tensed, looking at Demyan.
"Demyan, c'mon." Donnel spoke, but Demyan smirked a little, then turned back to Ella, who signed again.
"As the owner, I'd be honored to have the pretty friends Donnel's talked so much about at the debut."
With that, Demyan turned on his heel and walked back to his booth, grinning slightly. Ella was also beaming, and Donnel's expression was utterly embarrassed. Maribelle quirked an eyebrow, and Lissa averted her gaze, feeling a small blush rise to her cheeks.
"A-Anyways!" Lissa cut in. "You can understand her, Donny?"
"Er, yeah."
"That's really cool!" Lissa praised.
"Aw, it ain't nothin' special." Donnel murmured, lifting his hat off his head and covering his face. Ella grinned, then tapped him on the shoulder, signing something to him.
"Yup, Ella." he groaned, putting his hat on his head. "You're embarrassing me!"
Ella signed something, then pecked Donnel on the cheek.
"Sorry." Donnel ran his head down his face as Ella grinned. "Yeah, well, it's fine, I 'spose."
Ella clapped her hands happily.
"You mentioned something about a theatre?" Maribelle suddenly inquired. Ella beamed at her, and began to sign again.
"It's the theatre I own," Donnel translated. "We've got a really big director here to feature one of his plays here. So this whole party is 'cause she and the director just settled the cast."
"So this is a casting party." Maribelle spoke plainly.
"Yup."
The conversation trailed off into an awkward silence, when suddenly, Maribelle grabbed her arm.
"Well then. Lissa, we really should be going. It would be terribly rude for us to simply barge in on their party and all. Come along-"
Ella clapped her hands sharply, shaking her head. Then, she turned to Donnel, and began to sign. Donnel shot a hesitant glance at Maribelle.
"Are ya sure 'bout that, Ella?"
Ella simply nodded with a bright grin.
"Well, alright then." Donnel turned back to them, adjusting his cap slightly. "Ella says ya can stay if ya want."
"Really?!" Lissa couldn't help but grin. "Thanks!
"Yes." Maribelle's tone, in contrast to Lissa's, was painfully dull and unenthusiastic. "My gratitude."
o.0.o.0.o
Virion simply could not, under any circumstances, believe that he was late. Him! The Virion Roseanne, the most well known theatre actor in this day in age, the Actorest of Actors, the modern day Richard Burbage, the pride of the Roseanne family… Was running late.
He could hardly believe it himself.
But even worse, judging by the amount of times his phone was ringing, Cherche had noticed his tardiness. Now, Cherche was a great childhood friend, but horribly overbearing and threatening, when she wanted to be. And even worse, she had that devil mutt that had the audacity to call herself a dog. Minerva was an absolute beast, and Virion was fairly certain he had developed some sort of disorder from being threatened or chased by her one too many times.
Finally reaching the diner, he parked his one-of-a-kind sports car, a rather generous gift from his parents, and began to walk towards the diner's entrance. He swiped through his phone with disdain. Most of his messages and calls were from Cherche, but the director, Henry Crow, had sent him a particularly unsettling picture.
Virion, you're missing out! Cherche brought the most adorable little puppy!
And under that text was a picture of Henry, one arm around Olivia and in between them, Minerva. Virion couldn't help but flinch at the sight of the oversized mutt. The rottweiler-great dane mix was panting, tongue lolling out of her effectively hideous snout, followed by bunches of baggy skin covered in fur. Olivia looked exceedingly uncomfortable with the huge beast next to her, and Virion did not blame her in the slightest.
As if to add salt to his wounds, Cherche then sent him a text.
Minerva's here.
Stomach dropping with despair, as he knew Cherche would no doubt set that blasted mutt on him, Virion hid the phone away in his pocket.
About to accept his fate, he was only saved by one thing; a curse.
"Back off, asshole!"
Though Virion knew the rumor of the cat and curiosity, he couldn't help himself. This was especially so, considering it sounded like a lady was in distress. A lady with a rather rough and tumble tongue in her mouth, but a lady nonetheless…
So, ignoring the diner only temporarily, he edged himself around the wall to have a peek at what was going on.
Truly, it was like a scene from a script.
The lady, as beautiful as he had ever seen, with short hair the color of fire on a cold night. Her hair contrasted greatly to her skin, pale as freshly fallen snow. Her eyes, like her hair, blazed like rubies at the situation she was confronted with. Two unsavory and rather large men were cornering her. One had a had around her throat, pinning her to the wall with a knife right under her nose, while another was digging through the backpack that no doubt was hers.
Virion ducked around corner again, placing a hand over his heart in surprise. Truly, Virion had the admiration of a thousand women, almost as many as there were flowers in the field. However, while he adored the attention of females, he himself never felt quite so enamored by one.
He quickly thought on his feet, going around the corner with confrontation in mind. Were this a theatre script, he, the male protagonist and hero, would rush out and save the damsel, thus setting their romance on course.
Already imagining his reward for his courageous and chivalrous deed, Virion made his presence known.
"Halt, fiends!" he exclaimed. Their attention on him, Virion put on his best glare. "As long as I stand, I will not allow you to harm her any longer!"
The two men shot him a look that no doubt would have sent most men running in fear. However, he was not most men, he was the incredible Virion Roseanne.
"Beat it, pretty boy." one spat. "We don't have time to knock you around."
"I refuse." Virion shot back. "There's no need to harm such a beautiful woman. Now then, you can let her go and surrender, or I shall force you to release her."
Now, this is where things went slightly off script. The way Virion imagined it, the thugs would have been shaken to their core by his intense threat, release the dame, and ran screaming into the night. There, Virion would retrieve the woman's bag, offer it to her, and they would engage in a passionate kiss; his reward for saving her life.
However, Virion instead found his head snapping back with intense pain revertibrating throughout his face. With horror, Virion felt something dribble down his nose. Knowing it wasn't mucus, as someone as perfect as him did not suffer from allergies, Virion knew it was blood.
Those men actually had the gall, the gall, to punch him! Him! Virion Edwin Roseanne!
As he was recovering from the shock, the men spoke.
"Ain't so tough now, are ya, prettyboy." one spat at him. Virion sat up, unsure what to do about the blood. He was not one so vulgar as to wipe it on the sleeve of his shirt, but he currently lacked a tissue of sorts…
The same man suddenly kicked him in the chest, pressing him to the ground.
"Check him for a wallet and keys. He seems like the type to be flashy with his money, might have something good on him."
"Now hold a moment-"
Virion found himself miraculously silenced as the other man held a knife under his nose.
"Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you."
"Hey-!"
Virion lifted his head slightly as the other man suddenly went flying back. In surprise, the man pinning him released him, allowing him to sit up. There, Virion saw the woman take on a fighting stance, almost as if she were experienced. The man who pinned the woman stumbled to his feet, but before he could counter-attack, the woman lifted her leg and executed a perfect roundhouse kick to the head, knocking him out.
"Stupid bitch-!" the other man charged, but the woman got back into stance.
Ducking down, her fist lashed out hitting him in the stomach. The man hunched over, then she punched him the jaw, sending him flying into the wall. There was a resounding crack as he hit, and then he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The woman didn't loosen her stand for a good minute, until she knew that they were surely out cold.
"Damn…" the woman shook out her hand, as if in pain. "Why is it that all the dumbasses have such hard heads?"
Taking that same hand, she rubbed the back of her neck, popping it in the process, then dusted off her jeans and her hoodie. It was only then that Virion himself got to his feet. He was not going to admit to gaping, but if those robbers went slightly off script, then this woman just took the script and burnt it to a crisp! Truly, he has yet to come across a woman as absolutely remarkable as she!
The woman had already retrieved her bag, and had her phone out of her pocket.
"Yeah, I think some chick almost got mugged down by Gregor's diner. She got away, but the perps are here, knocked out. Though you might wanna send a cop or an ambulance or something for 'em."
With that, she hung up the phone with an annoyed sigh. Then, she lifted her gaze to Virion, eyes narrowed to slits.
"So are you gonna keep staring at me, or am I gonna have to knock you around like those morons?"
"N-Not at all!" Virion exclaimed. "I must say, miss, that was an impressive display of strength. You've even impressed me, Virion Ed-"
"Yeah, whatever." she turned on her heel, toting her bag over her shoulder. "Gonna be honest, Ruffles. Might wanna skedaddle before the cops come, unless you want them to think you were the chick that almost got mugged."
She turned to walk again.
"Wait!" Virion called out again. The woman groaned, then turned back to him.
"What?" she demanded.
"Might I know the name of a woman as beautiful and astounding as yourself?"
His request was accompanied by a flirtatious smile, and the woman simply narrowed her eyes at him.
"The name's Sully." she grunted to him.
"Ah, Sully, a beautiful name for a beautiful specimen! I am-"
"What did you just call me?" Sully cut him off, turning fully to glare at him.
"Nothing to offend you, I assure you! I would never talk terribly of a woman as lovely as yourself."
"Yeah." Sully rolled her eyes, going into her backpack. "Sure."
"Anyways," Virion cleared his throat. "I am the famous, the benevolent, the most spectacular-"
Virion cut himself off as a towel suddenly wrapped around his face. He sputtered in momentary surprised, pulling it off his face. Staring down at it, he saw it was stained slightly with his blood.
"You look like you've got somewhere to be." Sully spoke simply. "'Cause it isn't like pretty boys like you wander around all the time. So that," she nodded to the towl. "Is my thanks for… failing to help me…?"
Her tone trailed off into a questioning tone, then she shook her head with a scowl.
"Just, whatever. Get out of here before the cops come, Ruffles."
"V-Virion!" he blurted out. Sully shot him an odd look.
"What?"
"Virion. My name is Virion."
Virion certainly expected some sort of reaction from Sully, but not the one he got. Typically, when women heard his name, they squealed and got all excited. But she simply gave him a strange look, then turned on her heel.
"Later, Ruffles."
o.0.o.0.o
Hello once again, everyone! Sorry for taking a bit longer this time, both Amy and I have been busy with real life (adulting is so difficult sometimes), but we've got this chapter up now at least!
Also, starting this chapter, we are setting up our chapter titles as a theme of flowers. Each chapter, and the new cover image, has a flower to match it. Let's see if any of you can guess what the meanings we're going for are!
Now onto the references this chapter! In regards to Henry's play, the detective Brian Kitt is a reference to both Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey, the victim Lea is a reference to Lea Salonga, the actor Len Todd is a reference to Len Cariou and Sweeney Todd and Olivia's character Willow Hammerstein is a reference to Oscar Hammerstein II. In regards to Virion's promotion as the "modern day Richard Burbage", that is a reference to the actor as well.
Now, thank you to Amy for reviewing (I think if we keep up the rate we're going, this story will end with a 100 page chapter, haha!) as well as Tertium457 and violindancing for following!
I hope you all enjoyed this very long chapter, we've spent over a month working on it (mostly due to my procrastinating), but I'm proud of the result! Please leave a review so we can have some feedback and get to work on the next chapter when we have time (when we're both out of school for the summer most likely.)
Until next time everyone!