Permanent
Chapter 2
It would be a lie to say that Maleficent did not, to some degree, enjoy being stared at. There is a certain power knowing that someone physically cannot take their eyes off of you, that you are such a stark contrast to everything else around them that they must drink in every ounce of you before you disappear. Maleficent is always aware of the eyes that follow her wherever she goes whether she acknowledges them or not and it gives her a sense of command, like a general in front of her army.
However, being fearfully admired and being made fun of are two entirely different things.
Of course, Maleficent is not stupid. It is inevitable, the pointing and the giggles that accompany some of the stares she receives. Most people are not like her or Diaval or the customers that frequent The Moors and she is reminded of this every Sunday and Monday when she runs errands, goes to the bank, buys groceries. Some days it simply delights her further, knowing she is capable of producing such a reaction from the ignorant, boring masses that overflow Sun City and the rest of the world.
Other times, like now, it only serves to fuel an anger inside of her that is just barely contained by the prison of her skeleton.
Fixing her gaze on a trio of chuckling boys to her right, Maleficent sneers, pulling back blood red lips to bare gleaming teeth at them like a provoked lioness. The high arches of her brows stretch over her forehead, golden eyes become wide, and she watches with suppressed glee as the boys fitfully squirm under the horrific stare until they finally grab their drinks from the table and hustle for the door.
Satisfied, Maleficent's scowl turns to a grin as she steps forward in line for the Starbucks counter. Many people are interested in body modification, of the strange and unusual, but few have the balls to actually live it, to defend it.
Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Maleficent reaches a hand inside and searches for her wallet, careful to angle her head in such a way that her horns do not snag on the woman's hair in front of her. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she's smacked into something or someone by not being careful enough -
"That was amazing."
If the voice hadn't come from so close to her Maleficent wouldn't have thought it was directed at her, but the source is just behind her elbow, so she turns. Her mouth drops open at the sight.
"Aurora?"
At the recognition, the young woman brightens, smiling so wide every one of her pearly white teeth becomes visible. "Hey!" Clasping her hands together, Aurora leans forward, voice dipping into a whisper. "I saw what you did to those boys. You literally scared them away without saying a word! It was incredible."
Maleficent, realizing her mouth is still hanging open, snaps it shut with a click. Seeing Aurora in this environment is much more fitting to her, but it makes Maleficent feel even more out of place than usual. The girl is in another dress, this one as blue as her eyes; standing beside her in dreary black garb is like comparing a thunderstorm to a summer's day.
"Ah, well," Maleficent starts, searching for the words on the wall across the room. "Staring I can tolerate, but blatantly laughing at my expense is pushing it."
"Those boys go to my school. I have mythology with one of them and he's absolutely rotten. I'm sorry you have to put up with that all the time." Aurora steps forward as Maleficent does in line. "Hey, if I buy your coffee, would you sit with me for a bit?" She gestures to a small table for two near the front window. Maleficent follows her finger with her eyes, spotting an open laptop with a still steaming drink right beside it.
"That's - that's really not necessary," Maleficent says, reaching for her wallet. "I can buy it myself."
"Oh, come on, consider it part of my deposit." Aurora grins and swings the same purse she had worn when she came to the shop less than a week before, producing the same golden wallet. "Besides, it's Sunday. It's your day off. Let me treat you."
Maleficent has run out of time to argue. The woman in front of her takes her order and ducks out of Maleficent's way, leaving her to stare openly at the wide-eyed barista. Shifting her gaze between the grinning Aurora and the shocked server, she finally relents, giving her order stiffly while the woman beside her slides her debit card through the reader.
"Are you always this nice to people you barely know?" The question comes out more accusing than Maleficent intended, although that is her default tone when speaking. Taking her drink from the barista, she follows Aurora's lead weaving through the tables until they sit across from each other at the one by the window.
Aurora only smiles. She closes her laptop and holds her drink in both hands. "Not just anyone, no. But for my artist, certainly."
What on earth is it with blushing around this girl? Maleficent is grateful that heavy foundation and contouring makes it almost impossible for any redness to show through. "I'm not your artist quite yet. You might see the sketches I've made and decide I'm not as good as you've hyped me up to be."
"Nonsense." Aurora laughs, sipping at her drink and crossing her legs. The movement is slight and not purposeful, but with such a small table separating them, Maleficent catches a brush of Aurora's toes along her shin. "I'm a fan of The Moors' Facebook page and I've seen every piece you've put on there."
"Diaval puts those up, not me." Maleficent brings her cup to her lips and cautiously tilts it, feeling the heat of the liquid before it hits her tongue. It's probably still too hot to drink but she doesn't seem to care.
"They're all beautiful." Aurora rests her chin on an open hand and gazes across the table as if she wants to add something else to that sentence, but decides against it.
Shifting uncomfortably for reasons very different than Maleficent is used to when it comes to staring, she folds her hands together on the table and clears her throat. "Well, thank you. And thank you for the drink."
"You're welcome! I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important. You don't have to stay, I just - I wanted to talk to you a little more. Get to know you. When I saw you in line, I had to say something."
"I'm just running errands. That's all." Maleficent bites her tongue, suddenly wishing that she did have something important to rush off to, or had lied and said she did, if just so she could slip back into her usual confidence again on her own. There is something about Aurora that puts her on edge, like someone holding a nail to a balloon. She's waiting for the girl to pop. "What are you going to school for?" She asks, grasping at what little she knows to be small talk. Diaval is much better at it than she is. If he were here, he'd be laughing his ass right off. Maleficent chews the inside of her cheek.
The question makes Aurora blush. Maleficent is surprised to see the girl look so embarrassed. She watches as Aurora runs her finger along the curve of her Macbook. "You'll think it's dumb. Everyone thinks it's dumb. Especially my dad."
"I doubt that it's dumb at all."
The corner of Aurora's mouth perks again. "Photography. I love it. I don't care what anyone has to say about it, I am absolutely in love with it."
Maleficent believes her. Her bright expression could pale the sun in comparison.
"I'd really like to travel the world and take pictures for a magazine, like National Geographic or something. Journalism is my minor. My dad thinks it's a poor career choice, even threatened to not pay my tuition if I didn't pick something smarter -" Aurora's hands hook in the air to form quotation marks around the word. "- but I told him that I'm old enough to make my own decisions now, and this is what I want to do."
Maleficent couldn't muffle the slight smile that collects at the edge of her mouth if she wanted to. Looking at Aurora's determined expression, all tight lines and fierce, downward eyebrows reminds Maleficent of herself at that age. She probably would have fought with her father, too, had she a father to fight with.
"You can fail at anything," Maleficent says. "So you might as well take a chance doing something you're truly passionate about."
Aurora grins. "Sounds like a quote I should tattoo on myself." She giggles and bites her tongue, the pink tip resting between her teeth. Maleficent stares at it.
Why is she staring at it?
"I've done enough cheesy quotes to last me a lifetime." Maleficent drags her eyes away from Aurora's damned mouth like a civil person and forces her gaze to stay locked on the young woman's eyes across from her. Thank the gods, Aurora must not notice, because she does not draw any attention to it.
Laughing, Auror leans forward and narrows her eyes, an intensity solidifying those blue pools. Maleficent waits or her to say something, squirming under the stare.
The fact that a small girl of Aurora's age can do that to her is frustrating in and of itself. Maleficent is not a creature who is easily flustered - she can think of only one other person who had that ability and that was eons ago, before Aurora was even born. She had spent her life since then becoming as close to a human statue as she possibly could, keeping her social circle exclusive and private and refusing to date for the past decade, at least. Life is simpler this way. She has freedom.
Aurora studies her like she is a piece of art - not a statue, more like a painting, searching for meaning where Maleficent knows there is none.
"Have you ever modeled before?" Aurora finally breaks the silence, her face brightening again with an excited smile.
Maleficent feels fire in her cheeks. "No," she says, turning her drink between her fingers.
"That is an absolute shame. You're so -" she motions with one hand toward her, as if that is explanation enough.
Had this been coming out of Diaval's mouth - or anyone else, for that matter - Maleficent not only would have been convinced that this was blatant ass kissing, but would have, without hesitation, called her out on it. It almost angers her to know that this is truly not the case, that soft spoken little Aurora says nothing but what she believes to be true.
Maleficent has to believe that no one is wholly good, but Aurora makes that difficult.
"You certainly know how to make someone speechless," Maleficent says from around her coffee cup, which hides the ghost of a smile that has taken root on her lips.
Aurora flushes. Unlike Maleficent, every inch of red on her face is too noticeable. "My dad says I'm too much of an open book. That it's going to be the death of me, one day."
"Your father sounds like a tight ass." Maleficent is not troubled to say this - it's been established that Aurora is not fond of the man. She confirms this by nodding her head, resting her cheek in an open palm.
"He's a cop. I guess it's part of being one, or maybe he was always that way. Even before my mom died …"
But Maleficent is no longer listening. Her throat has closed up and a loud ringing sounds in her ears like alarms, blocking out Auror's voice, the surround chatter of the coffee shop. There is only painful, loud silence. She should have known the instant Aurora stepped foot into The Moors and made Maleficent feel like an embarrassed school girl that this Kingsley was of the same blood as the last one who made her feel that way.
She does not believe in coincidences. She believes in signs.
"What is your father's name?" Maleficent knows without looking that she has interrupted the girl mid-sentence, that her eyebrows are raised in confusion at the sudden question. She doesn't care. She has to hear it, know it for certain. Even now, she's hoping that she's wrong, that this city is big enough for more than one Officer Kingsley.
"Stefan. Why?"
Maleficent stands so abruptly the edge of the table smacks against her knees. Grabbing her drink tight enough to risk popping the lid right off, she shoulders her bag and clears her very tight throat. "I'm sorry, Aurora," she says, one hand flattening over her rolling stomach. "I have to get going. I'm -" Maleficent stalls, searching for an excuse. She's disgusted with herself; she doesn't owe this girl an excuse. She doesn't owe her anything. They are not friends. Aurora is his - they are as good as enemies for the relation alone.
"Are you alright? You look ill." Aurora stands and reaches out for the other woman, but Maleficent quickly raises a hand to stop her.
"I'm fine, I just need to start heading home." She meets Aurora's eyes. She doesn't see a trace of him there, but it does little to calm her nerves.
"Oh." Aurora blinks rapidly. It is the first time Maleficent has seen her at a loss. "Okay, well -" she steps after her as Maleficent makes her way to the door. Maleficent just barely bites back the urge to snap at her. "We're still on for Tuesday, right? To look at your sketches?"
She sounds positively heartbroken at Maleficent's departure, but she refuses to look back and see the evidence of it. A foreign feeling of guilt is already pooling in her gut and it makes her sick. With her hand wrapped firmly around the door handle, Maleficent has half a mind to leave without answering. Perhaps that would offend Aurora so much she would refuse to show up for her appointment and they would never have to see each other again.
One can hope.
Maleficent's whirlwind of emotions are redirected to a man at her side who is openly gesturing to her and whispering to the woman sitting across from him. She sees Stefan's disgusted snarl in the man's mouth and she erupts, turning to face him on the edge of her high heel. Her nostrils flare.
"Do you have something to say to me?" Her words are piercing ice. She watches the man's expression melt into one of awkward embarrassment. The shop has grown quiet and tense; every pair of eyes are trained on her, waiting for her to put on a show like wrestlers in a match. She imagines Stefan in the stranger's place and it doesn't seem like a terrible idea.
His discomfort is enough to satisfy her, though, for now. She turns to face Aurora and the rest of her sudden fury and disgust is replaced with guilt.
Aurora looks afraid of her. Which bothers Maleficent, and it bothers her that it bothers her, and her head is whirling.
"Yes," Maleficent says, keeping her tone soft, and she is more relieved than she would like to admit to see some of the fear melt from Aurora's face. "I will see you Tuesday. Thank you for the drink." Bowing her head and flashing what she hopes is something akin to a smile, Maleficent ducks out of the shop. Dozens of eyes watch her through the glass as she gets into her car and speeds away.
She swears she could snap the steering wheel with her hands, barely paying attention to the road as she races home. Her thoughts are much too fast for the highway.
Stefan Kingsley.
The name rips down her spine. He married. He had a child.
He had a child like Aurora.
She stares at the drink in her cup holder and feels like she's been poisoned. When it explodes on the road behind her, she only feels good about it for a minute.