|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 15:57:47 GMT -5
Lyric's euphoria didn't last long, but it left him completely relaxed, lying boneless against the wall beside Quinn. He stared unseeing at the sky for just a minute or so before he went into a half-asleep state where nothing could touch him. He drowsed, and now and then jumped back into wakeful bliss. For hours, though not as many as Quinn had seen before, he lay with warm, lightly flushed skin, his mind gone for physical peace. A few hours of that peace, and things began to fade in again. The sky, the hard stone he lay against, and the vague knowledge that there wasn't an easy fix for the comedown he'd have.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 16:13:21 GMT -5
Quinn had stayed constantly vigilant while Lyric was in whatever world he had been in, and she had to say she wasn't sure about whatever he had been doing. It had been horrible, just watching him for hours, waiting, hoping that he would feel better after what was happening. And hoping that maybe in the future she could get him to wean off of it. It was just terrible to watch, and she wondered, after what he'd said of his mother, if she knew. If she had the right to say something, to do something, to help him. "You feeling better now?" she asked softly, not wanting to put him in a worse mood when he came out.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 16:28:36 GMT -5
Lyric closed his eyes and tried to gather some moisture in his mouth to speak. There wasn't any, so the brief "yeah," felt stuck in his throat. He felt nauseous and wiped out, felt hot and feverish, but the emotional and mental desperation were laid to rest for now. His brows drew together and he leaned away from Quinn to get sick, though there was nothing in his stomach to be expelled. He wasn't entirely sure when the last time he'd eaten was. He wiped his dry mouth with the back of his hand all the same and groaned lightly as he forced himself to shift into a sitting position, his muscles aching from lying against stone for so long. "You're still here." Only pieces of what had happened still stuck in his mind, though other parts were painfully vivid.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 16:34:38 GMT -5
Quinn bowed her head, her hair shifting into her face. "It wasn't easy, I wanted to leave. But I told you, I would help you, no expectation of return." It had hurt, even though she should have known the response. Quinn dug in her tiny pocket for something she'd picked up at the candy store the last time she'd been in Hogsmead. She held her hand out to Lyric, a hard candy in her hand, "it's the best I have. You want it?" It wasn't mint, mint would upset his stomach more, but it should help settle his stomach to have something to suck on.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 16:45:12 GMT -5
Lyric looked at Quinn, really looked at her for a moment before dropping his gaze to her offering. "Yeah," he said again, and reached out to grab hold of the edge of the wrapper, avoiding any accidental physical contact as he took it. His head hung low as his fingers worked it open, the treat blocked now and then by short fingernails coated in chipping black paint. He couldn't taste it at first, but after a moment his body began to cooperate. "Thank you," he said, looking aside at her. There wasn't moonlight to see her with, and he wondered absently when the sun had set.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 21:25:24 GMT -5
It was such a little word, but coming from him, after what had happened, it meant a lot more than that. Quinn drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them, setting her head against her knees, turning just so her face could see him. "No problem." It felt like a problem, seeing him do that after nearly jumping. But she knew after experiencing it the relief that could bring, and couldn't begrudge him that relief, yet.
She gestured from her near position at a camera that was still around his neck. "I remember you had that, the first day I met you. I haven't seen it since." And it seemed odd that he would be carrying it around his neck after intending to jump off of the ledge.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 21:56:30 GMT -5
Lyric looked down, only then recalling that he'd brought Melody. "I wanted her to come with me," he said, and looked away. He'd wanted to take along the bit of happiness he'd had before everything happened. He'd wanted to kill it, too. To kill the happiness, kill every trace of Jory that was in him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a marble with swirling red and yellow stripes hardly visible in the dim light. He turned it over between his fingers a moment, then reached out, offering it silently to Quinn. She didn't need to know what it meant, and he didn't want to think too hard about it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 22:04:59 GMT -5
The small trinket in Lyric's hands caught what tiny bit of reflective material the stars had to offer this evening, catching Quinn's eye. Silently she took what he was offering, not knowing why it moved her that he was giving it to her. Maybe it was like the dragon, wanting to share something, but not knowing how to say more. Either way, she was happy to take that small bit of Lyric with her. "It's a girl?" she asked softly, wondering when he'd gotten it, knowing to give it a gender meant that it was something very close to him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 22:13:29 GMT -5
"Melody," Lyric said. He pulled his hand back, and with both picked the camera up, turning it on to work the controls. He didn't want to tell her how he'd gotten it, didn't want to tell her when or from whom. He didn't want to talk about that period of less than a year when he'd been clean and Melody had helped him keep his mind off things. He'd been taking pictures as long as he'd been in school, but it had only become a near-obsession that Christmas. "I don't use it anymore," he added, forcing distance between himself and the inanimate object in his hands.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 22:17:46 GMT -5
Quinn let a small smile break through, "her name fits with yours." Quinn imagined that camera up against his face and thought it seemed something that was suiting to him. "You should use her." It wasn't a suggestion, or Quinn trying to force something, rather it seemed right to her. "It helps when I carve." It helped take the mind off of something ugly and focus on something beautiful.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 22:37:33 GMT -5
Lyric looked at the camera a moment longer, switching things over, then raised the camera. He didn't tell Quinn to smile, but took a picture of her the way she was, then lowered Melody and switched her back off. "I don't use her anymore," he said again. He reached up and unhooked the strap, then pulled it around as he reached into his duffel bag. "Not since November." Not since his birthday, and apparently sometime in the early hours of the next morning. He'd never develop the pictures that had been taken. He pulled out his camera bag and tucked Melody in. He didn't need her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 22:41:54 GMT -5
"It's the beginning of the Chinese New Year, maybe since it's a new year, you can make some new starts." Her hand slid the warm marble into the pocket of her jeans as she continued to look at Lyric. "If not, I might have to steal her. A good camera like her not getting used, would be like one of my wands sitting on a shelf." One of her wands was sitting on a shelf, she knew the one she'd made for Dare and Michael was probably just a pretty ornament, but it had a different purpose in life than use. But she made sure that her tone was light, a bit teasing, so Lyric wouldn't think she actually intended to steal Melody.
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 22:48:39 GMT -5
Lyric shot a sharp look at Quinn all the same. Melody might not have a place in what he was doing, but she was still very much his. He wasn't good enough with verbal or physical cues to pick up on her teasing, and if he had, he wouldn't have seen the humor in it. He pushed the camera bag back into his duffel bag and turned to start gathering up the remnants of his earlier desperation. Everything went back into the bag, back in order, including the wrapped dragon that Quinn probably wouldn't be able to identify. He was locking away weakness with everything else.
|
|
|
|
Post by Quinn Ashwinder on Feb 14, 2010 22:53:37 GMT -5
The packing of his tools was an indication if any that Quinn had made another misstep tonight, what appeared to be one of many. "I didn't actually mean I'd take her Lyric. She's yours. I just meant it was a shame, when you love her that much, not to use her." Hiding happy memories just allowed you to dwell on the things that hurt you. Quinn turned her head to look towards the doorway, "it would be me stopping my carvings."
She ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I love them, I love wands, but while I love them, it was the business my step-father was in. It was his passion, and twisted or not, it's mine too. I can't separate what I love from what I hate when I work with the wands. Bad things happened." Quinn looked back at Lyric, "but when a first year picks up a wand for the first time, and it fits him, all I can remember is the joy of making that wand."
|
|
|
|
Post by Trent Frey on Feb 14, 2010 23:01:14 GMT -5
Lyric blinked, his hands faltering a moment before he shook it off and moved to arrange things just so. I can't separate what I love from what I hate. He turned the near-empty bottle label up and smoothed his fingers against a corner that had begun to peel slightly, pushing it back into place. "How do you do it if it's that bad?" he asked, the words far less absent than they sounded. He couldn't shut his mind off enough to function, not without help or every last bit of sanity he possessed. He wished he'd never touched Jory without drinking just so that question would never have come up between them.
|
|
