sweethymns | Pictures in the Dark

[Iona opens the cafe door...

And it leads to what clearly is an apartment room. It's very well furnished and modern, with some colorful touches in wall decor, thanks to Iona herself. Heck, it's probably expensive since this is LA we're talking about. Unlike the cafe, there's no hint that there's anything inherently magical even though the two inhabitants are the very definition of it.]

Home sweet home! Well, not quite as homey as the Grind mind you.

[He steps out and looks around; Michael's surprised, really. He expected a place that looked far more "magic-y", but instead finds himself in a relatively normal looking apartment, though certainly nice and modern.]

It's a nice place. [He won't sit unless he's invited to, so he'll just stand for now.] Someplace relaxing to come home to, right?

Thanks! My grandma helped find it for me. It was either this or I lived in a mansion. I mean, I know that sounds like the better alternative, but it would have felt empty...

[She trails off, but snaps out of it just as quickly as she turns to Michael.]

Help yourself to the sofa! I'll just go and get ready.

[He catches that moment of silence, letting it pass as what it is. He never grew up in a mansion (he grew up in a modest house, and the only apartment he could afford in New York was as big as a shoebox), but he can easily imagine the emptiness of living in one, an emptiness that would become overwhelming with time. He can relate to it.

And because he can relate to it, he can't help but wonder if Iona feels tinges of loneliness at times, the same way he does; nibbling at his heels, scratching at the inside of his mind, never overbearing, but always seeming to be there. It's almost impossible to believe; she was too bright, too passionate, too outgoing to be like him.

For some reason, he feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at that thought -- before he quickly reprimands himself, because why would he want anyone to feel the same sort of stagnant seclusion as he? There was the saying that misery loved company, but he never thought of that as anything but selfish. He doesn't want to be that guy.

He's snapped out of his reverie when she invites him to sit. He forces a recovering smile and manages:] Thanks. [He sits, sinking into the sofa, and suddenly his feet are reminding him of how sore they are.] Take your time, I'll just rest for a bit until you're ready.

[It's because she's so bright and so passionate that it makes it harder to tell. She's so open, but there's still so much that goes unsaid, so much that hasn't floated up to the surface. Oren has seen all those parts already. And after all that's happened...

Iona disappears into her room for a minute or two. It takes no time for her at all to change into some casual clothes and walk out the living room, hair untied and tumbling into messy dark waves around her shoulders.]

I'm all set. You?

[He looks up and pauses; he doesn't think he's ever seen her in purely casual clothes with her hair down. He thinks to himself that it suits her well.] You look nice. [It's said automatically, without much afterthought.]

I'm good to go. [Michael dresses nice; not overly fashionable, but rather a modern kind of casual. As a result, he was already inadvertently dressed for an outing even if he didn't plan for it. He stands up from the couch and will follow her lead.]

[Iona beams at his nice remark. In fact, she's kind of beaming all the way down as they make their way out of the apartment.]

It's been a while! Going out to meet with friends I mean! I tend to be real busy so people around me tend to think I'm a drag.

[Well her smile is infectious, so he grins too, though he sounds surprised at her comment.]

What? I find it hard to believe that anyone thinks you're a drag. There's a difference between being busy and being unsociable.

[Like him, who is a bit of both.]

Ah, well... There's a limit to how close I can get to certain people. And you know, I can't stretch myself too thinly.

[Theres something kind of sad about her saying that, but he tries to hide it from his voice the best he can.]

You mean... because of your magic?

Mm!

[A nod and she pushes her hair back behind her ear. It kind of falls back in place anyways.]

In a few more years, I'll have to work on making sure I'm forgotten. Or I'll fade away. But for now, I'm just trying to have fun.

[Being forgotten? His smile fades at hearing that, and he mentally debates whether or he should prod further.

Usually he wouldn't, but for some reason it bothers him, and he says:]

Is it really that easy to do?

[Despite her ease of explanation, how can someone be so eager to fade away? Perhaps it's hypocritical of him to think so, but he's far more concerned about her than he ever will be for himself.]

It's a lengthy and tiring process to be honest.

[He sounds so concerned that it touches her. And she pats him on the back.]

Don't worry about me. I've been prepping myself for this for a while and Oren's there for me.

[He wants to ask how she can be so okay with it, though -- it's true that he pulled away from his family and friends, to the point where it could be debated that he might as well have disappeared.

But the truth of it was, if Michael thought that things could be different, he'd change it. He'd never wish to disappear; he just isn't sure he has the strength to allow anything else to take place. So it's mind-boggling to him that Iona would be so accepting of such a fate.

Should he question her more? He's not sure. He doesn't want to be rude.]

I... I'm sure you'll be fine, and I know Oren will always be there to look out for you.

[He hesitates as he walks, jamming his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground with each step.]

It just sounds sad, you know?

[It's not that she's all okay. It's always easier said than done in the end and it sounds so feasible when Iona says the words herself. If anyone else pointed it out to her, like Oren, that sinking feeling in her stomach always threatens to make her listless.

But she's okay. She has to be. Michael seems hesitant and she doesn't blame him and she wants to make sure he's fine first before herself.

The witch replies cheerfully.]

It's quite the bummer! But I dunno. I don't wanna stay stuck in that mood.

[Because she's been in that pit before, she doesn't want to be there again]

Because you'd miss out on so many wonderful things if you're just looking at the ground all the time!

[Of course, that's just a small joke since he's looking down so Iona just leans down giving him a smile.]

[He catches her smile in his peripheral, looking over and grinning a bit shyly back. He has more he wants to say, more he wants to ask about the necessity of it all. Making others forget, it felt like erasing a part of your past, a part of who you were. Looking at Iona, that seems such a... shame.

She puts on a brave face, but if he were to be brutally truthful, he would call it nothing but that. He can't imagine being anything but scared.

But while he's truthful, he's not brutal. It's pared-down, his next question, for the sake of not causing her discomfort dwelling on it.]

You wouldn't have to make all your friends forget, would you?

[That one is a bit of a selfish question, but he indulges himself in it regardless.]

[Iona appears to be thinking for a second...]

Don't you forget about me
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby ♫

[... And thus she sings it off, straightens her self up and walks a few steps ahead of Michael, with a whistle. But she still faces him.]

[He blinks at her when she starts singing, and he recognizes it immediately -- Simple Minds. It isn't common knowledge except to those closest to him, but Michael actually has a fondness for 80's music, and his smile twists into something wry, humoring her.]

Not exactly sure what to make of that answer, Iona. A song about two lovers, one telling the other to not forget them after they grow apart.

[He pauses, his mind shuffling through the song, walking forward while still faces him, walking backwards.] "Would you recognize me? Call my name or walk on by?" Not very uplifting when you really listen.

[He wonders if that was his answer to him, that sort of melancholy he associated with the song being what he could, what he should, expect. Of course she would sing it. Of course she would.]

It seemed appropriate! [Aside from the lovers part]

I don't have an easy answer anyways. And like you said, Oren will take care of me... But I don't think it's just him. I still have Grandma, my brother...

... And there's you.

[There's a light breeze that passes them by, making her hair dance gently as she looks up at the night sky.]

You wouldn't forget me would you?

[She makes it sound so complicated when it should be simple, but Michael isn't so naive to think that life is that easy. Choices often had to be made that he believed to be inherently unfair at their core -- what Iona will have to do in the coming years easily qualifies as such, to him.

But there's only so much he can say to change her mind, if even that much. She's already made her decision, it seems; saying goodbye to one life and moving to another, fluid as water.

She lists those who'll be there for her, and he nods, feeling a bit of that melancholy lift, knowing that she won't be by herself. But when she mentions him, he stops and looks at her profile as she gazes up at the sky.

It's weird, his words catch in his throat for a minute, and he has to struggle to find them again. When he finally does, still looking at her, they're assured and plainly spoken.]

Of course I won't forget. As long as you promise to do the same.

Edited 2016-05-27 17:23 (UTC)

[Iona looks at him after he answers. And then brightly and almost abruptly she holds out her right hand and sticks out her pinkie finger.]

Alright then! I'll swear on it!

[The energy behind the gesture makes him smile, and the sentiment behind it makes him... glad.]

All right.

[He reaches up and hooks his little pinky with hers.]

Pinky swear.

[Her pinkie looks smaller than his and the glamour hides everything, but there's that unmistakable rough surface of small crystals that stud her fingers and all the way to her right arm. So when she hooks her pinkie around his, it's rather gentle.]

Got it. Cross my heart and everything too, I'll make sure that I never forget you.

...

Cool, that rhymed!

[The surface of her pinky is unmistakably rough, but it doesn't bother him; he's distinctly aware that she's being gentle, and after the promise is made, he drops his hand to the side.]

Great. [That wide, sincere smile of his.] So you can add one more person to your list that'll be there for you, as long as I live.

[Being that he doesn't know how long that is, if he ages more slowly or less than her. But that was all details; he means what he says, for her sake. And for his own.]

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