OPEN RP POST QUATRE

[formidable]

This a post where I'll RP anything with you! Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. If you wanna chat IDEAS.GIF, contact me at sweethymns or my AIM (rainsweets). I also have LINE as maiscribbles. Have at it! ➢ Cool Mood Music No. 1 ➤ Cool Mood Music No. 2

Comments

[recluserose]

Well, it's chillier, but it doesn't snow here. The weather on this side is different, so some years, we'd get a lovely day of sunshine even during Christmas.

[They're at their destination, a cafe called The Dark Beanstalk. It's quaint inside and the smell of coffee is strong and the seats and atmosphere is inviting.]

Take a seat. I'll get us some coffee.

[invigor]

That's the opposite of what I'm used to. Christmas in New York is just a blanket of white, and you're lucky if you don't gotta shovel half of it out of your way.

[Booker eyes the name of the cafe with interest, not sure what to think of it. The interior is definitely a coffee house atmosphere -- something else that the man isn't used to. It's a bit beyond his time.

He nods at her and while Amelia goes to fetch some coffee, Booker decides to slide into a nearby booth. He figures it'd afford a bit more privacy, depending on what she wanted to talk about. He raps his fingers on the surface of the table as he waits.]

[recluserose]

[The service is quick, mindbogglingly so. She comes back with a tall mug of black coffee for Booker and for herself... Well, she basically has a frappuccino, ice cold, and topped with whipped cream and the works.]

Here you go. Yours is hot, so be careful.

[invigor]

Thanks.

[He takes the offered cup, inhaling the scent of coffee. Plain black is his preferred kind, and he can't help but raise a brow at Amelia's cup of... fluff.]

[recluserose]

I like sweet things.

[SHE SEES THAT LOOK BOOKER]

[invigor]

[Not even bothering to hide that look, nope.]

Got enough coffee in your sugar, there?

[Honestly, that should not even be called coffee.]

[recluserose]

It's mint flavored.

[THAT'S NOT THE QUESTION HERE?? She's stirring it up indignantly.]

And besides, warm drinks are for evenings and cold drinks are better for the daytime to keep someone awake!

[what is this child logic]

[invigor]

[He looks at her with a whiff of disbelief.]

I never heard of no one drinking a nice cup of cold coffee in the morning, Red. Have you?

[recluserose]

[DRINKING HERE, except using a straw in this case and stubbornly looking to the side before muttering.]

Oh, as if I haven't heard that before.

[That being, "Red," of course.]

[invigor]

[Taking a sip of his own coffee, you know, the kind normal people drink.]

What, you don't like it?

[recluserose]

I know my hair is red. I live with it.

[she's gonna drink her frapp like all the cool hip kids do]

[invigor]

Right, but I'm not saying it as a reminder. I reckon you remember the color of your own hair.

[recluserose]

[Outside on one of the lampposts across from the cafe, there's a crow that has landed on top of one. Oh, two, three, five... Amelia's trying not to give them attention, so she just replies to Booker.]

I feel like at some point, everyone I've met has called me that though. It becomes rather trite.

[invigor]

[Booker's definitely not looking at any outside lampposts, so this new development completely escapes his notice for now. He's content with drinking his coffee.]

If you don't want me to call you that, then just say so. [He'll quit. He's not that big of a jerk.]

[recluserose]

[Wow, make her seem like the immature one, she's 66 almost 67 years old here. That sates her though and she takes another sip of her drink before continuing on.]

Well... You can do that much since I let you have the spare bedroom.

[so there she wins]

[invigor]

[Hey, if it's 2014 and he was born in 1874, doesn't that technically make him the older one?

He makes a "tch" noise, but it's an amused one.] Guess you got me there.

[recluserose]

In any case...

[Man out of time, pulled from death, drinking at a 21st century cafe, with a witch.

Amelia cannot believe she's going over that description in her mind.]

... Are you feeling a little better?

[She's not the best person for comfort, she knows this, but she has been trying. Doing her best to handle this situation with Booker as delicately or as generously as she can. She doesn't know what else will work because she doesn't know how to fix anything.

But. She tries. She's trying.]

[invigor]

[The conversation changing gears seems to sap the levity out of Booker -- he knew more or less this is what she wanted to talk about, but whether or not he's doing better just seemed like a moot question these days. Did it really matter?]

The sleep helped some, I guess. [His hands are clasped around the coffee cup, and he idly stares down at the warm liquid. The scar on his hand stares up at him, but he tries to ignore it.] I ain't so tired anymore.

[He knows that's not exactly what she meant. He's giving her the run around.]

[recluserose]

[Delicately... Delicately...]

Do you even want to be alive or not?

[Oh]

[invigor]

[Well hell, straight to the heart of the matter with this redhead.

He swallows, setting his jaw. Beyond that, there's no hesitation in his answer.] No.

[recluserose]

[OH.

Amelia's fingers reach for the cap of her drink and she. Takes a huge gulp of that winter cold thing before setting her cup down a little loudly, gathering her bearings.]

...

Yeah, I got nothing.

[SHE'S SO HELPFUL]

But. You're here. And so am I.

[invigor]

[At least Booker would prefer her honesty over Amelia scrambling to put together some false comfort. He'd be able to tell in an instant that it wasn't sincere.]

No offense, but what good does that do me? I've got nothing and no one, now. And now you've got to worry about taking care of a man from another reality who don't even deserve it. Best I can think is that I go and dunk my head in a river again, see if I can get it right this time.

[recluserose]

Don't.

[Her voice comes out a bit hoarse, maybe because of the brain freeze, or she's genuinely upset at what he said. Both. Her voice lowers to a whisper since they're one of the few people in the cafe other than the small line that enters inside occupied with themselves and ordering drinks, paying no heed to the two of them.]

... If you're going to... Try again... [Her faces scrunches up with distaste, with more distress, as if the subject of death is bringing up something else she didn't want to think about...]

Alone. You do it alone where no one remembers you, no one's ever seen you, no one knows your existence. You're in no one's mind. That's death.

[Her words come out in a rush, clumsily even. She remembers someone's death, she remembers the Witch King's words, mocking her:

"People w̶̜̟̺̗͍̒͆͑̃̍̾͂̍͆͂̚͠ẖ̶̢̖͂̂̀̂̓̍͌̃̌͘o̸̦̼͙̪̳̅͒̐̽̀̊́͆̂̋͜͠͝ͅ ̶̖͇̲͖͉̜̹̪̣̪͛̉̈́̆̕à̴̧̢͖̹͉̠̮͛̅͆̈́͑̋͐̽͌̕͝͝ͅr̷̖͉̤̯̟̳̠̖͎̻͊̊̑̏̈́͘e̵̫̥̥̲̒͗́̒̂̌̄̀̄͘̕ ̸̢̢̢̛̘̞̖̗͙̰̠̪͈̀̓̊̎͂̒̂̈́͆͘͘͝l̸̡̢̰̳̬͖̗̳͎̘̐o̸̢̡̺̞̦̱̫̥̼͙̮̠̊͋̇͒͘͜͜v̴̢̛̳͍̩̯͙͉̣̀̽̾̅e̵̢̥̗͉̯̼̳̩̘̖̬̒̊̂͑d̶̲̙͓͋͐̉ ̴̡̡̧̣̝̘̼̥̱̳͍̮̠̓̈͒͂̌͘̚ͅa̸͉͒̌̏̽̈̆̉̔͂̒̿̇̈́̄̚ņ̷̧̼͚͎̝̳͛͊͆̏͗̈̎̚ͅd̷̨̨̧̟͖̣̠̯̙̖͛͗́ͅ ̷̰͆̏̀̆͒́́̆͌̒̓̔̌̄͆ͅͅl̴̨̧̼͕̠̠̠͈̯͒̇͐̑̅̾͋̈̈́̇͂̓̚o̴̬͓͈̠̘͇̠̼̯̝͒̒̊̽̄͆͋͑͗̕͠v̸̧̨͉̻̼͓̊͊̈͆̅̓̂̎̐̈́͘͠͝ͅé̶̖͎̦̠̬͚̈́̋͋͂̓̾̏͊̆̚͝ ̴̧̲̮͔̗͍̎̿̽̎̊̽͘ exchange a part of themselves that can never be replaced."]

And that's... That's why... Not now.

... I can try though. To find a place far away if that's what you want. Far, far away, if possible, but for now...

[Her green eyes are filled with an indescribable amount of desperation an unspoken despair.]

[invigor]

[He lifts his gaze to look at her when he hears the distress in her voice. Booker frowns, listening and searching, trying to parse out her words, her advice.

But it's less advice and more insight into her character, and something about what he's said -- his implied eagerness for death, the pointlessness he sees in him just being -- seems to distress Amelia greatly. Even as she tells him that she'll help him find someplace far away, where no one would know him or miss him, his look transforms into concern.

Always fucking it up, DeWitt, he thinks to himself, a self-deprecation he thinks is well-deserved. He doesn't want to be the reason why she looks so... desperate. It's his own problem; it wouldn't be fair dumping it onto her, when all she's done so far has been gracious to him in every way.]

No. [He's interrupts, before she can entertain the idea anymore.] I don't... I won't need your help with anything like that. Just forget I said anything about it, all right?

[recluserose]

... I'm bad at forgetting.

[Being unaware, not so much. But once Amelia knows, there's little she doesn't recall, a skill that was earned from years of studying.

And she also knows that her heart is weak and that it bleeds everywhere even when she tries to contain it. ]

... I can still help though. Somehow. Someway.