sweethymns | OPEN RP POST QUATRE

Amelia, don't waste your breath. [It sounds harsh, but it's said more out of concern for her than any indignity he might feel.] There's nothing you can do. What I went through... It wasn't something born outta normal circumstances. There ain't a normal solution.

[He isn't even sure what the real solution is. Ending his life just would have been an easy way out.] I'm not worth the effort; you got your own life here, your own things to worry about. I'm not gonna detract from that.

[Reaching over to... Flick his forehead looking irritated.]

Ow. [He says out of habit, even though it didn't really hurt at all. Still, he brings up his hand to rub at the spot on his forehead that was flicked.]

The hell was that for?

I panicked.

[Now he's just lost]

About what?

I don't know how else to reply so I just. Do that.

[how is she so she useless]

[Ah.

He raises a brow, letting his hand drop back to his mug.]

Nothing to reply to. Like I said, clear it from your mind.

[Silence settles between them, as he also doesn't know how else to continue beyond that.]

Look.

I won't make you explain yourself right now, but as it is you have the misfortune to meet me.

[chugging down the rest of her frap, thanks. Aaand putting a hand on her head. ]

Ack. Brain freeze.

Then don't drink so fast. [He leans back in the booth with a small sigh.]

Why's it a misfortune?

Because...

[She sighs. Everything's gotten way too heavy, but there's no other way except to push past it.]

I've thrown away so many things before, foolishly so. And I'd always regret it, but I kept doing so because I didn't know any other way to live.

And now I'm... It's hard to let go.

[He raps his fingers against the mug, his expression hard to read. His lips are pressed into a thin frown when he responds.]

I know what it's like. Throwing away things that you should hold onto. But changing that isn't so bad. Most people don't even get that far.

[another beat] Sorry if I went and upset you. I didn't mean to.

["It's nothing," is something she wants to say, but she doesn't. It's not the right answer.]

... It's only been one day.

Like I said. I'll help. I'll help find another way out of here I mean.

Edited 2016-09-17 21:10 (UTC)

And how do you expect to do that? I meant it when I said my situation's abnormal. I don't really got a place to return to, anyway.

I'm not normal.

[Although that's been established, it's obvious she means something else.]

That said, I have... My mentor might come up with something.

[Okay, so now they're peeling back the curtain a little. He leans forward on his elbows, looking skeptical.]

What are you talking about? A mentor in what? We're talking time and space here, Amelia. This isn't something you can fix overnight.

[If she's not normal, then what?]

Well, that's not the hat I stick my hand in often, but it's something I'm not terribly unfamiliar with-- [She's interrupted by a rapping noise on the window.]

Alright, now what??

[Huh. It's one of the crows and it's tapping its beak impatiently on the glass window.]

[The noise actually startles Booker a bit, and he turns to look at the window with a confounded expression. A crow.

He flexes his left hand without thinking, certain associations about a certain vigor coming back to him. But all he says is;]

This place have a crow problem or something?

[SIGHING. And then she stands up, with her plastic cup in hand so she can dispose of it.]

Come with me. Can't have anyone seeing this exchange.

[Booker has no earthly idea about what she's talking about, and her words make it impossible to immediately ask, even if he wants to. So, looking a little dumbfounded, he stands to follow her out.]

You weren't kidding when you said you were abnormal.

[That might have caused her to grumble as she tosses her cup and opens the door. They're going back in the direction of her house and now it's become more noticeable that the crows are following her, one hopping after her on the ground, and the others gliding in the air, in a way that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone else except the two of them.]

When you live alone for a number of years, it tends to happen.

Uh huh.

[Sorry, but he's a little distracted by all the crows following him. He's starting to wonder if Murder of Crows had another side-effect he didn't know about.

But no, that didn't make sense. Amelia was treating this like nothing out of the ordinary.]

Are you going to tell me what's going on with all these crows anytime soon?

I need to give them payment.

[The sun is growing warmer, giving her hair quite the sheen.]

They're my eyes around the town and messengers when I need them.

[Booker keeps craning his neck upwards and behind, as if checking on the crows flying above them.]

You give birds payment? [You can't criticize, Booker, you summon crows and have them peck people's eyes out.]

Who are you? [No way she's just a teacher at a school.]

[Amelia turns around, with a combination of exasperation and reluctance in her facial expression.

But you know what? Booker spilled the beans about being from 1912. So it's quite silly to be tight lipped on her end.]

Amelia Eva Steinbeck. High school literature teacher, certified in the state of California, and...

[There in a more private area away from prying eyes and the crows land on the ground hopping around them or flapping their wings.]

A witch.

[He stops, eying the crows as they hop around him. It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's just that... well. He's seen what kind of damage a murder of them can do. He's prone to keeping a respectful distance in a group like this.

This line of thinking is derailed when Amelia says she's a witch, though.]

...a what? [Um, did he hear that right?]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject