westfallcorndog | Cinema Theory (Tagging Amelia)

[Lol that's Naugus]

That's no consolation, Harrowheart! He follows with a quick second message.

[Clearing my head sounds good. I'll find you. Don't be scared when I show up.]

She has a bit of a head start on him, but not much. He can't track scents well in his human form and wouldn't know the smell of Amelia well enough regardless, but he has an idea of the direction she went and where he'll find her. His long legs and tirelessness give him a leg up on the hunt for his ~~quarry~~ acquaintance.

When he's sure he sees her he shouts, "Amelia?" Hey, nobody ever said he was stealthy.

Subtle and stealthy Harrowheart might not be, but he certainly can't miss the familiar sounds of metal on metal or metal tearing through fabric. If he follows the sounds, he'll find Amelia tearing into three target dummies, which she's arranged in a triangle about 10 feet apart from each other. She moves swiftly from one target to the next, not making any sounds besides those of her various blades tearing through into the dummies. That is, of course, until her last maneuver, in which she jumps high and thrusts her rapier and gauche into the chest area of a dummy with a frustrated yell. It falls under the force of her blows and lands with a soft thud in the snow.

Panting slightly, Amelia retrieves her blades before realizing that Harrow is there. Despite her victory over the dummy, she looks... defeated. "Hey," she says softly before sheathing her weapons and beginning to retrieve the one, two, three... ten?! daggers from the other two dummies.

That's quite the display he never expected to catch. First Nat turns out to be an adventurous killer, and now Amelia? Looks like those weapons weren't just for show.

"For a lady who manages a shippin' business you're one agile woman," he says, smiling slightly as he approaches. He scrubs at his mouth and asks, "How rare of a treat was what I just saw? Is that between you and me, or am I the last guy in the Nexus to find out that Amelia can throw those daggers as good as she can wear 'em?"

"I don't wear them because I can't use them. No need to shout it from the rooftops, though." She shrugs, picking the fallen dummy up. "I haven't had a reason to use them outside of practice, though, so you can call this a treat if you want."

Her hands falter a bit as she sets the dummy upright and she sighs.

"Well, I used them once in public, but I'd rather not talk about it." Because fuck Naugus and all that he stands for.

Fuck Naugus indeed.

Harrow holds his hands up and ducks his head at her request not to talk about that incident. He doesn't need to know, and he certainly respects a person's desire for privacy.

"Normally I'd ask you if you wanted to practice with a movin' body, but fightin' ain't what I came over for." He tries to assume the most unimposing body language possible, which really only makes him look more like the dazed zombie he is, arms hanging limply at his sides and eyes fixated on Amelia.

"You seemed like... I mean, not to get into your personal business or nothin', but earlier you seemed... Upset? And I got worried. Is everything okay? Do you need anything? Anyone? 'Cause I'm here, if you do. Honest."

That look is... actually more terrifying than he might think. At least to someone who's not used to the dead walking around everywhere. She shivers as she turns away and looks at the furthest target dummy.

"Just a lot going on right now." In a single, fluid movement she grabs her slingshot and a rock from her belt, takes aim, and fires. Her arm is strong and her aim true - the dummy is hit square in the 'face.' The movement throws her hood back, which shows she's lacking that hair pin she's always wearing. "But I left my room today, so that's progress."

She's shivering? Well, it is cold. It's easy to forget that when you're dead. Despite his better judgment he gets closer to her as she shoots her sling so that he can speak less loudly. And that's when he notices it! Her appearance is different somehow. He isn't quite sure what it is, but he thinks it's the hair. And what makes a person feel more like they're noticed than letting them know their changes in appearance are noted?

"You did somethin' new to your hair!" That's sufficiently vague but still close enough to be helpful, right? Because that's all he wants. To be helpful. Look, he's even smiling!

"...yeah." She doesn't turn to look at him, because she doesn't really want to show anyone else how much she hurts right now. But it's obvious in her voice, in the way she folds in on herself when she speaks. Whatever happened, it was bad. "I can't wear my hair pin right now, so a simple braid will have to do. It's a lot different than what I've become accustomed to."

Before Harrow can reach her she steps forward to retrieve the fallen rock from the snow in front of the dummy it struck.

"Harrow," she says softly, not looking at him still, "how do you cope with loss?"

Despite knowing that Amelia was potentially in a difficult spot, he's still taken aback by that sudden question. It shows in a raise of his eyebrows and a widening of his eyes, but only briefly, and to his fortune she doesn't turn to see him. He controls his expression and even has a brief moment to consider his answer.

"I let myself feel whatever comes after. If I'm angry, I let it out on somethin' that won't feel pain. If I'm sad, I cry until I can't anymore. If I'm lonely, I try to think good thoughts about the person I'm missin' until I feel good again."

He takes a seat in the snow and rests his wrists against his bent knees. "If I feel like the bad guy, I try to make amends. And if I feel like the victim, I..." He frowns. "I try to prove that I can be strong. That's when it's the hardest. But in the end, it's all the same: I let myself feel what my heart tells me to feel until my soul's too tired to cry or rage or keep me locked away, and then I try and get on with my life. And when enough time passes, the hurt isn't always on your mind. Sometimes it goes away, sometimes not. But the universe has this weird way of movin' on and takin' you with."

He eyes Amelia, quiet for a moment, then hesitantly asks, "Do you know what you're feelin' right now? Maybe we can talk about that?"

"Pain. Sorrow. Grief. Loneliness."

She sighs softly, returning her weaponry to her belt.

"Every day I wake up and wonder what terrible thing I'll feel next. My heart's broken and it's my own damn fault." An ungloved hand curls into a tight fist at her side. "But I can't break out of it. Nothing feels the same any more. I wish... I wish..."

A long silence settles between them, broken after a few moments by the slow pat of something wet hitting the snow. When Harrow searches for the source, he'll notice a few red drops below Amelia's curled up hand.

"I wish I couldn't feel anything at all."

Blood. He knows that smell, even just a hint of it. He feels his heart beat once at the sight of it, but it isn't from excitement.

It's dread.

He manages despite himself to keep his voice and his expression utterly calm He withdraws a cigarette and his silver lighter from his overshirt pocket and takes a long, silent drag. The smoke comes out not in a billow but as tiny puffs with his quiet, carefully-pronounced words.

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?..."

"I didn't say I wanted to die." Two very different things, Harrow.

As she seems to finally become aware of what's going on with her hand, she lifts it in front of her and, after wiping it off a bit, wraps her hand with a spare piece of cloth from one of her many pouches.

"Not everyone has a chance to come back from death once they've crossed that threshold and I would rather not face it just yet. If I'm to face the nightmares that await on the other side, then I want them to fucking mean something. I want my sins to be worth it."

What the hell is she on about? Nightmares in the after life? Sins? Doesn't sound like any Earth religion Harrow might have heard of.

Harrow would have interrupted her before she's gone on past her first sentence, but she's just too quick for him and it would be so rude for him to stop her.

"Good," he finally grunts, and with it flicks the tiny stubble of ash from the end of his cigarette. He laughs under his breath and explains, "'Cause I was about to fuckin' lifecoach the shit outta you for that one."

Then he points his cigarette at her and sternly says, "But don't you assume or imply I don't know the price of death just 'cause I'm risen up, Amelia, and don't you even act like I couldn't possibly know about the pointlessness of dyin' before your time and the nightmares that come after that."

Seems like nightmares makes perfect sense to this guy. Weird religion theory: Tentatively confirmed?

He pats the snow near where he sits and returns his cigarette to his mouth. Jarring as it may be to shift from the previous topic to this one, he still does his best to put on a welcoming expression. "Now have a sit-down and let's talk about your situation. Tell me what's got you hurtin' and we can riddle it all out from there. I can't promise any good answers, but I can promise I'll listen, and I can promise I'll try my best."

"It's not the same." Oh Harrow. You have no idea what she's talking about. Nightmares you can wake up from are one thing, but how do you handle an entire afterlife that stretches into eternity of them? There's no breaks, no momentary reprieve, no blissful waking.

That is what Amelia believes is waiting for her.

She turns to him when he pats the snow, but she isn't coming over to take a seat. Getting sick by sitting around in the cold after her workout isn't what she had in mind for the evening. She'll come closer, though, and pace a few feet away. "There's nothing to riddle out. I know what's wrong. I caused it and there's no turning back. What I've done... it needs to stay done. For everyone's sake."

So she's going to assume he has no idea what he's talking about, and she's going to continue to be cryptic. Harrow squints at her, strongly debating whether or not he really knows her well enough to put up with any of this bullshit. In the end, though, what else would he be doing with the rest of his night? Against his better judgement he stays put.

"So this is the kinda loss that you feel responsible for. In that case, the only way to feel better for good is to make amends in any way you can. And if what you did needs to stay done, like you said, that means all you can do is apologize to the people who need to hear an apology. Would you be one of those people, Amelia? Do you need to forgive yourself?"

"There's no one left to apologize to because they're all gone!"

She stops in her pacing, her hands shaking at her side.

"Because I closed it off. To keep all of the dangers here in the Nexus out I closed off my entire world from this place. I left my family, my city, my..."

Dreams, she hasn't dealt with this part of all of this yet. The confusion about leaving behind one love and realizing she had another waiting. Oh fuck it hurts. It hurts. She left the one behind and she can't have the other. Fuck, fuck, ow. She rubs at her eyes to get rid of the tears that are forming.

"It's all gone. And it has to stay that way."

Amelia's position is definitely a dilemma. Harrow scratches idly at one of his sideburns while the cigarette rolls side to side across his lips.

"The world that you left behind... Do you think it knows that you loved it? Your family, if someone asked them, would they say 'Amelia always loved us, and we always loved her.'?"

"The people who matter most to me know, but it doesn't make it hurt any less."

The mix of tears with the cold stings her eyes. No wonder people avoid doing this outside during the winter.

"It's not gone, Harrow, just unreachable. Most people are none the wiser about that, too." Most. Not all.

"Knowin' that they know doesn't make it hurt any less now, but as time goes on it will. When you think about the people who'll miss you in return, it'll mean the world to you to know they know you love 'em. Trust me on that one."

Since Amelia won't sit, he decides to stand. He doesn't approach her yet, but he faces her and spends a short amount of time considering her.

"I had a talk with a lady just the other day. Viatorus's sister. You ever met her?" He pauses only long enough for Amelia to think and doesn't give her time to speak. "We talked about things a person has to do in their lifetime. The big decisions, the hard ones. She reminded me that the work we gotta do, like goin' to war for our world, or protectin' our family, or," he motions toward her, "Shuttin' off the only door to our planet? It's thankless. People don't always understand it. Sometimes it feels like you can't even share your problems because of that. Like if you open your mouth and try to talk about it, someone's gonna treat you like a fool for doin' what you did. Do you feel like that? Has anyone treated you like that already? Or do you worry that someone might?"

Amelia nods at the mention of Isidor. Oh yes, she's most certainly met the woman who reminded her that her non-magical blood means she has zero chances with Viatorus. She understands exactly where Isidor is coming from, why she does things the way she does. Hell, she even understands and agrees with it, which is why she's agreed to help keep anyone else from getting so close to Viatorus as to allow him to develop feelings for them.

Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a knife to the back every time she thinks about it.

"Isidor and I have come to an understanding about many things." And that's all she's going to say about that for the moment.

"Others tried to dissuade me from the choice, but only two other people know it's done." Well, technically three, but fuck Naugus. "I have plenty of other reasons to feel the fool, and I've been reminded of that plenty already today." By what, a movie? Harrow can try and figure that out on his own, because she's moving on. "People aren't always kind to someone as abrasive as me. I don't have a lot to offer... anyone... I expect to be taken for a fool and stomped on any time I give a damn."

She's... not talking about her world anymore. That much is obvious.

She's said a lot, and more importantly left a lot unsaid. Obviously this is a delicate subject -- or multiple subjects, as the case may be. He'd hate to say something too soon before he knows the damage he could cause by speaking. Yet as unwilling as she appears to be to come right out with the information, she's still willing to speak. He might be able to learn more if he's careful.

"Who or what is makin' you feel foolish, Amelia? I figure that ain't easy. You're goin' through so much already."

"I only have myself to blame."

She wraps her arms around herself and rubs her arms for warmth. It stings her wrapped hand, but she ignores it. Her pacing continues, though she makes sure Harrow can't see her face - or the fact that her cheeks are very red right now.

"Can you... promise not to tell anyone a secret?"

Harrow glances left, then right. He even looks all the way behind him, as if he expects other people might be listening. It's only him and her for now, and the privacy of it all makes it so much easier to nod when he faces her again.

"I know how serious secrets are, Amelia. You asked me not to tell anyone, and I won't. I won't even half-truth it or kinda hint, or anything like that. Your secret's safe with me."

He nods again definitively. Unless he's a very good actor, none of that was a lie.

She peers over her shoulder at him, the red color of her face obvious before she turns away quickly.

"Viatorus came to see me the other day," she begins, her voice soft. "I asked him to come so I could see my friend and not be alone for a little while. He was so kind and comforting. I've... never been held that close before, never been the one being comforted before, either. It was so... nice."

Her grip on her arms tightens slightly. "I had a terrible dream while he was there, and I was really hard on myself. And then... I couldn't help it. I just..."

She stops pacing and pulls her hood up over her head. "I told him I loved him. I kissed him, too. And then he did the right thing and pushed me away."

Oh, Light. It's love. He was so sure he'd be walking less delicately once he knew about the situation, but this really only complicates things. People don't want to hear the truth in love, and, more importantly, you never want to be in the position to tell someone the truth – or what you believe is the truth. They have to make their own mistakes. And, honestly, it sounds like Amelia has.

With all of that on his mind it's exceedingly difficult for Harrow to keep a straight face. He raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes and allows his look of confusion and surprise to be quickly redirected. "Viatorus?" he asks. "I didn't know you two were so close. Shoot..."

He looks all around, and suddenly wishes he was sitting again. That's easily remedied. He sets himself down in the snow once more and pats a thoughtful beat against his knees.

"So you had feelings for Viatorus. You told him that. You kissed him. And he needed space."

Deep breath in, no breath out.

He looks up at Amelia, studies her face closely.

"Can I ask why you love him? Is that too personal?" It's a seemingly serious question of good intentions and honest curiosity. There's no subtle insult there behind his words – or at least he doesn't mean for there to be.

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If this is too triggering in any way, let me know and I'll change it :o

Nope! It's cool

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You feel free to decide if this convo takes place before or after Amelia's chat with Isi!

We're going to say after, since that post was already going when we started this one =]

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