westfallcorndog | Here Because of You (For Isidor)

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isidor

Here Because of You (For Isidor)

It's only been a few days since returning to the Nexus from Tamriel, but Harrowheart can't stop worrying about Isidor. She came out alive from everything they saw, but it's what they saw that worries him. He remembers what it's like, of course he does. How utterly unsettling it is to be a living person faced with monstrosities like that. The fear of it has faded with time, but he still remembers how sickening it all was the first time he saw the Scourge.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and his first thought is, 'Fuck me.' He still doesn't have Isidor's number. This is getting to be bullshit. Viatorus is going to start getting wise to how often he asks to spend time with his sister, and then the whole thing is going to come tumbling down. At least this time he has the excuse of an 'adventure' to cover for him.

V my man how are you doing? Are people being nice to you? Do I need to beat Peenia or Sajean up for you? Anyone at all? And when are we hanging out next?

Good, good cover. And honest, too. The last time they did anything interesting was when they went fishing, and after everything on Tamriel that feels like a lifetime ago. A little casual time with Viatorus would be great right about now.

How is your sister? I need to talk to her about things that happened. Do you think you can get her in touch with me? If she can meet me tell her to come to the clearing where we worked on magic training.

He expects Viatorus will pull through for him. Of course he will. That's why he's already in the clearing lying on top of the picnic bench, his runeblade resting on the ground beneath it. Nothing here has changed since the last time she arrived, apart from the turn of the seasons... And the little area of ground that she flattened for a fighting ring. It seems Harrowheart expanded on her work, turning a circle of flat pounded ground into a large square of hard-packed dirt.

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"So you are havin' bad dreams," he says with a small nod. "But you haven't gone to that boy who fixes 'em? What's his name again? Some kinda scholar... Think he might be a Durant..."

He scratches his sideburn and looks around as he tries so very hard to recall the boy's name.

Isidor narrows her eyes at Harrowheart and gives his chest a light thwap that has no effort behind it. "As if you would ask Matt or Michael to go into your head and face the things you've seen."

Harrowheart tosses his head back and laughs at the slap. "No, I wouldn't! But that's cause they're a couple'a dumbasses! Viatorus is a genius!"

A mischievous spark lights in his eyes and he bites his lip as he considers her face. "But if you won't go to V, then I guess I'll have to try my hand at fixin' it. Come here!"

He hooks his arm around her neck and pulls her over so that he can look at the top of her head while she's trapped. He peers at her hair like an ape searching for fleas and dramatically "Hmmm!"s at what he sees.

"Yep, there they are! All your bad dreams. Let me just pick through these and take out the scary stuff..."

The first two fingers of his free hand 'walk' across her head like he's leafing through files. "That one... And that one... Oh, that one's real bad, better fix that up. And -- Hey! That one's about me! Oh, but that's not bad, just naughty. I'm leavin' that one to keep you company."

He finishes his 'dreamwalking' by ruffling her hair and lets her go free with a laugh and a smugly proud smile. "You're fixed now," he says, and can't keep a little giggle from bubbling up. "All your bad zombie memories are gone, so if you have any more tell yourself that they're just your imagination. Nothing in your mind is gonna hurt you, but if it tries, just remember the little Me I left there to keep you safe."

Give a man an inch and he takes a mile. Or in Harrowheart's case: Give a playful slap and he drags you into a headlock. Isidor's arm flail as one hand grips his arm and the other pushes against the table to keep her upright.

"What are you-?" Her indignation doesn't quite have the same fire to it as it usually does. She squirms in his grip and scowls loudly. For a minute she resigns herself to her fate. Until he mentions naughty dreams and she lets go of the table to start batting at him. "Hey! Stop that!"

As soon as he releases her she sets about trying to salvage her hairstyle, but it's too ruffled and with a sigh she pulls it down again to start redoing it. Still, it isn't a complete waste. From where he is Harrowheart can probably see the small smile she's trying to hide. She glances at him, shaking her head disapprovingly, but it's only when she turns back and begins running her fingers through her hair that it fades.

She wishes it were that easy. It's surprising how well he can distract her, but what about when he's not there? Back to jumping at shadows and crying in the shower?

Isidor steals another glance at him and then focuses on the suddenly intricate task of doing her hair. "Are you really going to come over? Don't you have... what do they call it in the army... shifts? Rounds to do?"

Harrowheart doesn't answer right away. He needs a moment to process this. Is she actually inviting him to stay with her? Letting him in on the secret that is her life outside of the Nexus? He watches as she does her hair, oblivious to the surprise on his face.

"Yes!" he finally says too loudly. "I-I mean, no! I mean..."

He clears his throat and, like Isidor, has to look away to continue the conversation. With the best enunciation he can muster he assures her, "What I mean to say is that I haven't got any commitments more important than you. I'd be happy to keep you company, and I promise I'll be a gentleman."

Returning to her with a renewed enthusiasm he whispers eagerly, "It'll be like a redo of Tamriel. Like campin'. You and me together spendin' the night. I'll cook for you, we can look out your window at the stars, and when you go to sleep it'll be on a real bed. There won't be anyone around to see us, and I won't have to hide away in a suit of armor."

Again her eyes slide to give him a sideways look, this time with a hint of sly smile. "Of course you'll be a gentleman. You know I can kick your ass."

The rest of it does sound nice, though. Too nice. Immediately she starts wondering if something might go wrong. What should she prepare for? What should they avoid? She closes her eyes and pushes those thoughts aside.

When she opens them again, she ties up her ponytail and then looks at him. "Do you need to go and sort anything out first? Get anything you might want?"

He pats the pockets of his shorts, feeling for his things. Phone, cigarettes... What else could a man need? Oh, that's right! His soul-consuming murderblade! He leans to the side and holds his hand out. The runeblade that had been resting on the ground rises and guides itself to his hand. He turns it so that he can rest his elbow against its hilt while its blade pierces the frosty ground. "All ready here, but..."

Harrowheart plucks at his shirt with his free hand and looks at Isidor worriedly. "Should I dress nicer, though?"

Isidor slowly raises an eyebrow. "Dress nicer? To come to my house?"

Oh. Oh he's never seen it. Does he think she lives somewhere like the Archon? Some big house or extravagant manor?

She smiles strangely at him. "No. No, you'll be fine."

Getting to her feet, she pulls out her PINpoint. While she waits for him she eyes the runeblade, but she tries to smile for him once he's in front of her. With a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "Ready then?"

What a relief. He stands, smiles, and claps his hand to hers. "As I've ever been."

They arrive directly into her apartment. It's layout is exactly the same as Viatorus' with a slightly lower view outside the large windows. That is about the only thing that relates the two spaces.

Isidor slips off her shoes and sets them by the door, then she walks into a living space full of modern, sharp cut shapes. The couches are strictly rectangular, the shelves and cabinets are black and box-like. Everything is cleanly cut and contrasting with whites and blacks making up the majority of the furniture. Not a thing is out of place. Even the books and ornaments on the shelves look like they have been placed with purpose.

"Do you want something to drink?" She's already starting towards one of the doors, but then she stops and looks back at him. "I'm not Viatorus, either. You can ask for something stronger than tea."

The first thing Harrowheart does is stop and stare. Of course that's what he does! He takes in the sights around him slowly, his gaze lingering on her rectangular couches the longest. Only when he sees her movements out of the corner of his eye does he snap back to attention. He follows her lead and quietly removes his shoes. It's only good manners, after all. His runeblade can stay there by the door as well, and in a moment of thoughtfulness he turns it so that the skull on the hilt is facing the wall rather than the apartment at large.

When she heads toward the door he remains near the entrance of the apartment as if he were lost. He's allowed to be in Isidor's apartment. He's still processing this. At least until she speaks and brings him back to reality once more. When he realizes what she's said he smiles, and doing so brings him the confidence to leave the safety of the doorway.

"She brings me to her house and then she tries to liquor me up." He wags a finger at her and grins. He's onto you. "I'll tell you what: Get me whatever you're havin', but if it's alcoholic you accept that I'm gonna lose my inhibitions and flatter you with compliments all night."

He wanders to the window then but is mindful not to get too close. What if someone sees him? Still, he's so tempted to admire Earth. As he looks out the window he calls to Isidor just loudly enough to be heard wherever she's gone off to. "This the same building as where your brother lives? Closer to the ground though?" He plants his hands on his hips and smiles faintly. "Course it's closer to the ground. 'Cause you're an Earth mage, and a stable lady, and I bet you think about wild scenarios like 'What if I gotta jump out the window? Can I make the fall?' That's real you. The whole place is real you. Furniture and everything."

A few seconds of silence pass before he anxiously calls, "I'm allowed to sit on it, right?"

Isidor rolls her eyes and starts to walk into the kitchen when he accuses her of trying to liquor him up. "Coffee it is, then," she mumbles and gets the coffee maker started.

She steps back into the room to set down a plate of biscuits on the table. While she's there she points to the ceiling. "V is in the apartment above mine." With a deep breath she adds, "A decision I made before I remembered he would be getting married, of course." Narrowing her eyes fondly at his teasing she continues, "And being closer to the ground is safer."

Heading back into the kitchen, she starts pouring their drinks and has to try not to laugh at his question. What does he think, that she's going to make him sit on the floor? ... Oh wait, maybe he does think that. Isidor shakes her head. Azeroth is weird. "Yes, you can sit on it," she calls back, hesitates and then adds, "On the chairs."

The next time she returns she sets down the two cups and a coffee pot. Like the furniture they're simple and dark. As soon as they're set down, Isidor locks her fingers, looks around the place, and then to Harrowheart. Now that she's here with a friend, a man, in her home, she finds herself feeling a little awkward. "I... don't really have people around," she admits with a smile to hide her unease. "If you want anything tell me and I'll sort it out."

When Isidor returns Harrowheart is, in fact, in one of the chairs. He sits with his palms pressed together between his knees and an anxious look on his face that betrays his worry and excitement in equal measures. Excuse him, he's still enjoying the novelty of this entire situation.

The appearance of the coffee takes him by surprise. Somehow he thought she might actually bring out the alcohol. He's fairly sure he just learned something about Isidor. For the briefest of moments he realizes he must have sounded indistinguishable from that obnoxious young man at Viatorus' engagement.

"All I want is to spend a little time with you," he says quietly. "Everything else don't really matter."

He takes the cup of coffee she's set out for him and holds it in one hand but doesn't drink it yet. As he looks around the apartment – even at the ceiling – he begins to realize something.

"We've known each other so long, and we've been through so much," he says, eyes busy considering the details of her cabinets, "But sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about your personal life. I know..."

He takes a sip of the coffee and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I know this place looks like someplace you'd live. I like it. I'm just sorry more folks don't get invited over to like it too."

He clears his throat and finally looks at her, then faintly smiles. He means what he said. "I know somethin' I want, if you don't mind me askin'. I want... To hear a nice story about you. Tell me a memory that makes you happy."

Now that he's further in he can see a few more features. The main wall has a fireplace, above which hangs a multi-piece canvas of red and gold abstract art. A pair of matching sculptures sit parallel to each other, twisting gold reminiscent of a flame. Mostly, though, everything is in its place. Even a couple of magazines, one half opened on an article revisiting the tale of Icarus for modern audiences, look to be very particularly chosen and set. It's with this same careful thought that Isidor picks her seat on the couch. Not too close to Harrowheart, but not a solitary armchair.

She sits back into her seat, eyes off in the distance as she considers what Harrowheart says, and then asks. "A memory that makes me happy..." It takes her a minute, but then she smiles softly. "Alright." Decision made, she faces Harrowheart properly. "When we were younger Viatorus and I travelled a lot to learn all the things we had to learn. One of the places we visited most often was Greece, because our priest and priestesses are based there and so is the main temple of Despoina."

"I never really liked it much there, but I did look forward to the parties we got to attend." She leans on the armrest, moving a little closer to Harrowheart. "There were always lots of family members, lots of friends of the family, and lots of people looking to impress the family, which meant lots of parties of every kind. Some of them were boring, some of them were good fun, but in all of them I was the Archon's daughter and people treated me like royalty even though I was just a child... Of course I was also the Archon's daughter so I was on my best behaviour." A cheeky grin sneaks onto her face and she shrugs. "If a bit quick witted and sharp tongued..."

"Anyway, I remember a particular party." Her eyes slide to one side as she recalls the memory. "I must have been seven or eight, and there was this... beautiful dancer they hired. She was a mage and she used fire to dance and I'd... never seen anything like it. I remember watching her and being completely in awe. So when the same person invited us back I was so excited because I got to see her again." Her cheeks start to burn and she shakes her head, but she can't help her smile. "I must have looked a sight because our host laughed and said I looked like I was in love." Her smile becomes a smirk. "Stathis asked if I was in love with the dancing or the casting."

"When she was done they introduced me to her. Her name was Clarisa and I liked her the moment she opened her mouth." Isidor tips her head at Harrowheart. "She spoke her mind, and she didn't hesitate." With a sigh she continues, "We spoke for a while and then she offered to teach me how to dance like her. I said no, I didn't have time for dancing, I only had time for fighting. I... was surrounded by a lot of men who I admired. I was sure that twirling around with a skirt looking pretty would make me lose their respect. But Clarisa told me that warriors are proud to dance. She talked so passionately that she managed to get my uncle to agree with her, the host too, until she had convinced me that dancing was a noble warrior's tradition."

Isidor picks up her coffee and sits back into her seat. "That year was the year I started to learn a dance that wasn't for the ballroom. Something that was mine, and that I chose. I don't know that my family approved, but they didn't disapprove." She sipped her coffee and then laughed, "Or maybe they just couldn't stop Clarisa."

He nods with her 'alright.' His hands grasp his mug and he leans in closer to listen for the story he's already eager to hear. He nods along with the small details – Greece, religion, temples, the goddess Despoina whose name he's heard invoked from time to time. At 'royalty' he tips his head and his mug and smiles. Sounds about right. Her follow-up about sharp tongues gets a little laugh from him. Definitely sounds right.

When her cheeks turn red his smile twists up into something knowing, but he's patiently quiet until her story is done. Only when it's his turn to speak does he suggest, "Sounds like Little Isidor had her first crush." As much as he's amused by it he seems to mean it.

He sits in silence for a short while, sips his coffee, and watches Isidor warmly. "She was your lady role model, wasn't she? Maybe someday you can be the Clarisa that some other little girl needs. Viatorus' children, maybe."

A few more seconds of quiet thought and his placid smile turns mischievous. He sets his mug down on the table and stands, then turns around and lifts up his chair as casually as one can. He moves it to a far edge of the room, clearing a little bit of space.

"Let's dance," he suggests as he goes in for the table. He's got to lift this with a little more finesse to avoid spilling any coffee. His attention flicks between his feet and the coffee as he slowly takes the table to where he'd left his chair. Once it's out of his hands he mimes dusting his palms and smiles at her.

"Or should I say, teach me how to be your dance partner." He returns to her to offer an outstretched hand still warm like the living from the mug he'd held.

Will he make a fool out of himself for the second time since being invited to her apartment, or will she take him up on his offer?

"I did not," she says, though it's more out of reflex than any insistence. Then she hides behind her cup as she sips at her coffee. Her half-scowl fades when Harrowheart continues. Viatorus' children... now there's a strange thought. Even though she knew they would both have to have children, she never thought about them, never wondered what it would be like. "I guess..."

Her eyes snap into focus when Harrowheart stands and she sits up, ready to help her guest with whatever he needs. Which is... to rearrange her furniture. She frowns as she watches him, trying to understand what he's doing and why. He doesn't keep her confused for long, soon offering her his hand.

Isidor blanches, looking from Harrowheart to his hand and then back again. She sits forward, holding her breath, lips half-parted... and then she sits back again with a sigh and looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I... I don't think I can." She's silent for a minute, looking everywhere but Harrowheart even when she speaks up again. "When I dance it's because I have a fire inside me. Right now I... I just feel empty."

Empty. What a crushing way to describe your own inner workings. It's for the best that Isidor isn't looking at him when she says it; that way she doesn't have to see the way his face twitches with the briefest frown. Anything he can do to fix this is going to be superficial, isn't it?

"Now I know how you feel," he mumbles aloud, then pulls back his hand to scrub it across his mouth and chin.

When his hand drops to his side again he lowers himself to his knees so that he's nearly on level with Isidor. He crosses his arms and rests them lightly on her knees. He looks up at her and begins to speak but finds that the words don't come easily. Not when he's distracted by her face, anyway. Unable to stay posed like he was he moves to rest his back beside her legs against her chair. His nearest arm lightly loops around her calves and he heaves a sigh.

"It's hard to hear you don't feel right, or good. And... It's scary to think that maybe I can't fix it. When I know you're not happy but I don't know what to do about it, don't know how to make it better, I feel..." Another sigh and a quiet scoff. "Like a failure."

He has to turn around now, has to look her in the face again. He untangles his arm from her legs and rests his elbow on her knee as he props himself up to keep her in his sight. "Not just with this empty feelin', but with all the empty feelings you get. Like the expectations your family puts on you, or when you're scared for Viatorus, or when you want–"

He stops short. Pauses. Tries to force a smile that comes out as a guilty wince. "When I want to hold your hand in public and hope you want that too, but even if you did we both know we can't. Problems like that. Things that get to hurt you that I can't fight off. I'm still figurin' out how to deal with that."

He returns to sitting with his back against the couch. "When your fire's out and you're empty inside, what do I do to fix that?" Rhetorical. He knows neither of them know. It's an accident when a huff of a half-humorless laugh passes his lips. "Light the fireplace," he jokes. He turns his head and grins hopefully at her.

"And maybe do a dance you gotta be empty inside to do? You said you didn't care for ballroom, huh? Well, teach me that. We'll do our empty-inside dance together, until maybe bein' with each other is enough to make that feelin' go away."

Edited 2018-01-21 04:39 (UTC)

Isidor's gaze slides to meet his when he kneels, brow turned up apologetically. It wasn't what he was hoping to hear from her, and watching him try to comfort her when even she doesn't understand what's wrong feels so cruel. She turns away to wring her hands, only looking at him when she spies him looking at her.

If she had any answers she would give them to him, but she doesn't. Instead she stays quiet and listens to him think aloud. What a mess she is. What a mess she's dragged him into.

At the suggestion of a ballroom dance she makes a conscious effort to turn her forlorn expression into a sceptical one. There's even a hint of a smile. "You'll be bored. It's boring."

"Probably!" Harrowheart admits with a laugh. He offers her his considerably less warm hand once more and helps her to her feet. Rather than prepare to dance, though, he makes good on his promise of lighting the fireplace.

Using his silver lighter he gets a little spark going in the fireplace, then quickly retracts his hand. He's making progress here tonight, he's not looking to get burnt.

In the open space he's created in her apartment he stands before her, and that's about as far as his confidence takes him. He suddenly isn't sure what to do with any part of himself, and so stands in front of Isidor with his back straight, his heels together, and his hands folded. He is ready to do the Gentlemanly Activity.

Edited (ITALICS!!) 2018-01-22 19:57 (UTC)

Although she sighs as she accepts his hand there's still that suggestion of a smile as she gets to her feet. While he lights a fire, an action that she's retroactively impressed by once she sees it, she picks some music for them to dance to. Spotting a track her lips tug upwards for a half second and she puts it on before turning back to him. As the music starts she can't help but smile at Harrowheart.

"You look like a soldier," she tells him. "Here..." Stepping up close, Isidor gently pulls his hands apart, placing one on her shoulder blade and keeping the other in her hand. She rests her other hand on his arm, checks their position and then starts explaining. "The waltz is the first dance I was ever taught. The basics are six steps, don't worry we'll go slowly."

She runs him through stepping forward with his left foot, bringing his right foot forward as he steps to the side and then putting his feet together again. Then it's just a matter of doing the reverse, stepping back with his right foot, bringing his left back and stepping to the side before bringing their feet together again. "Simple enough?"

Harrow's head bobs with the first few beats of the music, but by the time Isidor is repositioning him all his focus is on her. It's one thing for him to surprise her with a touch, but somehow he finds himself a touch embarrassed when she's the one who puts his hand on her back. A few seconds in and his cheeks have turned the faintest bit darker.

She walks him through the steps and asks if it's simple, but his reply is only a watery laugh. It's only six steps, it's got to be simple! Except not when you've never done it. He has to repeat it a few times, eyes on the ground to be sure he doesn't step on her feet. Light, but she knows this so much better than him. Every time he's sure he's going to trample her she's already out of the way.

He starts counting his steps as he goes, humming wordless little 'one, two, three' beats that soon grow slower, fall into time with the music. Having the song to guide him helps him keep his pace, but he still feels the need to check his feet with every change of direction.

"I wish I woulda gone home and gotten that fancy outfit of mine," he finally says, punctuating it with a small smile. "We coulda pretended we were dancin' like this at your brother's party." He checks his feet and then it's back to her face.

"When do I get to dip you?" he asks, his eyes bright with expectation. "The man dips the lady in a dance like this, right? Or do we do that twirl? You know the kind, where we spread arm's length apart and come back together?"

Unlike Harrowheart Isidor is making sure not to check their feet since that would almost inevitably result in head butting. She opens her mouth, about to say something, when he asks about dips and twirls. She blinks at him. This time it's her turn for her cheeks to flush slightly, but she manages to keep her voice even.

"Well… You need to learn how to rise and fall as you step, first." Yes, Isidor, distract him quickly. "You rise and fall as you waltz. Like this…" She demonstrates, bending her knees to dip on one step and straightening them again on the next. "The dance is meant to have a graceful, gliding effect. After you get the hang of that we can talk about dips and twirls."

And distract him she does. Harrowheart watches closely as she dips between steps and rises at the pause. That doesn't look so hard! He can do that!

The first time he falls too deeply, but he quickly finds his rhythm. He feels himself succeeding and his look of concentration turns to a small smile.

As he repeats the steps his hum-counting turns into an actual song. A familiar tune about a tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme...

His humming turns to quiet singing. "Just a little change." It's the perfect cadence to count his steps as he leads her in large circle. "Small to say the least..." He glances at his feet and looks back with a smile that poorly hides the way his cheeks darken.

"Barely even friends, then somebody bends..." He starts like he's going to dip her, moving in close with his hand tight against her back to brace her. She hardly drops an inch before he straightens again, laughing so quietly. "Unexpectedly!"

It wouldn't be fair to surprise her like that, but it's too fun not to scare her just a bit. He winks before he continues their boring waltz. "Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, beauty and the beast."

He glances out the window, then back to Isidor. "Just like in the movie, huh?"

Edited 2018-01-23 15:31 (UTC)

Never in a million years did Isidor think she would be teaching Harrowheart how to waltz, and she certainly never would have expected him to be good at it. Yet here they are, waltzing simply in her apartment after just a few instructions. It's in this little bizarre little thought that Isidor is lost until another surprise brings her back to the present. Harrowheart is... singing?

No sooner has she blinked at him in curious shock than he almost, almost bends her. An audible gasp slips past her lips and her grip tightens, but then they both straighten and they continue dancing. She's still trying to decide what to say when he finishes his song and asks her a question.

She blinks at him and fumbles for an answer. "Um. Yes? I... never saw the movie." Ah, there, she can look at him strangely again. That's a familiar feeling. "You've watched Earth movies?"

If Harrowheart had grown up with Western Earth culture he might have taken a moment to be scandalized at meeting someone who's never seen Beauty and the Beast. As it is his eyes alight and his smile becomes so wonderfully happy. "We gotta watch it together, then," he says, and briefly fumbles his steps in his distraction. A breath's pause and he's back in the motions of the dance.

"I watch all sorts of Earth movies, sure. I like most of 'em a lot. It's better than readin' for sure, 'cause I can sit back and have a story told to me without worryin' about how long it takes me to finish a book."

A few more steps and, curious, he asks, "You don't watch movies, then? Not at all? No television or nothin'? Too busy, I bet. You should try it sometime."

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