InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "yo momma sez you hungry"

from_the_beast (from_the_beast) wrote in haunted_roads,
@ 2008-03-25 23:36:00

Entry tags:

justine, mikkos

Week Four: Saturday
Who: Mikkos and Justine
Where: Chroma Gallery
When: Saturday night
What: Didn’t think Mikkos was going to stay away long once he found out, did you?

Abstract art. When last Mikkos had been in this world this type of artistic expression did not even exist. At least not in any respected form. Perhaps the frustrated expressions of drunken, or otherwise influenced painters. They’d have considered it a wasted canvas likely. In some, Mikkos noticed, it was actually quite interesting. In others… just weird.

Knowing Justine, she was just being helpful to a starving artist in showing his work. Anything to help a person in need. It was such helpfulness that alerted her business, and her, to Mikkos. An underground shop to give proper ID to those in need. Mikkos knew. He’d found out days ago. But he had waited, not knowing when, or if he should show. He knew he wanted to show, to see her. But that, he knew, was a can of worms no one wanted open. Visiting her, now, tomorrow, a hundred years from now, was asking for trouble, even if Mikkos had no intention of dragging any of them through what they’d been through before.

With Nikolaos off playing somewhere, Mikkos decided he’d at least pay a visit to this gallery. He wanted to see what his former love was into, where her passion was. And maybe, just maybe, he’d glimpse her as well.

Once inside, he felt her presence everywhere. He was in no hurry to leave, though there was no evidence that she herself was there. He couldn’t feel her, though Mikkos understood with new buildings they built all sorts of safeguards to protect against such knowledge. After a few moments he was approached by one of the staff. Would he like a glass of wine? The house brand, the first glass of which was, on the house, or something a little more specific perhaps? Mikkos turned to him, the pretty little human boy, and asked if they had Loire region, vintage 1789. It was, mostly facetious, though he was interested to see the reaction. And if they had it, all the better.

Maybe Justine herself would be inclined to bring it to him.

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savageallure
2008-03-26 04:58 am UTC (link)

Inevitably, she always ended up at Chroma. Surely it could run itself by now, but Justine was so taken with her little establishment that she couldn't help but give it the attention she felt it deserved. Besides, if she ran out of those legit tasks to master, she could always peek in on the documents being produced underground. This had to be done more carefully, of course, she didn't want to draw unneeded attention, but it still had to be done.

Tonight, however, was payroll night. Generally it took a little over an hour to iron out whatever glitches might have occurred, cutting the checks in actuality was only a fraction of her evening. She was nearly through when a loud knock sounded against her door and Marlowe, her main lounge manager, leaned in to interrupt her momentarily. "Madame, we have a request for one of the Loire's.....1789." The gallery had it, it was Justine's favorite vintage after all, but never before had it been ordered by another patron. The stash of bottles kept in the cellar was usually enjoyed by herself and no one else. Her curiosity was definitely peeked.

"Bring me up a bottle, will you? I'll deliver it myself." Marlowe nodded and ducked out to fetch the vintage from storage, leaving Justine to finish her last few tasks before payroll was complete. She locked away the ledger and smoothed the simple black dress she wore, purchased at Chloe's boutique of course before Marlowe was returning, bottle in hand.

"Which lounge?" she took the Loire from him, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she leaned down to shut off the lamp sitting at the edge of her desk. The two left her office, making their way down the hall towards the very heart of Chroma, "The main lounge. The man seated in the back, black couch." Nodding, Justine paused at the bar for a moment to fetch a clean piece of stemware, steering her path towards the area Marlowe had directed her to.

She didn't see him at first, Chroma was packed as usual, but the softest strains of a familiar scent touched her nostrils. It was vaguely familiar in a way she couldn't place off the bat, though it reminded her a bit of the strange young man she'd shown about the gallery a handful of days prior. As she drew closer the crowd, like the Red Sea itself, parted to allow her a perfect, uninterrupted glimpse of a face she hadn't seen in centuries, a face she'd never thought she'd see again. The glass she'd paused to pick up, clasped loosely in one hand, slipped from her grip in that moment of utter surprise and shattered at her feet. Shards bounced against the black suede of the knee-high boots she wore, scattering across the floor. Within seconds her staff was there sweeping it up, but she paid them little mind, choosing instead to cross the distance that still remained between she and Mikkos.

"What are you doing here?" No point in wasting time. "And don't tell me you came for a glass of Loire, either."

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from_the_beast
2008-03-27 04:05 am UTC (link)

The cost of the vintage had to be by now, monumental. It was after all, over two hundred years old. Nearly as old as this country in which they now stood. Really strange some times to think of how much had changed on the surface, while so little ever did in hell. Mikkos wondered about Justine, if she had changed as much as the worl which she occupied, and if she had, in what ways?

Would she know him? Would she even care?

He could only imagine the level of anger at his leaving when he had, the way in which he had. No, he didn’t kid himself that she hadn’t hated him for it. A hatred he was now fully prepared to face. Still, it would be nice to see her. His trip to the surface just wouldn’t be complete without having done so.

She’d done well for herself, that much he could see. All the Baptistes had, though that was no surprise, they always did well. He’d learned a bit about them once he found someone not shut up by his family, learned things they couldn’t keep from him forever. What did they think? A little knowledge about his old friends, his once love, and he was going to forsake all he had and move back to the surface? Somehow he wouldn’t be surprised to hear they thought that. Such little faith. But what place had faith in Hell? If any did believe in him, in his loyalty to the family, it would be Nik. Which was one reason Mikkos preferred to keep knowledge this curiosity away from his son. Even if he thought nothing of it, if it came to others in the family, Mikkos prefer Nik not also be looked at with such distrust. His own reputation had no need to be tainted.

In this dimly lit lounge vision so suited to the shadows managed to find her well before she saw him, though her own sight was far stronger than any humans, and even most demons. Justine too often denied her preternatural gifts. At least in those days she had. Mikkos wouldn’t know if she still was the same in those respects. His heart sped up slightly before he calmed it, a sign she likely would have caught with that vampiric sense of everyone’s blood within a mile.

The dropped glass brought an amused smile to his lips and Mikkos rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. “Why not? It’s good wine as I recall. Or maybe it was just the company which brought such fond memories.” He smiled. His eyes holding her own rather than sweeping over her familiar form as a cad such as he would so often be guilty of. Her eyes held him, the anger, the pain.

“But to be honest,” he sighed. “It was for you, not the wine.” Like that was any surprise. God she was beautiful. Breathtaking. Just exactly as he remembered. And here he'd begun to wonder if his memory had taken on a life of it's own.

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savageallure
2008-03-27 05:07 am UTC (link)

"I'll have you know," Justine lowered her voice so that anyone nearby wouldn't be privy to the conversation between the two, "that, were we anywhere but in the very heart of my establishment, I'd slap you soundly for talking to me as if we parted amicably." She could barely stomach the nerve he must have...to come to her place of business, to try and flatter her. What did she want? Well that was truly impossible to say - it had been centuries since she'd seen him. He'd been all but written off as a chapter of her past, one that seemed highly unlikely to ever be revisited.

And yet here he was. In Seattle. In Chroma.

"I'm sure you didn't come for me," a slight smirk twisted at the corner of her lips, "not to the surface, at least. Here, perhaps. But I assume now that you've satisfied whatever curiosities you had, that you will go?" No point in rehashing all the heartache cultivated over a century or two...what would that accomplish for either of them?

Surely he could see by now that the Justine before him was quite different than the one he had left in the past. It was more than just the physical transformation, though that was dramatic as well. Those once lengthy locks now merely brushed her shoulders, framing a face of delicate features and those - currently stormy - jade eyes that he had once loved. Standing as she did allowed a glimpse of the few tattoos that now littered her flesh, perhaps the most surprising change of all. But, no....it was more than that. It was in the straightness of her spine, the surity that had only come from picking oneself up time and time again. The eldest Baptiste had always had a reputation for being rather icy, but now....well now she'd earned her frost. He would find that she no longer easily melted for him as she once had.

"I assume you won't truly be leaving until you've satisfied whatever urge brought you here, but I'd rather not have this discussion here. We can talk in my office, if you'd like," she handed the bottle of Loire off to Marlowe as he interrupted momentarily to check on her. After all, the loss of composure was so unlike her. A brief reassuring smile and he was skittering off, allowing Justine to turn and lead the way (should Mikkos choose to follow) her down the hall and into her office.

"Now," she closed the door behind them and moved to take a seat behind her desk, "what do you want? Truly."

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from_the_beast
2008-03-27 06:00 am UTC (link)

Their parting had been no easier on Mikkos. Hell, he’d been torn against his will, from the world he’d come to cherish and tossed back into Hell. In the same moment he’d been stripped of whatever freedoms he’d had. No, he’d hated it and for years fought against it. But like her, he had eventually moved on, settling into his life, accepting that she would never be a part of it. As much as he had once fooled himself that she might be.

And now? Foolishly almost, he smiled. At the sight of her, at the way her eyes flashed deadly daggers at the sight of him, he smiled though a part of him wished to do the opposite, he smiled because here was the same fiery, indignant vampiress he’d first met and fallen for. He smiled, knowing the sight of that alone would anger her even more.

Her next words however, did manage to wipe that smile completely from his face. After all, she was right. He hadn’t come for her. And here, as was often the case, he was left slightly confused. To admit the truth would anger her, of course, possibly with good reason. No, definitely with good reason. To lie however, would insult her even further.

She must have sense this because a moment later she suggested moving the conversation to her office. Better to speak of things more pleasant. Or else his own temper might flare, and even Mikkos would not wish to deny her the anger she most certainly deserved. His own would not be so really, merely reactionary.. For now he’s keep it in check.

Certainly she had changed, in many ways, far more than he even, though time move so slow in Hell. The cropped hair he might label a disappointment, and the tattoos… probably ot. They were interesting, striking, but her pale, flawless skin he’d always believed to be so as well. He would mention neither of these however. More insult to injury? No, Mikkos was no fool. No matter how he at times might act it.

His own composure had not suffered an ounce, being one well accustomed to battles of every kind. Any glances his way were ignored as meaningless, it was her glance he cared about after all, and not those of strangers.

In a moment he stood in her office though she had chosen to sit. No, he did not squirm or feel himself “in trouble” as their physical positions might imply. In fact, he relaxed utterly and looked at her as an old love he could not take his eyes from. This was after all, the truth.

“Exactly what I said.” He shrugged. “Do my words feel like lies? A label of deserter is deserved I suppose. But liar?” He cocked his head questioningly. “I wanted to see you. Is that so difficult to believe?”

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savageallure
2008-03-27 03:02 pm UTC (link)

The sight of that smile was infuriating, just as he'd surely known that it would be. But years of hiding heartache from siblings who knew you too well had provided Justine with the tools to hide a reaction much more thoroughly than she ever had in the past. Other than a sharpening of the cool, jade gaze that was affixed to him, there was no other sign that his smug little grin had even registered with her. She wasn't foolish enough to think that he didn't relish her reactions, to know that he could affect her now even after all these years, but she could make it hard for him to savor these little cracks in the ice, could steal a bit of the victory from it all.

The old Justine might have smacked him right then and there for it, to wipe that expression from his face, but she had reigned in the fiery temper that burned beneath such a put-together front and instead turned on her heel to lead him back to her office. Once the door was closed it was easier to talk more freely with one another - here no one could overhear, here they could shout at one another if the mood struck them and no one would truly be the wiser. She wouldn't shout, of course, wouldn't let him know he could still affect her to push her towards such anger, but the thought of it still lingered.

"Whether your words are lies or not, why would I ever believe a single thing you have to say?" She had trusted him once, completely...against everyone's wishes, against their best advice, and just where had that gotten her? For awhile she wasn't sure she'd ever recover from the loss - it was better now to never open oneself up in that manner again; it was safer, really. "You vanished on our wedding night. Deserter is really too kind a word for what you turned out to be."

Justine relaxed against the back of her office chair, one slim leg crossed over the other, utterly at ease seemingly in spite of the topic of their conversation. "And now you've seen me. I'm not sure why you've chosen to pop up here in Seattle or what you thought coming here yourself to see me would truly accomplish." Had he even sought to accomplish anything?

"I'd assumed you were dead, you know," she admitted after a moment, her eyes raising to meet his. It was hard to keep her anger, her hurt in check even after all these years, but sometimes with Justine it was the icy detachedness that could be worse, those moments when she locked herself away to keep from being touched that could burn more than any shouting match ever could.

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from_the_beast
2008-03-30 02:41 am UTC (link)

He did, truly, relish her reactions, all of them. To know that he affected her, in whatever way. To see, and feel, her steely cool falter and reward him with something heated, frantic, angry, passionate. The sharpening of her hard gaze on him now, was more than he’d even expected, and appreciated, much as it also tugged at him as well.

“You’re right, of course.” He eyed her, rounded the desk to lean against it, inches away from her. This was better, nice and close. “No reason to believe me. But if you’re interested I’ll tell you anyway, since I think you do have a right to know.” Too bad she’d sent the wine back. Really sounded good right about now.

He opened his jacket and withdrew a cigarette, lighting it without asking. “Family business.” Always family business. And if it hadn’t been for Dorian Mikkos would still be in Hell, seeing to other family business. As to what he’d hoped to accomplish in seeing her? Nothing productive. In fact, the entire thing was despite all of his rational thinking.

But Mikkos never had been very rational when it came to Justine.

He nodded. “I know. It was what they wanted you to believe. As for what I knew… not much. They kept me in the dark as much as possible.”

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savageallure
2008-03-30 03:06 am UTC (link)

She'd rather liked the space between them and now there he was, invading what little safety bubble she'd had, lighting up that damned cigarette. She stood and moved across the room to where a drink cart filled one corner of her office. True she might have sent back his bottle of wine, but seeing as it was her favorite vintage it was understandable that she already had an open bottle chilling in the cart's refrigerator. She poured herself a glass, then one for him as well, offering it to him as she returned to lean against the opposite side of her desk.

It was a moment before she spoke, raising the glass to her lips for a sip that left them stained slightly red until the remaining substance from them. "Family business?" a dark brow arched slightly. She could only imagine what that might entail. And then it dawned on her, why the man from a few days earlier had seemed so familiar. The scent that had clung to him, the one that had tugged at her memory filled her office now in full force. "You have other family on the surface," she mused, though she couldn't lie and say the realization wasn't difficult. The scent had been Mikkos' own, obviously diluted which only meant one thing truly, given the man's age. She shouldn't have been so affected by it, she wished like hell she wasn't.

Perhaps that was why her anger surged again, to hide the hurt that cut through her. Now was not the time for such an emotion, especially when he was so unaffected by what had and hadn't transpired between them in the past, in what they had lost. She was being ridiculous. They hadn't meant anything to one another for years now. "You obviously didn't care what I believed," she turned, setting her wineglass on the desk before the urge to throw it in his face took her over, "I was more inclined, back then, to believe you would have been man enough to tell me you weren't interested in marrying me, rather than simply running off."

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from_the_beast
2008-03-31 02:10 am UTC (link)

Mikkos was rather good at that. Always had been. Invading her space, the tight little cocoon she kept herself so tightly wrapped up in. Not that she ever complained about that with any real conviction. And here she was now, offering him a glass of that treasured vintage. Perhaps that anger was softening some. Though in all likelihood it meant nothing of the sort. Justine was, above all, a lady of perfect manners. She’d be devastated to think a guest was ill treated, even if that guest was anything but welcome.

He took the wine, raised a brow, and as she leaned against the desk, took a place in her seat. Now their places had switched.

He nodded, not knowing the family she spoke of was Nik. “Which is my reason for coming. A nephew, the son of my sister. He’s to be returned to Hell where he belongs.” Where they all belonged according to popular family belief.” He took a sip, savoring the taste as though he might never have the chance to taste it again. It was how he chose to experience most everything now. Like a man furloughed from prison attempting to fit as much living in as he could before he was to be sent back to live out the rest of his days behind bars. It was after all, Hell. And not called Hell for now reason. Home it might be to Mikkos, but he’d lived long enough on the surface to know exactly what his preference was.

He knew, even if everyone else thought they knew better. Everyone else that now obviously included Justine. Mikkos tipped back the dainty little crystal glass, draining the contents then rose back to his feet and over to the little bar. His hand hovered over the wine, then snatched up the bourbon instead. He opened the decanter, sniffed it. Possibly a couple hundred years old. Not strong enough, no. But far stronger than the wine. Shunning a glass he brought the whole bottle to his lips.

“The I guess you didn’t know me near as well as you thought.” He said, back turned to her. “Though I’m sure I was about as open a book as any, or more so.” He turned to her, eyes slightly dangerous looking, jaw clinched, though he held his anger in check. “Always did and said as I pleased, right?” How many fights had they had about that very aspect of his uncouth personality?

“So, before you go running off half-cocked with your theories about my manhood or what I was or was not interested in, I think you should check your memory a little better for what you do know.”

He took steps toward her, finished his cigarette and snuffed it out in a clean ashtray, perhaps there for one of her beloved siblings. “Where was my ship that night? My crew?” He arched a brow. “The party, the riches, the girls? Where was everything I wanted and cared about?” Not man enough? Not interested? If Mikkos hadn’t liked the arrangement, had any distaste for the way it was set up, he’d have spoken his opinion outright. Justine knew him well enough at least to know this.

He narrowed his eyes as he came even closer. “And I don’t believe you actually believed I had just run off. If you had, then you would have followed.” A woman scorned an all that. Tame as she was, Justine had a temper like a demoness. Mikkos knew that first hand.

He was close now, very close. So close if she chose to unleash some of that scorn now she need only reach out.

The perfume was different, but the scent beneath... as enticing as it always had been.

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savageallure
2008-03-31 02:32 am UTC (link)

His ability to bypass her walls, to blow through those roadblocks she set up for everyone else was what had persuaded her to open up to him in the first place. He'd been relentless, unwilling to stop and give her time to re-group, to re-gain her bearings. Eventually she'd thought it would just be easier to forsake the icy exterior when he was around - she'd never thought she might actually like to be without barriers. Justine was headstrong, stubborn in a way that few could outlast and fewer men had had interesting in working through. Mikkos had simply blasted all of that to the side, had seen through each and every mask she'd thrown up in his presence. It had been the one period in her life that she had tossed aside responsibility, had lived for herself.....and it had ended in heartbreak, had been a self-imposed 'I told you so' of the worst type. Never again had she allowed herself such an existence.

"You may seek your nephew here, but that isn't who I meant," she could do this, she could stand here and talk about his family as if it wasn't driving a stake through her. "I meant your son....of course, I'm assuming that's what he was given the hint of your scent that seemed to cling to his blood." She paused for a moment raising her wineglass to her lips for another sip, "I suppose congratulations are in order, though quite belated."

She watched as he moved for a stronger liquor, had figured that he would do so after he'd finished the what she'd offered. He'd never been as much of a fan of wine as she'd been, but he'd humored her often enough that she knew he would as least drain what she'd offered, if not a drop more.

Hips relaxed back against her desk, wineglass cradled in a slender hand as she watched him take the first few steps toward her, advancing again on her personal space. This time she wasn't about to back down, held her ground even as he closed more and more of the distance that stood between them. "I don't even begin to try and understand what your motives might have been for leaving, nor would I have followed you, regardless of what you might think." No, if he'd truly wanted to be free of her, she would have given him that no matter how it slayed her. "You often told me your family would never see you marry a 'lesser creature,' I believe that was the wording, wasn't it? Perhaps you simply came to your senses that night, I won't presume to know.

"I don't suppose it matters much now either way. It was lifetimes ago really and I assume it's safe to say that we've both moved on. Perhaps it was for the best, after all, given your family's take on the whole thing." She had worked to convince herself of that over the years, to make herself believe that it hadn't been the love affair of her life, that someday something would bypass the great romance that her memory had hopefully only illuminated. And really they'd spent such a small amount of time together in the grand scheme of things, surely he didn't look back at their relationship in the same way that she did. If he wanted to confess to her the truth of what would happen, she would let him, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of pressing for it.

"You seemed to find out where I was quite easily. Have you been keeping tabs on us, then?" she questioned after a moment.

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from_the_beast
2008-04-02 02:36 am UTC (link)

Justine was so good at that, hiding her feeling from the world and even from herself. But though she could fool everyone of these most of the time, Mikkos doubted she fooled her family, who were closer than any he’d ever seen, and he knew she never fooled him. Why he could see through where most couldn’t he didn’t know. Maybe their connection was beyond all that. He always had felt a curious spark, something he didn’t want to question but knew was beyond the normal realm for demons.

At news of Nik having been here Mikkos’ jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed slightly. Just for a moment and the anger passed. Of course Nik would be paying her a visit, how could Mikkos not have seen that coming? Nikolaos did exactly as Mikkos should have expected, the devoted man that he was.

Though he would have rather he hadn’t. No, all this was something he’d rather be discussing on his own terms. Both this discussion and the one to come with his son. Now he was in a rather awkward position. Not a place Mikkos ever appreciated being.

“Nikolaos.” And by the light in his eyes as he said his son’s name it was obvious the pride he had in his son. He nodded. “My boy. Though hardly a boy anymore. I don’t reckon I should be surprised he thought to pay you a visit. Smart man.”

She was wrong in that though, thinking he didn’t like the wine. He was indeed a fan, appreciating it’s delicate flavor much the same was he appreciated the fairer sex. But being the man he was, his preference was for something with a bit more kick, a bit more fire to run through his veins. Wine, for all it’s grace, did not offer that. Not the same as bourbon or scotch.

At this moment especially, was he in need of something stronger.

He had another drink as she questioned and lit another cigarette. That he smoked down and in a moment the bottle was half empty as well. “As much as I could.” He admitted. “Though news of the surface is painfully slow down in Hell, especially when there are people who don’t want you to have it. I didn’t even know you were in Seattle until today. I also just learned about Julien. I’m sorry. I know you were close.”

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savageallure
2008-04-02 03:00 am UTC (link)

If asked, Justine couldn't have pinpointed what allowed him to see so easily through her facade either. For nearly everyone else it was a flawless barrier between she and them, but with Mikkos it had never been so much as a bump in the road, a thin veil to be pushed aside - something her former fiance had done with ease. At first it had unnerved her, but eventually she'd come to rather like living without her usual cover. It was a trait that was reflected in her ability to call him on what others might have let him get away with. She hadn't ever been afraid to tell him exactly what she thought of him or of his behavior - where he intimidated most, she had never swayed from him in fear.

At first she'd simply assumed he'd sent Nikolaos, but his reaction to news of his son's visit to Chroma easily canceled out that theory. "I thought perhaps you'd sent him," she admitted, "but if you've only just learned of my presence here, I can see that wasn't the case." She took another sip from the wineglass she still held, then set it aside to fold slender arms across her chest when Julien's name came up. It was still a tender subject, an open wound that didn't take kindly to being re-visited. "Thank you," she offered a polite smile, "the two of you were rather close once as well." She wasn't sure what news of her brother's death had meant to him now, but at one time she knew it would have been incredibly difficult.

There was no point in attempting to keep up a smooth facade he knew was fake, it was a waste of her effort. "I don't know how long business will keep you in Seattle, but perhaps this should be our only meeting. To stand here and talk with you as if our past isn't what it is....I think we both know even I don't have the composure for that task." Even in her best attempts to hide whatever bothered her, when it came to Mikkos it was always her eyes that gave her away. Hadn't that been part of the reason he'd loved them so much? They always showed him her secrets and now they avoided his as much as possible, too filled with pain to keep that contact for long.

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from_the_beast
2008-04-07 07:04 am UTC (link)

Mikkos jaw set, not yet ready to discuss the son he had such pride in though, though eager all at once. The hesitation was completely due to her, not the son, and seeing that even now she was having to deal with so much. That he had a family of his own was not exactly something she seemed excited to hear about. No, he didn’t suppose she should be really.

His expression hardened slightly even though it was he that had brought up Julien’d death. It was all so new to him, and so learning of it, it was almost as though it had just happened. For Mikkos, it was like losing a second brother. “Yes. We were. Like brothers almost.” Though not exactly. Close as they were, Julien had his own family, and one thing Mikkos knew from that was that no one came between a Baptiste and their siblings, not unless they were eager to find a quick death. “Brothers at arms. Comrades. The bond is quite different, I think.” Nad yet, a bond nonetheless. And not one others could often understand or appreciate.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Though he wouldn’t say the idea of not seeing her again made him happy. In fact, it bothered him how much seeing her moved him. It wasn’t what he’d been looking for, though what exactly he’d hoped to find, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d wanted to satisfy himself that they’d both moved on. To just… see her like visiting any other fond remembrance. Just like Justine though, she wasn’t at all content in that scenario

“Guess that means you won’t be throwing me a welcome home party. Gonna roll up the red carpet, cork up the wine, and all that?” He could be so cold, yes. But so could she, when moved to.

Funny though, he hadn't yet moved any further away. Nor did he want to. He liked standing so close to her. Liked the way she smelled, how soft her lips looked...

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savageallure
2008-04-07 03:21 pm UTC (link)

Not discussing Nikolaos was probably best - though a part of her was happy to see that he'd started a family, gained something she never would have been able to give him anyway, it was understandably difficult news to take, as well. Perhaps another time, if she went against her own words and agreed to meet with him again - after she'd had time to digest everything that had come to light in their reunion - maybe then she'd be able to sit and listen to him discuss his son. But not now, she hoped he could understand that much. She didn't mean to appear rude - Justine was always perfect in her manners - but even she had a limit, a line that she couldn't bring herself to cross.

She could see that news of Julien's death hadn't been easy for him to hear and in that moment it was refreshing to see that perhaps he wasn't as cold as he had played at in those first minutes of their meeting. He was still affected by remnants of the past, she could see it in small ways that anyone else likely would have missed. For the relatively short time the pair had truly spent together, it seemed their ability to read one another had not faded over time. "He thought quite a lot of you, as I recall. More, I think, after we got engaged, though he played at disliking you greatly for that," she managed a slight, genuine smile at the memory of her brother.

Whatever cracks had begun to open in those moments before his coldness returned, sealed up as quickly as they'd managed to appear. Perhaps this wasn't difficult for him to be faced with her again after so long, but she wouldn't have it made a mockery of. With a sigh born of expectation, she stepped away to put the desk between them, the physical distance greater than the emotional connection she could still feel just vaguely tied between the two. It was buried, both by choice and by events out of their control, and most definitely damaged, but it was still there, weakly. "At least we can agree on that, then," she glanced up at him, taking a seat in her chair behind her desk once more - his coldness answered by her own.

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from_the_beast
2008-04-13 04:07 am UTC (link)

“I imagine the play wasn’t so difficult after…” he growled but let his words fade. After. After he was gone suddenly, without warning, without notice of where he’d gone. If Julien were here now he’d seek to run him through with a blade. Cold as he played, cool as he seemed, Mikkos was not fool enough not to know how very in the wrong he was.

Nor did he really believe himself welcome.

Julien might have played at being angry, but for some of the others, it was hardly play. He wondered how many were secretly happy when he disappeared. Surely at least one.

“I’m sure there’s a lot more we could agree on, given the chance” Taking the hint, he set the bottle on the desk. “Maybe next time we’ll have the opportunity to find out.” He wasn’t sure if that meant he intended on coming back. After all that it might be foolish. But Mikkos had never been one to easily be deterred. After having seen her now, been so near her, he decided he’d like to see her more. Yes, all this visit had done was to whet his appetite, and remind him more fully of what he’d missed in Hell, and would miss again when he had to return.

“Jusqu' à la prochaine fois, mon chéri.” He spoke as he turned to leave. Until next time, my darling.

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