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Tweak says, "Fire Bad! Tree Pretty!"

I've known better days... (better_days) wrote in haunted_roads,
@ 2008-06-13 14:43:00

Entry tags:

bastian, sophie

Week Nine: Sunday
When: Night
Where: Towers
Who: Bastian and Sophie

Bastian was not looking forward to this. He didn’t sleep all day or the night before, he sat up knowing that all too soon he’d have to sit down with Sophie and tell her what had happened. What had really happened. He knew he should have done this weeks ago, he should have just bitten the bullet and blurted it out to all of them. But he hadn’t…and the longer time went on the more he began to wonder if just…not telling her was best. He knew it wasn’t though, as living in a lie never made anything better in the end. Living in a lie was never how he wanted things to be between him and his family. But this wasn’t exactly the easiest conversation to have. He wasn’t even sure how to start it up. He’d managed to get through it with Maggie and his father though. One more time…for some reason he didn’t think it was going to be third times the charm for him.

Typically he’d be at the bar by now. He’d be behind the counter handing beers over to eager patrons and keeping his mind busy with endless tasks that never really distracted him as much as he hoped they would. By now he’d be listening to the mumbles of the tv spouting of scores for sports or the weather for next week. By now he’d already be ready for the night to be over with. But instead he was sitting in the living room with a drink in hand and the bottle too far away in the kitchen.

He’d refilled the glass at least five times by now.

A cigarette was between his fingers, the smoke floating up and out the open window just behind him. He always tried to avoid smoking in the house, habit that his ma got him started on long ago. No one wanted to smell that when they first walked into a place. If there was ever any night to let that rule slide a bit though, it was tonight. A drag was taken…soon after another was…. The cigarette burning down, counting the minutes by exhales and inhales. By the clinking of melting ice in his glass, by the slight tick tick tick of the clock on the wall that Bastian didn’t remember.

This entire place felt like that sometimes, like it was nothing but rooms he didn’t remember. So much was made to mimic the house but it was always just a bit off. Just…not the same and he knew it never would be. It made him feel like a stranger…or maybe it was just the place that he was blaming that feeling on. Something to bitterly pick apart rather then that bigger picture of what really made him feel like that. Those obvious reasons that he couldn’t face…those reasons that made him not even want to look in the damned mirror. Running away from them didn’t do anything. Denying them didn’t somehow change it. Bastian was well aware of this…too aware…but sometimes it felt like the only choice out there. Or the easiest at the least.

Easy wasn’t going to keep the rug from being pulled out from under him again. That fact was always apparent in his thoughts. Some flashing fucking sign that followed him constantly. He’d been trying to find those to speak with, others to create some sort of tie to in order to keep his family safe. But what it always boiled down to was that he didn’t know a damned one of them. Anyone could talk kind words and pretend to be a caring bastard and then, at the right moment, would fucking snap their jaws shut around you. The last thing Bastian wanted was to somehow get them into all of this even deeper then they already were.

Faintly Bastian sighed, the sound seeming to echo in the empty place. No one else was home, out for the night leaving Bastian to sit and wait. He’d told Sophie he wanted to talk with her tonight however, he hoped that was enough to get her to come home rather then stay out through the night too. So far he wasn’t certain, night had been around for at least an hour or two now.

The silence was starting to eat at him….gnawing at that calm he was trying to keep. Suddenly in an almost jerky motion he was up to his feet, finding some music to turn on to help to curb that vacant feeling the place seemed to hold tonight.

It didn't help.

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felonious_punk
2008-06-16 10:27 pm UTC (link)

Sophie had gone out, and she hadn’t rushed home, even though she knew he wanted to talk to her. She was sure she knew what it was about. Her attitude, her truancy, yadda yadda yadda… Sophie wasn’t in any hurry to hear it.

But she hadn’t been out partying. After all, she wasn’t looking to avoid him all night, just a few hours. Instead, she’d gone to see her grandfather at the bar. He of course, wanted to know why she was there and not at home with her father where she belonged. Of course, she grumbled to him and tried to lay it on him about how they never got to see each other any more and didn’t he miss her? Well, the old man didn’t buy it. He usually didn’t. Sophie could work a lot of people, but her grandfather had never been one of them.

And that was fine by her really.

Eventually, after not very long, he convinced her that she really wanted to be home with her father. Didn’t take too much convincing because, of course it was true.

A smile graced her lips when she opened the door and heard the jams and smelled smoke. Cool. She lit one of her own… since they were smoking inside now. Was going to make for a much better winter, that was for fucking sure. She even stopped off in the kitchen and poured herself a bourbon and coke. Hey, he was the one that left the bottle out in the open like an invitation. Not like he had to question what she was drinking anyway, and Sophie wasn’t exactly advertising. Anyway, as long as he was drinking he wasn’t exactly going to smell it on her.

“Hey,” she said, coming into the room finally. She kissed him on the cheek and took a seat on the floor.

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better_days
2008-06-16 10:46 pm UTC (link)

He heard the steps. He smelled the smoke. He knew there was liquor in her glass. Maybe he should have said something, been that father figure and tell her to not pull that shit. But the fact of the matter was that tonight he figured she'd end up needing all of it as much as he did. Too bad it didn't really do him any good. Too bad it didn't take the edge off or calm down those nerves. All it was was a familiar taste upon the tongue that used to mean something and now barely mattered.

But she'd be wrong to think that the habits of tonight were going to continue on. Bastian was understanding, and wasn't going to ride any kid’s ass about doing something a bit before they were supposed to. But respect was respect, and that was one thing she needed for her parents. No matter what he'd done or what he said in life Bastian had never disrespected his father. Wasn't ever going to either. He knew better.

Tonight wasn't a night for chastising or anything of that nature. Even if there were things or talks to have. Tonight was going to be a bit filled up with a talk he didn't want to have. A talk that had been so damned difficult to have with his father and with Maggie yet he knew it was going to be ten times worse with Sophie. He was ready for the scoffs. For that look that she was so damned good at giving. He told himself he was ready at least...if he actually was, was another matter all together.

Bastian didn't much move as he waited for her to show. Never once he was irritated as the time ticked by. She’d show when she was ready and likely it would be long before Bastian was actually ready. But he knew he'd never be for this. He hadn't been with the others. He wasn't now. He sat there, eyes staring into his glass and yet barely seeing the contents. He was thinking about everything that had happened. All the time he'd missed. He thought about all the reasons he had to be proud of Sophie. All the changes. All the differences around him. More then anything he thought about how he was going to manage to make this work.

How he was going to ensure that the past didn't just repeat itself.

All this time thinking on it. All this time picking that apart…and he still had no true answer. Nothing that he could promise Maggie to make her believe all would be alright. Nothing to promise either of them.

Movement behind the door drew his thoughts to the task at hand. He offered a smile to her and gave a kiss back to her cheek before she sat down. "Hey..." he returned, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig from his drink to nearly kill it. "Good weekend?" he hadn't seen her much, distracting himself with hours of work and hidden away during the day. The words were nothing more then small talk and he wouldn’t be surprised if she called him on it. He just...wasn't eager to dive right on in.

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felonious_punk
2008-06-20 07:27 pm UTC (link)

His smile, Sophie noticed, was at once sincere but also worn. Like, he seemed to smile just for her, but the smile looked all wrong on his worn features. Worn, but somehow younger than they should have been. Maybe it was genes. Cool. Meant Sophie was going to be an even hotter thirty something than her mom.

He was cold too. Always cold. Sophie figured it was the open window. She understood why he had it open, but didn’t want him getting sick.

She shrugged to his question, plopping herself down and taking a drink of her own. “It was alright. Had a show last night.” And of course, Saturday was a very big deal. The clubs booked the best acts on weekends since that when competition was the heaviest. “New manager’s kick ass about getting us the best gigs.” Not much money to speak of, but hell, they hadn’t expected that at this stage. In fact, they still expected to be playing frat parties and Tuesday nights at grunge bars. Was turning out quite a lot different than they’d expected, and even better than they’d hoped.

“Are you cold?” She asked. “Want me to grab you a blanket? I don’t mind.” She always did little things like that for her grandfather, nurturing him in the way that her mother nurtured her, and everyone else in the neighborhood. Maybe she wasn’t too different from her maternal unit. Difference was Sophie was far more discerning on whom she gave such treatment to.

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better_days
2008-06-22 01:10 pm UTC (link)

Smiles for Bastian didn't seem to exist anymore without his family. Though offered at times to work the smile was nothing more then a mask. A fake gesture that eased the minds of people coming in. A tool to use and little more. Like a sign on the window or music playing in the background. Just something for the customers. But with his family...he wanted to smile for them. He wanted to think that maybe with them he could truly smile again. But he knew no matter how he seemed to smile for them lately that it wasn't like it had once been.

That once joyful grin that the family knew had been lost somewhere..all he had for them now was an attempt at it. One that would get slightly easier when he no longer had to lie to them but that...that wasn’t the only trouble that plagued them. It wasn't a cure all to all of this

It wasn't as simple as he was just turned and that was that. Not that that was simple at all. But being that the past was still the present....a past he didn't know how to stop...it was difficult to try to convince any of them that anything at all would be okay.

"Yeah? Should have told me...would like to see you guys play again." or more like really see them play as last time he'd hardly been paying attention to the music around him. But there was an obvious pride to his words when he spoke, something that made a little light show back to his eyes. He always knew that Sophie had musical talent, even when she was young. But seeing her further explore that and do so well in it impressed him and of course made the musician in him proud. "Finding a good manager is one of the biggest battles when it comes to a band." he remembered that from long ago. Of course if he knew who the manager was doubtful he'd be so happy they found her.

"No, I'm not really. Thank you though." and he knew to Sophie that would make no sense, of course he had to be cold with how chilled his flesh was. But Bastian could scarcely feel that cold now. Not unless he had the contrast of that far warmer skin near to his own. Then he just had the harsh reminder of how dead he really was. How...changed.

Bastian sighed, downing the contents of his glass in one quick swallow now. There was a part of him that wanted to keep to those lighter words. TO just avoid for as long as he could. But when it came down to it he knew that it would be better to just..get it out there. Force the words out through that throat that wanted to choke on them, and start this difficult conversation up.

"But...I want to explain to you why I'm so cold. There’s a reason for...all those oddities that I know that you have noticed. You’re too bright to have not." but like the others she sort of just...gave herself reasonable explanations to be able to cope with the strangeness off all of it. Explanations that were likely easier to accept then the reality.

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felonious_punk
2008-06-22 03:51 pm UTC (link)

Sophie understood about the smiles. Her own weren’t so sad anymore, not like they used to be, but they were bitter, sometimes twisted. They weren’t the truly joyful smiles she used to hold as a child, those days were gone. Mostly. Some could bring out those smiles. Her grandfather mostly. Her mother sometimes. And Bastian, since he’d come back. Things felt different for her now. The weight on her shoulders felt less heavy, even if she was as of yet unwilling to let it feel as light as she really wanted. She was happy, wanted to be completely so, to let go. She just, well it had been so long holding on to hardness, she didn’t know how to let it go.

The tone in his voice when he responded to her comment on the band caused Sophie to look up at him. She smiled, yes, that sweet tender smile that seemed like unlocking something long buried… if only for a moment. “We’re playing Thursday night.” Her birthday. But, much as she wanted to say, “My birthday”, she didn’t. He knew when her birthday was, after all. He’d been there for the first one.

If he remembered.

But that was irrelevant. It pleased her, immensely, maybe a more happy feeling then she’d known in a long time, to hear that pride in his voice, to see the way even his gloomy eyes seemed to light up. His eyes were so telling. Now grown she understood so much about how eyes could hold such truth, and tell such lies. But even as a child she’d been mesmerized by her father’s eyes. She remembered how they’d sparkle when she looked at him, and the way he seemed to gather all the light of the universe into those eyes when she laughed. Sometimes, in all those years he was gone, she’d remember and think perhaps her memory was a fabrication, or more, an exaggeration of the truth. Looking in those profound orbs now, she knew it was just as she remembered.

“Yeah,” she nodded, about the manager. She might have said more, but yeah, much as she pushed the line with her parents, Sophie wasn’t an idiot. Priscilla was most definitely not the kind of person a parent would want around their little teenaged daughter. Though Sophie had little doubt the woman could shmooze them quite nicely when/if they met at a show or something.

She scratched her head, made slightly uncomfortable by his denial of being cold. Of course his words after made her even more uncomfortable and Sophie turned her attention to the cigarette in her hand… took a nice long drag, then took a big drink from her glass. And another.

Whatever it was, he didn’t seem in any hurry to say and Sophie looked at him finally, up from beneath her brows… expectantly. Wordlessly.

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better_days
2008-06-23 12:36 pm UTC (link)

There was a part of Bastian that had expected those same smiles when he returned. That part of him that refused to acknowledge the years that had gone by and wanted nothing more then to see that little girl that he’d lost long ago. But while some piece of him hoped and longed for that…he wasn’t surprised to see that she had changed. That they all had. Hurt….yes that he couldn’t help. But not surprised. How could they be the same with all that had happened? How could they not be affected so harshly, just as he had been. It made him feel better when he earned a smile from her though. When he saw a bit of light enter back into her eyes. When she had that young sort of grin upon her features that should more often be there.

It was the same with Maggie…when that weight was gone off her shoulders for just a moment and her eyes glowed with her smile. No matter how bad the times were he could always remember those happier times. Those better days. He knew if he lost sight of that, that he was lost. It would be the breaking point she’d been looking for and as tempting as it was to just fall apart…he couldn’t.

Those smiles were fewer now between the family…with the truth out there. He knew they didn’t try to look at him in a different light but how could they not? He was different. He was changed…in a way that went deeper then just the mind and years passed. He didn’t want Sophie to look at him that way too. But not telling her wasn’t fair. None of this really was.

“A gig on your birthday…spent a few of my own that same way.” Long ago when he actually played, he hadn’t in years now and wasn’t even sure if he’d remember how to at this point. But yes he remembered what the day was. How could he not? Time had taken much from him but it hadn’t taken all his memories. “I’ll be there.” He wasn’t going to do some parental act of saying she needed to spend the day home or anything like that. But the time before, the time after, that he would seek to grab some time of.

That is if she even wanted him around her at that point. Even if she didn’t, he’d be there.

Which left him only with the words to speak that he didn’t want to. The conversation had reached that point that he really couldn’t turn back from. That pivotal point where it was either go forward or run back. Running back was easier but it wouldn’t get him anywhere. She needed to know. Not just because she was his daughter but because he wanted her aware of what was out there. He wanted her to know so she could be safer..or try to be.

A hand ran roughly back through his hair and barely he resisted the urge to get up and pace, to not look at her. “There are things in this world that people consider myths. Oddities that most wouldn’t ever believe in.” Bastian started, sort of rushing through the words “Problem is that a lot of them are real. I didn’t believe in any of it…not until that night I was taken.” Eight years? Nine? He didn’t even know at times. “The people that took me that night weren’t…normal” what a cop out. He sighed again, making himself look at her “They weren’t human.” Yeah, she probably was probably about ready to go look up the number to the mental hospital.

“And now I’m not.” His hand turned with the words, exposing the cross shaped burn that had distinct markings that matched the cross Maggie always wore. “I know there is liquor in your drink. I know that you were with grandpa before coming here and that Old Joe gave you a pat on the back. I know…not because either of them told me.” But because he could smell that scent on her, that vague sense of others.

“And I know you probably think I’m crazy…wish I was. That would be easier to deal with.”

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felonious_punk
2008-06-24 12:13 am UTC (link)

Truthfully, Sophie wasn’t completely surprised when it became evident Bas had something pressing to tell her. Maggie hadn’t done a very good job of hiding that something was up. Something aside from all the weirdness of having him suddenly show up after having just up and disappeared off the face of the earth all those years ago. Oh Sophie knew that in the grand scheme of things nine years wasn’t much. A decade. But it was half of her life. So relatively speaking, for her, it had been a really long time.

Her smile broadened, childlike almost, when he mentioned her birthday. How much it pleased her to hear him say that, he couldn’t possibly know. But hopefully the smile gave some indication. And of course, the gig on her birthday was ideal. Bastian would understand that. “Where did you play?” She asked, wondering if it was some of the same venues she and her band had jammed in. That would be pretty cool.

“Good. Be sure to bring earplugs.” She grinned and winked. “We get pretty loud.”

And then, all too soon, the mood had darkened, the conversation taking a tone not even Sophie wanted. When he began her brows knitted as she pulled her eyes from his and into her glass. She lifted it to take a drink, but when she did, the conversation got really weird, with him saying he wasn’t normal, and talking about the shit in her drink. Her eyes narrowed more, she opened her mouth to give a sardonic, rude reply, but then he mentioned Old Joe and her eyes went wide

She didn’t know what this was about, but she knew she didn’t like it. “How do you know?” She whispered, certain she didn’t really want to hear the answer. Just then she winced, “Shit,” the cigarette had burned down and burned her fingers. She snubbed it out in the tray but quickly lit another. She did take a drink then, even knowing he knew what was in it. Maybe it was in defiance more than any real need. Or maybe it was need.

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better_days
2008-06-24 12:52 am UTC (link)

Maggie was never very good at hiding when something was bothering her. The old man was, John wouldn't utter a word or even give a hint to anything being amiss if Bastian didn't want him to. But Maggie...she had a hard time keeping things like that so buried. Bastian knew that it would be noticed. Which was why he knew he couldn’t delay in speaking all of this longer then he already had. It needed to be...spit out. Put out there so the truth was known and in it they could somehow try to move forward. It wasn't an easy reality to come to accept. His dad had tried to take it lightly, joking that he always knew there were some freaks out there. But underneath that bravado Bastian knew it had given the old man a scare.

He could smell it...hear it in the way his heart sped up.

Maggie hadn't taken it so lightly...but the fear was all the same.

Bastian wished that he could keep to that lighter conversation. That he could just forgo all of this and spend the night talking to her about all the old haunts he and his band had. He much rather remember those times when he held no fears and felt consumed by that need to just play. They were such lighter stories...easier times...but he didn't get into such tales. Only an utterance of "I'll have to show you some time" was offered. And he would...after all of this.

After he managed to force himself through this yet again. Each time he had to try to figure out where to start. Just going straight into hey I'm a vampire didn't seem the really workable approach. Just made a person scoff and think you must be kidding. Especially someone like Sophie. Which was why he started first with those knowns that he shouldn't really know. Like the drink that there was no way he could have seen her pour. Not unless he'd been in the room with her. And Joe...as why would the old man really mention that detail if Bastian had spoken with him.

It was enough to bite back that retort that he knew to be prepared for. Though he doubted it would completely dismiss all those snapped words he knew her capable of. "I know these things because she turned me into what she is." what she was. He didn't even want to speak it. But even as he worked up the words his fingers trailed over the scar, his empty glass discarded now to the side. He had the cross to prove the reality to with Maggie. Sunlight to prove it to his father.

He looked at her and in that moment there was nothing light to his eyes. Nothing happy or warm. He nearly shut himself down, prepared for that disbelief. "The sunlight burns me. Holy objects scar. I'll never really be warm again. All these things are true because I was forced into becoming a….” hesitation lingered, biting at him as he forced the sentence onward “…vampire." so foolish the word sounded, that one word that no one should so readily believe. A word believed to be nothing but a myth. Nothing but some story that made a great fucking movie. But all those myths came from somewhere…Bastian just knew first hand now how true that was.

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felonious_punk
2008-06-30 06:28 pm UTC (link)

John always was good like that. And though Sophie could ask him anything about anything, and utterly trust his answer, she knew better than to ever ask him about other people. His word was his bond. When you told him a thing you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere else. Ever. Sophie had told him more than a thing or two in her life that she knew would go no further, but that he told her she would have to tell her mother. Probably not the best position for him always to be in, being given the weight on everyone else’s shoulders. But he was her grandpa, and for most of her life, her father figure.

“Oh.. haha you had me going there for a minute.” And he had, the whole chill up her spine and all. But she shook it off, reminded of the night not too recently, with Prissy and the guys… a full moon in which they were purposely spooking each other. He expected her to suddenly jump, or grab her and start tickling or something. To grin broadly, or snicker and say “Gotcha”.

Even the look in his eyes gave her pause, made her want to shudder, but come on, she wasn’t accepting this so easily. She reached for his wrist, for the scar he was toying with. “Shit. That’s some serious modification, but I don’t think Mags would approve of you doing that with her crucifix.” No, she’d give him a look, shake her head, not at all pleased by the perceived blasphemy. “Pretty impressive though, must’ve hurt like shit.” And yeah, she was way surprised to think her dad would be into that kind of art. Branding was pretty heavy duty. And this one was just plain weird. “Do I need to start sleeping with a garlic necklace? Ooooo.” Disrespectful maybe, but hey, she had every right not to believe such shit.

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better_days
2008-06-30 07:52 pm UTC (link)

The old man had always been reliable. Even when Bastian was young he kept his mouth closed when asked. More then a few of Bastian's darker moments had been kept from his mother. It wasn't like Bastian enjoyed secretes but sometimes it was better to just...leave some stuff be. Keep the past the past and just learn from them and go forward without having the world judge for it. Bastian knew that he could go to his old man first. That despite how hard it was to believe, he'd believe him. More then that Bastian knew that his father would accept him....

There was a part of him that wasn't so sure that Maggie or Sophie would.

The reaction that Sophie now gave...it was pretty much exactly what he thought he'd get. That disbelief and mocking. The joke and want to just brush it aside and forget about it. Bastian wished it was a joke. That he could smile wide and laugh about how he very nearly had her. But never once did his eyes hold that sort of light. And no smile creased his features. As blank as he sought to make himself be sadness likely managed to curl itself inside of him. How could it not? But he couldn’t give it the purchase that it wanted to inside of his mind. Not right now.

He didn't say anything to her retorts, no matter how snide or sarcastic they became. He let her ramble on, let her think whatever it was she needed to think in that second to try to sway that chill. It would be easy to just leave it there. To say yeah your right, and walk away. let her think that he was toying with her. Let her think that he was just being weird.

It was tempting...

Still his hand reached forward, a movement a little too quick and a little too sudden. He clasped her hand around his wrist, pressing the tips of her fingers against where that strong thudding pulse should be. But there wasn't one. Not in the way that hers was. The beat was nothing more then a flutter, a ghost of some human action that his body mimicked now but never really could do again.

“I wish I was joking.” Bastian spoke finally, his words soft and yet in a way somehow hollow. He’d felt this ache and this anger for so long that it had begun to just cut away the emotions. His anger didn’t change it. His pain didn’t. His tears never would. This was what he was. Like it, hate it, till he died again he’d be this thing he loathed.

“I wish I was Sophie…” how he wished “But I’m not…”

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felonious_punk
2008-06-30 10:27 pm UTC (link)

Humor, though often caustic, biting, and sarcastic, was Sophie’s defense. A natural defense for one so small and with so quick a mind. Humor then, was what she naturally turned to now as she struggled to toss away the truth presented her. It was a truth she couldn’t accept, not by word alone. Not even her father’s word. No, it defied reality, rationality. It had to be a joke.

It certainly couldn’t have been the truth.

But he couldn’t just let it go with that, could he? No, he insisted on carrying it further, past the point where she might possibly have been able to consider it an amusing joke. Long past any chance of finding any real humor in it. Sophie didn’t believe in the supernatural. She barely even believed in God.

She glared at him suddenly as her lower lip quivered and she struggled against that far too strong grip. She backed away then, perhaps a little too quickly. Though there was more anger in the movement then there was fear. She feared… something, but it wasn’t him she feared. It was more, this new truth he presented her with, forced her to confront, to see witch eyes suddenly open to something they’d never seen. It was like being thrust face first into ice water and being held under. She flailed in that icy existence, trying to find footing in a world that suddenly made no sense. She was upside down, skidding headlong through a twisting corridor where she could feel the bottom dropping slowly out from under her.

Seriously, it was like a really bad trip. This was why Sophie didn’t like messing with mind altering shit, she did not like to not be in control.

“What…”

She gasped, staring at his wrist and then his face, in intense shock and disbelief.

“the fuck?”

She shook her head and suddenly the room was spinning more violently as Sophie struggled for breath that wouldn’t come. She was hyperventilating, having taken far too many breaths trying to gain some sense of control.

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better_days
2008-06-30 11:20 pm UTC (link)

Who truly wanted this truth as their reality? It was no calm or happy thing to hold to. Nothing that made a person smile and be joyful that they'd been enlightened to the truth. No the reality was dark and turned ones thoughts and perceptions upside down. Bastian knew, he knew all too well. Long ago he'd sought to bitterly deny it the same as she. But there was no denying it when each brush with the sun left you scarred and screaming. There was no denying it when that hunger began to gnaw at his gut till he felt as though he'd go insane.

It wasn't a reality he wanted to give to Sophie. It was one that as a father, he wanted nothing more then to shield her from. But he knew that in doing that...he'd only put her at more risk. She needed to know what was out there. More then that she needed to understand that those that could come after him weren't human. She needed to see why he didn't just run to the cops. Why none of this was handled in the way it seemed like it should be.

Things weren't normal. These weren't circumstances humans would understand.

He wouldn't still her from pulling away, from openly taking steps back away from him as though he'd struck her. In a way he had, a way that was far more life altering then just a hit. Bruises would fade from that, eventually you could forget. But this....this you couldn't, ever, forget. No matter how you might want to. This too Bastian knew all too well.

He remained seated, his entire body all too still as he waited for either slow acceptance or complete and utter denial and anger. Both would be logical. Both would be understood. That’s what he told himself at least. That he couldn't be angry for such...disbelief. But he was angry....so completely angry....just not at her.

But it wasn’t a flash of anger that he received but that shock that started to shut the body down. Then he was moving, swift motions bringing him to his feet where an arm curled around her and he urged her to seat. "Deep breaths Sophie." there was that urge to say to calm down but it seemed...foolish to utter them. She had no reason to be calm. “Steady deep breaths.” The tone of his voice was calmer then he felt. Soothing in a way only a fathers voice can be. It was still him….still him in a way.

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felonious_punk
2008-07-01 12:37 am UTC (link)

Sophie was scared. So scared. Not of her father, surprisingly, though she imagined him with gnarly fangs and an insatiable taste for blood. No, her fear was of a world gone suddenly out of wack. This was like a realization of a long held fear the girl had held in check for many many years. Their lives had spun off course the night Bastian disappeared. Spun off course and wildly out of control, though Maggie and John had managed, through it all, to hold it together, for themselves, for each other, and most of all, for Sophie. They’d held it together, and Sophie had as well, but lying beneath it all was the knowledge that no matter what, no matter how normal they attempted to keep their lives, nothing ever would be the same again.

Normal was just a fictional figment of their past lives, the lives they lived before Bastian was taken away from them.

But he came back, and yeah, there were some weird things, like… how cold he was, like, how he never seemed to sleep at night, and how he was always behind curtains or blinds in the day. All of that was weird, but Sophie could convince herself it was normal still, that things would be okay. Even when she imagined some freak cult was after him, even then it was still something she could accept as being normal. Ish. That at least, would be something of this world. A real danger that you could fight with real, and normal means.

But this? This was… unreal. It flew in the face of all logic. And that was what troubled the gifted young girl. It just... didn't make sense. There was no way his heart could be doing that. No way he could really be alive if he were actually dead. It made no sense at all, and by that alone was a slap in the face to all the logic Sophie had ever accepted. This, this one thing, made her question all reality as she knew it.

Life, her life, their life, and for sure his life… would never be the same.

She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in as tears bubbled finally to the surface of her eyes, tears she’d not shed in almost as many years as he’d been gone. She choked slightly, the sobs butting up against the attempted breaths and now hiccups that came as a result, but her breathing calmed, just as he said, just as she pressed against him, letting herself go, softening in his embrace. She allowed herself the fears, the tears, and the vulnerabilities she’d kept locked away for so many years.

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better_days
2008-07-01 01:21 am UTC (link)

It wasn’t normal. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t possibly be real. Bastian hated that he was the proof that it did. The physical manifestation of how wrong the world really could be. How all those fears from those young years were warranted…no matter how you were told monsters didn’t exist. They did, and always had. Bastian couldn’t escape that reality now. He had to face it at every second; he had to stare it in the eyes whenever he looked in the mirror. There was no escaping the truth for him. No means to force it all somehow make sense. It still didn’t make sense to him. The world wasn’t what they’d all thought it was…

Bastian had come to realize that the world was a hell of a lot darker then he had ever imagined it to be. And there was a part of him that felt such cold dread in bringing Sophie into that same world. He looked at her and felt such fucking guilt for coming back. For bringing this around them. It was difficult to say he should have stayed away, that they would somehow be better off. But still he could find no joy in exposing them to this world. For…having this threat hanging in the shadows around them each and every day.

This isn’t what he wanted for them…this wasn’t the future he’d envisioned.

But it was the only one he had now…

It was the only one they had now.

But it broke his heart to see that fear start to take her eyes. To watch her as her breaths came in rapid gasps and her legs looked as though they’d simply collapse. That buried anger wanted to wash out against him. Burn through his veins for all that had been done. Anger for that bitch that made their lives become this. But that anger was secondary to that sadness. The concern held for his little girl that had to grow up too damned fast.

Bastian pulled her close, moving them both to take seat again. Those arms stayed protective around her, urging her in that soft tone to breathe, to take slow easy breaths. Gently his hand soothed against her back, it had been years since such fatherly gestures were needed…but how easily they came back to him. It made him long for all that time he’d missed.

It made him want to make it up to her somehow…

He cradled her as she cried; holding her like a father would a young child. It didn’t matter to him that she was older now. It didn’t matter how strong she acted like she was. In this moment she needed his comfort as much as he needed to comfort her. To be able to be there to do so like he never was able to before.

A single tear fell from Bastian’s own eyes as he tightly held her. A tear for his little girl. A tear for what had been taken from them. He could never allow more then that, it was too much to even let himself feel the full weight of those emotions. He focused on the girl in his arms. A kiss pressed to the top of her head as he whispered soft words. Words that it would be okay….he had to make it so. He had to.

He couldn’t put them through that again.

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felonious_punk
2008-07-02 10:00 pm UTC (link)

Even before the trauma stole the prince right out of the little princess’ life in the middle of the night, Sophie had not been one give to flights of fancy. It wasn’t simply a sharp slap in the face to force reality upon her. No, Sophie had always been a girl to live intently in the here and now. Practical far more than emotional. She didn’t believe in fairies or witches or goblins, or any of the spooky things in children’s stories that went bump in the night. Santa Claus, for Sophie, had never been anything more than a way for parents to keep their kids in line, or… whatever was the reason people had for so long perpetuated the myth. At least as long as she could remember. She just couldn’t remember actually ever believing it, though… surely she had at some time. Like… when she was one, and he was a scary, old, fat man that smelled like he’d been peed and vomited on way too many times.

And so now… this? Her own father? Yes, she would never be able to look at the world the same again. Everything she’d ever known, all she had ever believed… or disbelieved, would now come into question.

Maybe there really were tiny little men with pointy ears living in cute cottages in some remote northern location with the knowledge and money to power a reindeer drawn sled to traverse the entire globe in the span of twenty four hours, delivering toys to every single boy and girl in the world, whether Christian or not. Unless they were Jewish. Or really really poor.

Was there any question though, that she’d rather have him here now, and be face with this truth? Sophie always preferred the truth, even when the truth was ugly, or bizarre. And no question that she preferred having her father back. No matter what. Of course… she’d rather him be warm, and smile more often, and maybe look a little older instead of the exact same as he had when last she saw him. But one thing Sophie did learn in that harsh slap to the face of having her father taken from her… You don’t always get what you rather, but you always need to count your blessings and be thankful for what you do have.

And that was exactly what she’d been doing since he came home.

Hiccoughing, sobbing, Sophie was a complete mess. But she didn’t care. She knew she didn’t have to be strong now, not anymore. At least not in this moment. In this moment she could be the little girl, and let Bas comfort her, and in this moment, she could at least feel like everything was going to be alright. Even if it never was going to be the same again. Even if he had had even his life taken from him… even then, he came back to them. It was kind of romantic, wasn’t it? He really was the knight in shining armor little girls like to imagine their daddies as being. The one that would surmount impossible odds to come back.

He came back.

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