|Lewis Carroll (twas_brillig) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-05-31 03:49:00
|Entry tags:||cassandra, lewis carroll|
Who: Cassandra & Lewis Carroll
When: Friday 8th, late night
Where: Carroll's apartment
What: Surprise late night visits from the Trojan fairy.
Warnings: Passing mention of rape/murder
Cassandra didn't fear the city as a girl should. It wasn't so much a sense of invulnerability so much as a knowledge that if something bad were to happen to her she would know about it beforehand. She had been kidnapped, and raped, and murdered, and she had known each time. Things didn't sneak up on Cassandra - except when they did. The times she didn't see danger coming were the very worst. Those were the only things that could actually rattle the Trojan princess.
But tonight there was no danger and she made her way to Charles' home without incident, a note left for her brother in case he woke before she returned. (He wouldn't wake to check on her. Cassandra was sure of it.)
She climbed the side ivy on the side of his building and pulled herself over the balcony before slipping through the window. He was alone in bed and Cassandra moved the blankets to curl in beside him, pressing her slender form to the warmth of his own.
Charles was only used to one person curling up in bed with him and as the warmth of another body woke him up he very nearly wrapped his arms around who he assumed was Hans. And then his senses returned slowly and he remembered that Hans was at his own home.
This body next to him was not Hans.
Don't panic, Charles thought as he slowly pulled himself away from the intruder. He couldn't see who it was, only the vague shape of someone small under the blankets. A gnome! No, that's ridiculous!
Charles slipped out of the bed and frantically he whispered, "hello!?"
"Noble," Cassandra said instead of a greeting. "From the Germanic Adalheidis to the Old French Adelais then to the Alice used in Italian, English and French." She frowned. "In French in means anchovy. A noble fish."
That could only be Cassandra. Charles visibly relaxed, at least if Cassie could see him. "Hi, Cassandra," he said quietly. "Are you alright? Do...do you want a tuna sandwich?"
"I cannot eat fish when Apollo is at rest," Cassandra said, shaking her head in the darkness. "Their scales are too bright for the hours held tight by Nyx, why are you awake?" There was no discernible pause between the one thought and the next, simply a run of words that ended in a question to the now standing man who she could see well enough by the light from the window.
Charles blinked and he licked his lips. "Er...I'm awake because you woke me up. It's okay though, I don't mind. How- How did you get in?"
"in through the window," Cassandra confided, walking her fingers along the bed. "Like a little winged mouse, like Atalanta with her legs as strong as any boy. I could beat you at a footrace," she assured Charles, "but I still would not marry you. But should you hunt down a boar I would most certainly eat it. Should we set sail far across the sea and seek out a newer world than this?"
Charles chuckled and he nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if you could. But...not marrying me is a good choice. Are you hungry? I don't have any boar but I could make a chicken sandwich!"
"I like chicken must more than boar," Cassandra told him before slipping out of the bed then and walking across to where he stood, taking his hand to lead him towards the kitchen as though he might not know where it was. Cassandra knew though. Cassandra who had never before stepped foot in his kitchen knew exactly where to find it.
She let go of his hand to sit down on a stood at the table, straightening out the old blue summer dress she wore.
She watched him look for things for a moment but there was something choking her, climbing up her tongue to be free with tiny claws. So she opened her mouth and spoke words she didn't know: "O fair cold face! O form of grace, for human passion madly yearning. O weary air of dumb despair, from marble won, to marble turning. "Leave us not thus," we fondly pray. "We cannot let thee pass away."" She frowned. "These are prayers stuck in my throat."
Charles had been searching for sandwich fixings when Cassandra quoted himself to him. He turned with a butter knife in his hand and watched her, one eyebrow raised. "That is my poem. Are- Is there something you are supposed to tell me?"
"Not supposed to tell anyone of the things that fate carves," Cassandra said, picking up an apple from the nearby fruit bowl and inspecting it while she casually spoke. "A man's coming here soon. I can hear his little feet."
"A man is coming here," he asked, slightly worried about that. Unless she was referring to Hans of course. Charles reached out for the mayonnaise and he opened the jar to spread some on the bread. "Should I be worried about this man?"
"He won't hurt you," Cassandra shrugged, watching with interest what he was doing. "Unless you see him."
Charles very nearly said they should leave the apartment then, but something stopped him. She was just a child, wasn't she? Just a child repeating poetry. This was nothing. Everything would be fine. "Ah. I see." He put some chicken on the bread and then he handed Cassandra the sandwich. "Here you go. Eat up and then I'll walk you home."
Cassandra watched him sadly, knowing he didn't believe her and expecting nothing more. "I'm sorry about your head," she just said and then took the sandwich."