Tanym/Hades and Anne/Persephone Who: Tanym/Hades and Anne/Persephone When: Evening What: Dinner, talking and something better than dessert afterward Where: Tanym's place Rating: PG-13 now Status: [complete.]
Clear minded from resting after a long shift of autopsies Tanym muddled around the small apartment kitchen with Kirby hopping around his feet, wanting to help. Growing up in a restaurant with his father the chef had taught him a lot about cooking. In school he was always the one making things for study groups, to the point that even on nights when the group didn't meet in his place he cooked (and everyone started to contribute money to fund the food). Of course this was a treat for Tanym too, living alone he didn't cook as often as he would have liked to, at least not nice meals like this. Closing the oven with his foot he pulled off his apron and then moved to the sink to wash his hands, things were ok for a bit and he could get to straightening the place for his guest. It also helped keep the nerves down. But why was he nervous?
A short while later, everything was prepped, the entrée still had some time before it was ready (just enough for Anne to show up and a bit of small talk), the place didn't look a mess and Tanym himself had changed into a nice blue button up a black slacks, nice without leaving the realm of casual. Kirby was sitting on the couch, snoozing. Apparently running around 'helping' took a lot out of the little terrier.
Anne tucked her long hair back behind her ears, nervously, taking a breath as she got to the door. She had come via taxi to Thission, her typically social demeanour completely lost -- so anxious was she -- so that the ride had been a quiet one, rather than filled with interesting little conversations with the driver. It had been quiet, full of thoughts and feelings and a small series of misplaced images. She tried to get those out of her head and smoothed down her long coat and little black dress -- something that was casual enough, but not too much so -- as she waited, another nervous habit.
She had not been able to get him out of her head since the other evening, and her conversation with Felicity -- Hecate, her mind corrected -- only made things more complicated. She tried to put all of that aside, focusing, instead, on the present evening. That should make things easier, should it not? Of course. She checked the address she had noted down on her phone before finally knocking. Once, twice.
The first sounds that came through the door was the frantic barking of Kirby and little nails scrapping at the door followed by a muffled voice. A moment later the door opened and Tanym stood there with terrier in arm. Kirby for his part was panting and wagging his tail happily at Anne. "I am so glad you came." Tanym told her with a smile as he stepped back for her to enter. The place was filled with the aroma of cooking seasonings, tomatoes and cooking chicken. "Please, come in."
Anne smiled when she saw him, greeting him cheerily. "And I'm glad to be here!" she said. "Good evening, how do you do?" she asked, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek in greeting. She petted Kirby, greeting the dog, as well, and thanking Tanym as he beckoned her inside.
"Oh, my, that smells lovely!" she could not help but remark at the scent of delicious food that was plainly in the air. He cooked. He cooked? And quite well, from the aroma, it seemed. Were those tomatoes? How divine!
Once the door was closed, Kirby was deposited on the ground to run around and Tanym offered to take Anne's coat. "Thank you." He replied to her compliment. "I do hope you are not a vegetarian." He would be chagrined if she was and would have to improvise quickly. Gods she was lovely. And the kiss… as chaste as it was gave him small chills all over.
"You're very welcome; thank you!" she said, as he took her coat. At his question, however, she could not suppress a chuckle. "No, no! Meat is good. Besides, a vegetarian diet shrinks the brain, and I can't have that," she said. She grinned at him. "You look very nice, by the way," she said, in a very matter-of-fact sort of way. She paused. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. The question, of course, was aimed at the dinner preparations.
He had made an egregious error and didn't realize it until she complimented him… again. "Thank you, you look…." Tanym looked at her, a literal loss for the right word. "Stunning." It wasn't strong enough, but it would have to work. "And no, everything will be ready shortly and you are my guest… Can I fetch you something to drink?"
Anne felt herself flush. "Thank you," she said, though she raised a brow slightly at his no. Fine, then. When she invited him for dinner, she would make a fuss and insist that he not do anything. "Are you sure?" she asked. At his offer of a drink, she nodded. "Oh, yes, please," she said.
He nodded, walking past the loveseat that served as his couch in the living room and around the counter into the kitchen. "I am positive. There really is not a thing to do anyhow… we just have to find a way to kill about…" Tanym paused as he looked at the clock. "Maybe ten minutes." He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. "Shouldn't be too hard to do." The dining table was set already off to the side of the kitchen and a small hall branched off of the living area to what was logically the bathroom and bedroom. Tanym pulled out a bottle of white wine and poured them each a glass. "Sorry, nothing pomegranate." He told her with a small smile as he held the glass out to her.
Anne followed, tentatively, finally relenting in her efforts to help. "Alright. You've a lovely place, by the way," she said. She was unable to help a chuckle at his mention of the pomegranate flavour. "Wine is perfect, thank you so much," she replied, trying not to become giddy as she saw him smile. And really, she was not picky. Wine was an excellent choice, she felt -- Pino, Chardonnay, Merlot, Cabernet, White Zin... they all worked. The thing that mattered was that she was there, with him. And he had put everything together rather nicely, she thought, noting how the table was set and everything.
"Thank you." He replied. "It's not much, feels kinda small sometimes, but it's only me and Kirby so, for now... it suffices." Tanym gestured to the table. "The entree needs a few more moments, but I do have a salad course... something to start you off with."
"You're welcome. It's perfect," she said. And really, the whole thing was. He was. "Oh?" she approached the table at his gesture. "Salad, too? You really are something," she said, and in a tone that implied that this something was good, nothing short of amazing.
"An ape can make salad." Tanym chuckled as he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for her. "A man with one arm can make a salad... more difficult of course, but not impossible." The jokes were bad, but it kept his mind occupied because he kept finding himself staring at her. Once she was seated he moved to the kitchen and pulled out the two salads he head made earlier. Gathering them up with the dressing he made it to the table balancing it all like a pro. "Here you are." It looked like a greek salad with assorted lettuce, tomatoes, goat cheese, olive, very colorful and a glass bottle of what looked like a red vinagrette.
"Yes, but would you really want to have a salad made by an ape?" Anne asked, with a raised brow, playfully. She sat as he pulled the chair out for her. "Thank you," she smiled. "What about a pirate with a hook? How would that work?" Yes, she could joke badly, too, which was quite good, since her mind kept wondering back toward things she was trying not to think about. She watched him in his balancing act, grinning. "Thank you so much," she said. The salad looked fantastic, and Greek? Wonderful.
Once his hands were free he reached into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches to light the candles on the table. "You are more than welcome." He said as he pulled his cupped hand away from the last candle and brought the match to his lips to blow it out. "I can't stand just salad in a bowl so I hope you enjoy it... and the dressing... it's a family recipe."
"It looks divine." Divine. Why did she use words like that? It wasn't necessary -- using words like divine, and epic. But it was a fair assessment. And candles? "I like the candles, very nice touch." Romantic. Yes, that, too. She looked at her plate. Haven't eaten in days. Since when? How long had it been? She didn't count the days, couldn't have counted the days in the darkness. She wouldn't eat, never. Never again, as long as she was down there. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the here and now. Not now.
"Something wrong?" He asked as he took his seat and draped a napkin over his lap. It was almost like he could sense it, but the lost look on her face seemed to be reason enough to ask. Tanym looked at her, just look at her, he couldn't take his eyes off her... she was perfect. The words that the woman in the journal had said, about his feelings being true... had she read it? Did she know he was writing about her? Did she really feel as strong a connection as he did? He blinked, forgetting he'd even asked a question, or which question he'd asked aloud. He had to get a grip, he was a nice guy and she was a nice girl and... *bing* "Chicken's done..." Tanym excused himself back into the kitchen. Grabbing the towel off the counter and exposing his copy of the journal that had been covered at some point during the day as he headed to the oven to fetch their dinner.
Anne watched him retreat to the kitchen, turning her fork over in her left hand as she considered the question. Wrong? No, no, nothing was... Her eyes caught the bit of black under where the towel had been. Was that his journal? She leaned forward in her seat, trying to catch a glance. It was his journal. She took a sip of the wine, swallowing, hard, waiting for him to return.
He pulled the hot pan out and dished up the meal, it was chicken stuffed with tomatoes and cheese- another family recipe. His hands trembled a moment as he went to pick up the plates. Tanym had been fighting the visions, he was a scientific mind damnit. He was a doctor. He wasn't a pawn in someone else's games, he'd worked hard to get where he was and he wasn't going to give in so easily. That's when he turned to re-enter the dining area and saw Anne sitting there and it suddenly felt so easy to succumb.
Looking at him again, she could feel that fluttering feeling inside of her. She tried to focus, not to let those emotions and sensations and visions get in the way of everything. "That smells wonderful," she said. And that was quite the understatement. She put her fork down, realizing she was still turning it over, both anxiously and thoughtfully.
He nodded as he placed the plates down before both of their spots. "I've not made it in a very long time... so if it sucks then," he smiled, "you'll know why." He found his hand brushing over her hair lovingly as he spoke as if there were no such thing as personal space with them. Quickly he pulled his hand back and took his seat. He had to get back on track and not think about the journal, or the impulses, or the confirmation of his feelings. "So." Tanym said as he raised his fork. "How have your studies been?"
Had he just been brushing her hair with his hand? That feeling, of him brushing her hair with his hand, as they were seated side-by-side, him on his ebony throne. She blinked the image away before he'd seated himself. "I'm sure it's not going to suck," she chided. A question, a question, and unrelated to the journals, or anything of the sort, to boot? She felt relieved. "Great, actually," she said, glad for a subject that was not as weighty. "Juxtaposing Plato and the Homeric Hymns." She took her fork in hand again. "And how has work been?"
"Well..." He said raising his own utensils to cut into the chicken, letting the red and white suffing seep out slowly. "And probably something you don't want to hear about before you digest food." Tanym said looking up to her with a laugh. Cutting open death bodies and poking around inside them was probably the last thing she needed to hear before eating. "But it's well... I'm currently on the graveyard rotation, and I've been trying to pick up a few ER shifts at the hospital to keep me around the living." And his mind off the dreams.
"Yes, you're probably right." Anne chuckled at that, cutting into her food, as well. "And how's the ER?" she asked, cutting off a piece and trying it. Now, while she was loathe to use the word at the moment, she had to admit, it was rather epic. "Oh my," she managed, after swallowing. "This is incredible, very, very good!" she said.
He actually blushed a bit at her comment, taking a bite himself. It wasn't as good as his father made it, but then again nothing seemed to be. "Thank you." He replied, swallowing. "The ER is..." Crazy, chaotic, a mess, crowded, loud, busy, stressful, nothing like the serenty he felt when around the dead? "A big wild at times, but... refreshing." Ok, so he lied, but how crazy was it to admit that he really felt more comfortable around the dead than the living? How, since the whole journal thing, he'd actually started to talk to them as if they could talk back? He just had to keep reminding himself of who he was.
"You're very welcome," Anne said. And the food was thoroughly enjoyable. She could not suppress a raised brow, however, at the word refreshing. Something was off about it, and she was not sure how, but she could sense it. Still, she shook that feeling off, as she was trying to keep the rest at bay. Her eyes again went to the journal, then back to him. "How do you feel about me?" she asked, before she could stop herself or think any the better of it.
"I'm sorry?" He asked, blinking up at her and not comprehending the question- or not wanting to.
Anne tilted her head slightly, flushed. "Nothing, nothing," she said, quickly, focusing on the plate in front of her before glancing back up at him. "So how's the ER... refreshing?" because that was the last word he had used before her non-sequitor.
His turned and traced the direction she had looked behind him before she asked the previous question- the journal. Realization swam over him and Tanym's fork clinked as he put it down. "I'm going to sound like a fool..." He said, breaking his determination on -not- talking about this. "But I'm sure you already know that." Moving his glass closer to his plate he reached across the side of the table for her hand. "I've been having that dream more... the woman in the light. It's clearer now and it's not a room of light she's in... it's the surface and I'm in another world." He could feel the pain of separation swelling inside him. "I've never believed a dream to be more than a dream until I met you. I've only known you a -very- short while, but I feel like...." He sounded like more than a fool. "You're the most important thing in my life. Like I've known you for ever... and I find myself..." He stopped. Tanym couldn't go on, any more and he would step beyond the realm of foolishness and into the realm of madness and delusions.
Anne looked at him, listening intently, her own fork dropping and clinking, and she squeezed his hand. "You don't sound like a fool at all," she said, once he had stopped. "I understand more than you could imagine." She wanted to pause, to try to think of how to go about this in the best manner, but she couldn't; around him, her feelings and instincts tended to take hold, she had noticed, and so she raised her free hand to her hair, where he had touched it. "When you had your hand in my hair, here," she said, I saw something, like a dream, almost -- like so many dreams I've had -- and you were there, both of us in this darkness. It is more than a dream. It's truth. It's everywhere," she said. "You're everywhere, and everything, and have always been," she paused, searching his eyes with hers. "Hades." His name was sweet on her lips.
It wouldn't be a stretch to say that the myth and the mortal were at odds. His eyes looked into hers and teared up a little as she spoke. -Tanym- felt his breath hold when she called him the other name. "But it's all an impossibility..." He said, his voice trembling to keep it above a whisper. "There is no such thing as... We're -human-." He had a mother and a father who loved him. "The way we feel about each other is just chemical reactions in our brains... strong ones, but..." They were -very- attracted to each other... nothing more. "The dreams are just our subconscious trying to work out our daily stressers and fantasies..." Who was he trying to convince?
"And we shouldn't be having visions of things we've never seen, shouldn't be feeling the things that we feel. There shouldn't be a sense of familiarity about certain things." She tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear. "Normal chemical reactions are one thing, these are not that. And I know I'm not on any psychedelics, dissociatives, or deliriants." She paused, raising a brow at him, pointedly. "Don't you find it funny that you named your dog 'Cerberus'?" she asked. "Isn't it curious that you have chosen a profession that puts you in constant contact with the dead?" she asked.
He was starting to feel dizzy in the chair and slowly pulled his hand away from hers, moving it to brush through his hair as he got up and paced a couple steps. "It's all just a bizarre coincidence." Even he didnt believe that. Kirby for his part heard his name mentioned and perked up his head from the couch. Tanym looked over at him and he could see the large, black, three-headed dog take over the form of the small rat terrier. "Oh god..." He breathed, pacing some more. He wasn't a pawn, he was Dr. Tan-, he'd gone to school at Cam-, his parents were-, his father had swallowed him whole where he grew until his youngest brother came and cut him open to free him and his other siblings, what was more real?
She watched him for a moment, or several, rather, giving him some time to pace, a thing she often did herself. And then again, she could recall him pacing before, too. So long ago, it seemed, him with his sceptre, Cerberus barking, the golden keys to the large gates. She got up from her seat quietly, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, once some time had elapsed. She looked at him, quietly. Hades? she wanted to ask, but there were no words, not for the moment.
He stoped and turned to face her. If acceptance meant her... He rose a hand and brushed his fingers through her hair, and away from her face. He just looked at her. She stood there, so regal. Eminating light even while surrounded by darkness. It was if the strings binding between them had tightened. His hand found her hip while his other coaxed her head to tilt up toward him. "I'm not sure what's real anymore." Tanym whispered to her. "But how I feel for you." Slowly he leaned down and kissed her lips, it was something he'd wanted to do since he'd first set eyes upon her.
Perfect. In a single word, that's what it was; that's what he was, what his lips on hers was, the way his hand found her hip was, the way the other hand coaxed her head up for the kiss was. She returned the kiss, tiptoeing a bit, one hand still on one of his shoulders, the other finding its way into his hair. She pulled away just a little bit. "And how I feel for you," she mumbled, up against his lips, before kissing him, returning her lips to his fully. She had felt it since the moment she saw him that day on the street in Thission, and it went beyond that.