Eris // Brenna Maeve Ni Doherty (eris_discordia) wrote in greekswim, @ 2008-09-28 22:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | eris, himeros |
Brenna/Eris and Adam/Himeros: Oionos Cafe
Who: Brenna/Eris and Adam/Himeros
Where: Oionos Cafe, Plaka
When: Sunday night
What: Coffee
Rating: PG-13 for cursing
Status: Complete
She sat alone at one of the tables half covered by the awning; her second cup of coffee set in front of her half-finished. It wasn't the coffee Brenna was used to, but it had enough caffeine to keep her going which meant no nightmares. It wasn't the best way to solve her problem however, so far, it was working fine enough. It did leave her with a major case of jitters, though.
The dark-haired woman tapped her spoon against her journal absently. She hadn't looked to see if her entry had gotten any replies. Fuck them if no one decided to come. She didn't need them. Alright, yes, she was curious about these people and whether or not they could help her. If anyone of them were coming, Brenna hoped they hadn't decided to gang up; take her with a mob mentality. Green eyes darted to the passerbys, noting their presence with satisfaction. Should any attempt be made - at abduction or murder - there would be plenty of witnesses, at least.
Adam wasn't all shiny and glittery like he'd been the past- well since he'd arrived in Athens. He was actually dressed down as well, in a pair of old comfortable jeans and a naturally faded t-shirt. His journal was tucked under his arm as he walked into the café. He wasn't really in a coffee mood, but he did decide that the entry made by the woman with the writing that had been seeming to anger most people about finally being willing to -meet- someone, anyone was intriguing enough to skip a night of clubbing. Besides, Fancy had been right about one thing… he'd been loosing control- tonight was his night to regain some of that.
Still drumming her spoon, Brenna looked up at the man; her gaze traveling from his face to the book and back. "You'll be one of them, then?" she asked, struggling to keep the disbelief from her voice. Well, this was bound to get interesting, she supposed, if there really were people inside her book. Not as interesting if there'd been demons or spirits, but infinitely safer. Demons and spirits were immune to the small but otherwise effective-against-human-attackers penknife she carried in her pocket.
Adam turned at the voice to his left. His eyes wandered over her face and then to the journal on the table. With a small smile Adam nodded. "I would be." He replied, pleased she was speaking English. He gestured to one of the seats with a questioning look as he completely turned to face her.
She lifted one shoulder then let it drop in a disinterested manner. If he wanted to sit, fine. If he wanted to leave, just as well; maybe even better. Despite inviting the lot to join her, Brenna was still very much ambivalent to the whole situation. "Which one are you?"
"Adam." He informed her as he pulled out the chair and sat. "Though y'probably wouldn't recognize me from m'rightin'." He said, his Welsh-American accent a strange mix, even for a tourist. "I've kinda been more an observer than a writer… after m'first entry." Been busy to do more than read as well.
"A watcher," Brenna commented. "Or stalker, aye?" Dropping the spoon, she crossed her arms on the table then leaned forward. "What made you come if you weren't one of the ones I've been fighting with?"
"Not a stalker, just been keeping busy." He shrugged slightly at her other question. "I guess I was curious." Adam replied. "I mean y'seemed quite tormented and no one really seemed t'want t'do anythin' but fight. No one seemed t'wanna take a moment t'listen or understand." Well there was that one girl… but she seemed a bit off.
She blew an annoyed breath out through her nose. "Tormented, is it? And you're here to be my savior. How grand." Brenna settled back in her chair, glaring at Adam, her mouth drawn in a tight line. Oh, she was pleased he'd come alone - and wasn't one of the eejits she'd taken to warring with - but she certainly hadn't been expecting someone who wanted to understand her.
Adam laughed a little. "Nah, last thing I'd be is a savior. Figured y'could use a little company in y'r torment, lord knows I could." He'd discovered a thing or two about what dreams and things could do to you, and despite Fancy's advice, he was still struggling. "Better t'suffer as two than suffer as one."
One dark brow quirked as she regarded him. "Misery loves company, so says the cliche," Brenna bit before taking up her coffee and taking a long sip. It didn't help her jittering or her nerves but did provide a delicious, familiar warmth. "So, what's been tormenting you if you need the company?"
Ok so, it wasn't so much -torment- as it was just a bit of a pain. "Sex." Adam replied frankly, placing the journal on the table and interlacing his fingers over it.
Brenna almost spit out her second sip, having not expected that answer. "Sex?" she repeated. "Meaning you're not getting any? Because if that's the case, you've come to the wrong person for a cure."
"Quite th' opposite actually." He told her. "When I'm asleep I dream about it… or some variation there of. When I'm awake, the impulse to pursue it- or some variation of it- is…" He shook his head slightly. "Very hard to resist." Adam laughed a little, realizing how ridiculous it must sound. "I've felt like th' biggest hypocrite this past week, doing things I've told m'kids t'avoid- t'maintain self control."
She continued to scowl and once more folded her arms over her chest. "Hypocrite or not, you'd best be keeping it in your pants for the remainder of this conversation or you'll run the risk of losing it." Her voice - along with her death glare - left no question about whether or not she was joking.
He chuckled a little, ignoring the stare. "I actually came here in full hope that exactly that would happen. I thought that maybe I could have a conversation with someone that wouldn't end up with myself, or them getting laid." Adam said. "I figured from your writings that I would be safe with you."
"You know, that's not exactly flattering," Brenna bit. "'I've been craving sex but don't really want it so I'm going to talk to you in hopes of staying limp,' isn't the best way to start any conversation you were hoping to have." Anger dictated that she should leave. Stubbornness kept her in her seat.
"That's not what I meant and I think y'know it." Adam told her. "Y'r a very strickin' woman. Were this a different settin' and other circumstances I'd be doin' just what y'warned me against." He shook his head. "From y'r words, y'seemed like th' kinda girl who had a bit of self control 'bout her."
Self control. The words made Brenna cringe. She didn't feel very in control of herself over these last few weeks. Didn't feel in control of anything. And in truth, it was that - not the journals or the people who were writing in them - that threw her off and yes, terrified her. The lack of control. "Control is important," she said at length, reaching for her cup again.
"So I've been told." So I tell my kids. Adam looked at the table for a long moment. "So, if I can ask. What is it exactly that haunts y'r dreams?"
She continued to peer at him over the rim of the coffee mug, fixing him with emerald eyes before placing the cup back on the table top. "Blood. Lots of it. Rivers full of it, fields covered in it." The blood haunted her; the fact that she woke up incredibly aroused by it terrified her. "And you just have sexy nightmares, then?"
"No blood, mostly I dream of images… images of people. People I've never met; dating, courting, sometimes fucking. They seem so bizarre and almost mundane." But when he woke up his whole body tingled as if he'd been apart of the ongoings, even though he hadn't appeared in the dream at all. "But there are many times I dream of a woman. She's motherly toward me but I love her passionately. I know she loves me, but there's another she loves more. I strive and desire to be her favorite, but there is another who is always just ahead of me, and I love him just as much as her." Adam sighed softly. "They're incredibly confusing."
Something sparked in the back of her mind. Something dark and angry. "The woman, what does she look like?" Such beauty. Such grace. She couldn't help but hate Her. Of course the man would be taken by Her but she would fight Her every moment of everyday for the rest of their eternity.
"A goddess." He replied. "In every way you'd think when you'd picture one; long flowing light hair, perfect skin, a light around her and the most loving touch." His eyes closed slightly as he spoke, his hand moving to his cheek. "Lyrical voice and an energy radiating off her of passion."
Brenna couldn't stop her lip from curling in distaste. "Why are all the 'beautiful' goddesses blonde?" she all but growled, clutching the handle of her mug hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "I'll tell you that's not how I picture goddesses."
"Everyone has their own images, this is only th'one I see. I dun even think I'm th'one in control of what I see if that makes it any better." Adam fiddled a little with the binding on his book. "I've seen other goddesses sometimes, not frequently, and not as clearly. They're always watching the one with the man. Neither of them are blonde."
"And both of them are probably ugly - or evil. It's always the way." Brenna rolled her eyes, scoffing. Typical. "But better than swimming in the blood of fallen soldiers, I suppose." Wrinkling her nose at the coffee, the Irish woman wished she had something stronger to sip but didn't dare touch alcohol as she knew it would only inspire worse nightmares.
"I guess they probably are better... though you're wrong about the women. They're not ugly, and I don't get the impression of evil, at least I don't think so. They're just..." Adam paused to try and think of the right phrasing. "Not as vivid."
Sighing, she started to flip the pages of her journal anxiously. Open the cover, fan the pages only to close it again. Over and over. Damn jitters were getting to her. Brenna vowed the cup in front of her would be the last of the caffeine she had that day. "Shiny. I see blood. You see blondes. Now, if there was only a way to make the dreams stop."
Adam shook his head. "I don't know. I kinda wish the awake stuff would take a break too." He said, as his fingers ran over the name plate. "I keep hoping to read an answer, people keep writing that they've 'figured it out', but that doesn't mean it's stopped." Could he go back to Lucy since things got worse? Could he face her?
"Well, anyone who's figured out how to make them stop is more than welcome to share their secrets. I've gone far enough out of my head and would like to get sorted before I leave to go home." Whenever that was. Probably when boredom set in. Or money ran out.
"Yea… though, with as fast as that's coming f'r me… I don't know if I'll be able to." Adam said, looking to the table. "Can I ask? Where is home?" He didn't look up from the table, not really expecting the woman to share, she'd been so closed off to everyone he doubted she'd open up to -him- of all people.
"Where the Hell do you think home is?" Brenna spat with a thick brogue, her eyes narrowing. He couldn't be that stupid. "If you're asking specifically, Belfast, but if you need the country, I'm going to be saying my farewells to you."
"I don't assume t'assume anythin'." Adam replied. "Bein' a Welsh man who doesn' call Wales home and all, I'm quite aware that th'way a person speaks doesn't always tell where they're from." Adam looked up to her. "But I am aware of where Belfast is at least."
With another snort, Brenna picked up her coffee and swigged down what remained of it. Her nose wrinkled as the too-strong taste from the bottom of the mug covered her tongue. "At least," she repeated, frowning at him. She'd been hoping for some answers with this meeting, but Adam was apparently as lost as she was when it came to the mysteries surrounding the journals.
"So, have you found out what the name on your journal means yet?" He asked, shaking off her snippy tone. Adam hadn't found out about his own yet, but when he read the entries about them many of the names he was familiar with. One of his kids had been big into mythology and tended to acquaint most things to some story or god, be it Greek, Roman, Norse or something else. It was an obsession that he'd encouraged because it was something that he enjoyed that was safe. Of course it also meant that Adam had heard most of the myths and life stories of all sorts of god.
Still scowling, Brenna flipped the front cover of her journal open, revealing the Greek squiggles above her name. "Eris or something like that. The one who said her name was Rhea told me that, then basically bitched me out for some unknown reason." She rolled her eyes, obviously displeased with the cryptic woman who seemed to know what was going on but spoke only in riddles. "Don't know what an 'eris' is or what it means, though."
Eris, the name was familiar, he just had to remember. "I don't think it's a 'what' but a 'who'." Adam replied as he tried to remember the stories. Something about a war and a wedding.
"Wonderful," Brenna muttered, running her fingers over the strange letters. "A Greek patron saint. It's not like I don't have enough of those back home." But there was a pull to the name; something the brunette couldn't explain no matter how hard she tried. "What about yours?" she asked, uncomfortable with speaking about herself. "What does yours say or mean, then?"
Adam shook his head. "I don't know." He replied. "I haven't asked." It then suddenly clicked. "The Trojan war." Hell, he didn't need a myth obsessed former-drug addicted kid to tell him about that, his high school English teacher had drilled the Illiad so far into his head, and then in college as well.
Dark brows knit together as she regarded him. "What of it?" Brenna asked, though she didn't need to wait for his answer as the images from her dreams came roaring to life once more. Revenge had never been sweeter. Not when she drank free the blood spilled on both sides. See what came of wronging her? None would dishonor her again! Not now when they wept in the fields and in the homes of those who had fallen to her wrath.
Brenna gripped the edge of the table with both hands; her heart pounding wildly enough to convince her it was trying to escape from her chest. "Fuck," she whispered and gave her head a furious shake. "Stop it."
Adam reached out to lay his warm hand on hers. "A vision?" He'd had more than his share, and after her description of hers he could only assume that's what caused her reaction.
Her eyes glowed an eerie and violent green, piercing him when she lifted her head again. Breath a bit shallow, skin gone a tad paler, she felt like something was attempting to burst free inside her. "Yes," Brenna answered in a raspy voice and immediately wished she had water or that she hadn't been in such a rush to finish her coffee.
"Tell me? It might help to share." Adam always encouraged his kids to share, it never helped to bottle things up. "Not keeping the burden of the whole thing to yourself might help ease it all."
She didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it made it happen again and again, like an old record that kept skipping. "I'd rather not," Brenna growled and pulled her nails out from where she'd dug them into the table. Talking about things only made them worse in her experience at the counseling center; couples would storm out, cry or scream, even come to blows over what was said in sessions. And while she enjoyed the show, complete with refereeing shrinks, she didn't want to be part of it.
He pulled his hand back. "Alright." Adam also never pushed when someone was in real pain. Tended to get fists flown in your direction- sometimes it happened even when you didn't push. "How about talking about something else then? Something to take your mind off it?" He glanced over at her. "Or not."
"I didn't invite people here for a session," the Irish woman declared, closing her journal but leaving it on the table. "I want to figure this damned thing out to make the fucking visions and nightmares go away!"
"I'm not sure if it's that easy." He admitted. "I haven't read a single entry that says that the visions went away, only that they've 'figured it out'. I think we might be stuck with it. You with the violence, me with the… well." Adam stood up. "You know how terrifying it is to dream of flying three nights in a row when you start to shake the moment you -think- about getting into a plane?" He scooped up his journal. "I hope they'll go away… I hope you'll find a way..." Adam stepped out from the table and pushed in his chair.
"Well, it should be that easy," she snapped, leaning back in her chair while watching him. "It's been over a month and all it's done is get worse. I haven't slept in days. I lost my job. And I am a couple hours from cracking so you 'hoping' they'll go away isn't doing me much good at this point in time." Brenna's hands started to shake again so she stuffed them in her pockets.
Adam looked down to her. "Over a month? I've been dealing with these... impules... f'r over eight months, the dreams were just the icing on the cake." And he still was trying to juggle between how good they made him feel, and how much he wanted to go back to his normal life. "But yea... I guess this conv'rsation was kinda pointless, eh? S'rry f'r waistin' y'r time, and bein' no help at all." He said as he started to walk away.
She wanted to scream after him; to throw a fit and demand he sit back down and listen to what she had to say. Instead, Brenna waited until he was out of sight before snapping, "I meant the journals. I've had the fucking thing for over a month and during that time the visions started. I've always had the dreams. Night terrors," Brenna admitted. Ever since her childhood, she'd awoken screaming and covered in sweat. "Since coming here, they've become more frequent and more realistic. So, you can complain about your happy sexy time dreams all you want but until you've walked through my dreams, don't make light of the time I've had this past month!"
But he wasn't there to hear her.
The conversation had been pointless indeed.