gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-02 14:13:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | complete, mckenna jones, song challenge, zgraham haldar |
the sugar-coated pretty little secret
Who: Graham & McKenna
What: Song Lyrics Challenge (the song is Hush Hush by The Pistol Annies)
When: Saturday night
Where: The woods
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
The moon was still guarding the night, which made for a nice stroll on one of the forest’s walking paths. For Graham, there really was no option but the nighttime - and when he needed fresh air, a minute or so to think, he would often come out here even if he knew he wasn’t alone; the forest at the stroke of the midnight hour, with the prominent scents of earth and water drifting up into the air, was a playground for many types of supernatural folk. They seemed to fit his mood too, these surroundings - whispering trees and their dark shadows making up the backbone of the forest, overhanging branches and the crunch of papery leaves into the soil. Wasn’t like he was trying to be particularly quiet either, he was just walking - at a normal pace. No need to sprint. Soon he would head to Books & Bins for some accounting work, a few things he made a mental note to do before the sun came up and he retreated to the safety of the blackout curtains of his flat. That was all on his mind too, sort of in the background. In addition to a thousand other things. -- Kenna hated the cold, but she loved the forest more. It was the place that felt most like home. Sitting out among the chorus around her. It was almost the same as sitting among the redwoods that watched her grow up in California. She was getting a kinship with the old pines and firs of this area. It was nice, though her favorite oak was currently resting through the long winter. She liked the oak in town the most, as it was the most chatty. She would not say it was a he, though it’s presentational voice for her was masculine and smooth. The ones out here were soft spoken, as if they wanted to stay unheard by the rest of the island. At night, though, she could have the forest mostly to herself. Unless it was the moon, but that was fair. This eve, she sat on her sleeping bag that she draped over a rock to soak up the cold. It was a trick her father taught her when they went to Alaska together. Back home, it was not entirely useful as the mosses were alive and well year round. Here, she needed all the help she could get. Normally, Kenna prefered the ground to sit on, but the dampness of the Northeastern winters made it unhealthy and just messy. So she took to the rocks this time of the year. She was communing with the trees and shrubs. There were some that had been damaged in the last snowstorm and the girl had spent time lending her skills to help heal them. It was a slow process, as she was neither powerful nor ancient enough to do grand works, but she was determined. The forest came alive with tentative chirps of warning. During the day, it usually sang to the arrival of someone else. A welcome no one but her and other dryads could hear. But now, it was subdued. As if cautious. The night was not a safe time for most people to be out. Even she was not foolish enough to think that off the island, it was okay to be out and about on her own. However, here she felt comfortable. The community was too small and everyone knew each other for the most part. That, and she could give a nasty and thorny slap if need be. But the chirps told her to turn, and she did to find one of the older members of the community behind her. Graham was not someone she went out to Vino with for drinks and a chat, but he worked with the bookstore, which she haunted. And for that reason, Kenna poked her face out of her scarf and smiled up at him. “Evening,” she greeted in a quiet tone. No need to yell at night, after all. “Out for an early stroll?” --- Graham knew the girl too, he recognized her. It was hard to not remember that hair anyway, the pastel shades - plus her overall cheer. He spent most of his work ‘day’ with Mircea; they were like two grumpy old men bitching about everything under the sun (hey kids, get off my lawn). Or maybe those two old men muppets in the balcony seats at the opera house. So needless to say, this girl presented something slightly different than the usual. “Hello, Kenna,” he greeted, pausing by her setup here. In the dark he could see with astounding clearly, a predator meant for slinking around in the shadows. “I’m just getting in some fresh air before I hunker down at the bookshop. Are you sure you’re not too cold out here, camping?” Or at least, that’s what he assumed she was doing. The sleeping bag suggested as much, but maybe he was wrong. --- It was not like she did not know she was perhaps a bit more cheerful than most people think is natural. Or normal. Or… okay in any way. But she didn’t see the point in spending the time to get mad and stay that way. Life was too short, even if she had centuries ahead of her. That, and it was scientifically proven that it took more muscles to frown than to smile. That was just uneconomic for the body to frown. Duh. But she smiled up and Graham more as he greeted her and gave a small finger wave with her gloved hand. “It’s a really nice night out,” she offered. It was not as cold as it had been the last few weeks and the sky was clear save for a few clouds passing through. The moon was bright and it was peaceful. Really, she had a hard time finding much aside from the cold to be upset about. Her nose scrunched up at the thought of camping before she looked down at her perch. Oh, right. Sleeping bags usually mean camping. That… actually made a lot more sense than sitting in a forest at night for no reason. “Oh, no. I’m just... “ She tucked her feet under her and shifted. Even in a world such as Summerview, nymphs could be odd. It was normal to do this in her old communes. Encouraged even. “Talking to the forest. Winter is lonely for it with so many animals hibernating or migrating. The sleeping bag is to soak up the cold.” She scratched under her knit cap and tucked her nose into her scarf for a quick puff of hot air on it before re-emerging. “How is everything? Anything exciting on your end of the island?” --- For a nymph, talking to the forest actually made perfect sense. Being one with the ‘tribe,’ so to speak, that tribe being made of wood and leaves - their roots hugging the earth. And winter was lonely for many, it seemed. Maybe it just how stark and cold everything was, how still it could be. “Oh, it’s fine, I suppose. Mundane. Nothing too exciting, since I’m probably too old for such things,” he chuckled smoothly, hands going in the pockets of his sweater - no suit and tie, not tonight. Sometimes he mixed it up a little and besides, he wouldn’t wear something so pristine to wander around the forest in. Instead it was just a cosy, cotton fisherman’s sweater (in black), with pressed trousers at least. Graham rarely wore jeans. He didn’t quite want to continue onward - maybe he could stand some talking as well. To the forest or otherwise. “May I sit?” he asked, motioning to the rock. -- The formality that Graham always seemed to emanate was something of a wonder for Kenna. It really spoke of the difference between their cultures. And their times. She knew Graham was older. It was obvious in some ways, like his mannerisms and dress. It was something she had learned from seeing others of staggering age. Her mother, after all, still was very much the more or less Welsh peasant she had been before the immigration to the States. It was not something that stood out among other dryads, but next to her father, who was a witch, the difference was staggering. Marsi was more like their mother in mannerism and dress. But there was the obvious gap between Derwen’s posture and how she carried herself and Marsi’s more American version. Still. He always looked sharp and cool. It had to be annoying to be so cool. Her nose wrinkled and a smirk pulled at her lips. “You’re not old, Graham,” she replied. He wasn’t There were older. Though… he was a bit of the old man in personality. Maybe that was what he meant? Who knew? “You’re just… refined. Like wine. Old is more like bread that goes stale and moldy.” She gave a playful eyeroll and tucked her nose in again to puff a hot breath over it. “Oh, sure! I don’t take up much space!” She scooted over a bit and shifted the backpack on the ground for him to sit if he wanted. She smiled and tucked her feet underneath her. Where her foot had been pressed against the ground, patches of green-gray lichen had begun to grow to keep her company. “I never saw winters like this before moving out here. California was just wet. And chilly, even in the foothills. Even when I went to Alaska, it was summer and the snow was so… distant. I guess it’s why I still don’t mind it. It’s so… pretty, you know?” AAAAAND there was the filling the air with idle talk. -- “Refined, I’ll take that,” Graham stated as he took a seat, long limbs folding to settle on the rock. “And that’s a good point about the bread.” He’d take that too, since being called moldy would never be considered a compliment in any universe - he might have to reassess his eternal life at that point, should it happen. He was honestly more of a listener than a talker, so Kenna’s elaborate observations and descriptions were endearing to him. Nor were they something he minded. “I know what you mean, the winter’s quite pretty out here,” he agreed. “In London it was rather dreary. Mostly grey. You had other colours - you know, shops and homes and bridges, all separated by this one crack in the landscape which was the Thames.” It was a lot different now too. Red double-decker buses, black cabs rumbling by, blue-uniformed policemen - but always those grey clouds. “I miss it sometimes but everything’s changed now. I doubt I’ll leave Summerview anytime soon.” -- Kenna smirked sheepishly and shifted in her spot. A bit of a wiggle to make a bit more space for the man as she joined her on the rock. One again, as is always the case for the small girl, Kenna marveled at how tall Graham was. It was not that she had no interaction with tall people, it was always just something to behold when it was someone over six feet tall. That was not as common as some people seemed to think. Or at least in her experience. Maybe everyone on the West Coast was just short? Who knew?! It was fun to stand next to tall people, though. She liked seeing just how tiny she was. Just like it made her laugh to put her kid-sized feet next to adult sized feet. It made her giggle. “I’m here to help!” Kenna turned her gaze up to Graham as he spoke. It was hard to remember that everyone seemed to be from so far away. That, much like her, people were in a new land. Even if they had been there for a while, it was not home. Not the way someplace that held a special place in their soul would be. She loved Summerview. She loved the forests and the people.But she would always long for the Santa Cruz Mountains. But she watched the way his lips formed around the words and syllables. The way his Adam's apple bobbed. It was something she had noticed was her odder habits. She was fascinated by people. The way they moved. It was all art to her. “When was the last time you were there? I’ve never been out of the country, but my Mum is from Wales. She says she’s lucky her hometown is not much different than what is what when she left. Unlike Ohio before she went west the first time. Apparently it was all… wooden buildings and horse drawn carriages. Now it’s all stone and metal. She says it feels cold and empty.” -- Besides the city where he’d grown up and witnessed such industrialisation, it had been a long time since Graham had been back to Britain as a whole, really. The other parts that made up the puzzle. “Wales was once lovely,” he mused. “I remember it back then, the fishing villages and the cathedrals. Victorian women with their sun parasols.” Now it was a bit more grim and run down, though some of the towns probably preserved their picturesque charm. “If you like to travel, there’s lots to see beyond this country. If you like the greenery too.” As for London specifically, he had to pause and think about the last time he was there. Hm. “But oh, it’s been awhile for me. At least ten years,” he sighed. “I moved to the States looking for my maker, who had left Britain prior.” A long time before he did, actually - given the way Jane was, she could be in Australia by now (although that would be a poor choice, with those beaches and sunny days). He’d never actually found her. “It was a romantic idea that never really got off the ground.” -- “She’s from Pyles, it’s like… this little hamlet on the sea. I’ve always wanted to go.” She shrugged and picked at the cuff of her sleeve. “I think it was the 1700s? It was before the States existed.” Kenna huffed out a breath a watched the condensation drifted through the air then smiled. How he described it sounded so pretty. The open, rolling hills her mother talked about. Green, green forests and fields. It was sounded perfect. And the cathedrals with their towering, gothic architecture. “I’d like to. But it’s so expensive. And I have school to pay for,” Kenna replied. Not exactly a big reason, but a sizable one. “One day. It was cool seeing Alaska. We were laid over in Canada, so that was pretty cool. But. I have a lot of time to go travel.” She looked up at him and offered a small smile. She was lucky. Luckier, perhaps, than Graham in that case. Her life was not dictated by the sun. Well. Not in a bad way. She could travel and do all the things normal people did without worry. Her life was not changed at all by near immortality. But the girl listened intently as he spoke. A sad smile pulled at her lip. “Do you have any idea where she could be? Or a way to narrow it down?” Her words were coated with the question of why was he looking, though she’d never outright ask. That was his story to tell, after all. --- She definitely had time to travel, she was young. “Even I need to do more traveling, see more of the world - so I can understand that desire,” Graham said. It was something he’d sort of made a New Year’s ‘resolution’ about, when he was with Lenore, so he planned to stick to it. His fellow vampire would probably make sure he did too; they’d find a way to see what they wanted to see and also adhere to the required nocturnal lifestyle. As for Jane, well. His smile was also tinged with sadness, perhaps some bitterness there too. Like the brine of the sea itself. “No idea, but it’s a lost cause. She made me this - “ This being his whole vampire, ah, situation, “....promised a lot of things, then broke them all. And left.” He listened to the chirp of the forest for a moment - all those creaks and all that rustling, sensitive ears picking up on everything. At first that part had been maddening, after Jane turned him. A pounding echo, a swarming in his head - he was convinced he wouldn’t get used to it, but he had. “I never thought I’d love anyone again. But then a year or so ago I started mentoring another vampire - you need a mentor, or else you’ll just be overcome by the bloodlust - after she came here, her maker just...turned her and left. Like she was a piece of rubbish to be discarded.” There was always a connection between the maker and their progeny, sure. But for Graham, there was no connection to someone so cruel - and if given the chance, he wouldn’t show any remorse for someone who hurt what he loved. But anyway. “You’re not supposed to fall in love with your mentee,” he snorted. “I don’t think vampires are meant for such things anyway.” --- “I think even for the immortal, it’d be impossible to see everything,” Kenna mused. She looked up to the sky and watched how the stars blinked and were hidden then revealed as the wind moved the thick needles of the pines. “Everything is constantly changing now. It’s almost like this world is paced too fast for any one person to actually keep up.” It was something being born as part of this ‘generation z’ that struck her. While those born in her generation would fade into the old and become as behind as their parents, and parents before them, McKenna would need to stay up-to-date. Her body’s expiration date matched that of whichever biome she resided in possessed. She would not see the end of her days for a while unless something drastic happened. She looked over at Graham and her eyes studied his expression in the dark. Something deep and pensive had settled over his features. She did not know the man well enough to know exactly what it was, but the way the earth reverberated in sympathy, it was something akin to pain. Despite the thoughts of her being overly energetic and immature, Kenna had a grasp on when to stay silent and listen. This was one of those times. Her eyes were soft as they watched him talk. Work through whatever it was that had plagued his mind and required this walk through the clear night. As he did, she pushed out the naturally calming aura her dryad nature gave. The gentle heather scent permeating the air to at least put a balm on the old wound. Hardly anything she could fix. Anything, perhaps, anyone could fix. But the empathy she felt made it impossible to resist. She listened to the forest around them. To the creaks his ears heard, the pleas to keep opening up fell to hers. The girl sat still, not perfectly, but enough to not distract his thoughts. She was young. Kenna knew she had never been in love. She had her crushes, yes, over the years. All were fleeting and more based on a small attraction to things such as a brilliant mind or artistic prowess. The girl had yet to feel that pull toward someone so strong that their presence could influence her mind and heart. There was no understanding for the loneliness that came with the hollow sensation of never being able to feel that strongly again. Or the possible confusion, fear, and intrigue of finding it again. As he spoke, though, her lips quirked upward a hair as she felt relief that he might have found something to fill even part of the whole his maker left. Something to someday outweigh that betrayal. His final statement caused it to melt away, however. The coldness of that reality in his mind as abrupt and icy as the winter air around them. Kenna shivered and pulled her legs to her chest and hugged around her knees. She perched her chin on her knees for a moment before leaning her cheek against them to watch him carefully. “I think everyone deserves a chance to be happy,” she told him. Even in her hushed tone, her words were resolute. The difference between living and existing, in her mind, was an active pursuit of happiness. -- She was very astute, actually. Because for Graham, living (an ironic thought, when you considered how undead he was) actually taking a page from that whole ‘book of life’ idea was what he’d been attempting to do. That was why he felt the way he did about Lenore, because she seemed to do that effortlessly - and had helped him learn how, too. “Should I tell her?” he asked, curiosity wrapped up there in those accented words. He’d never mentioned how he felt, not to anyone - it was a secret he kept buried, much like everything else swirling in his head and the icy chambers of his heart. Being from the Victorian era, that was second nature to him. One lesson he’d picked up, anyway, from dear old father. -- Kenna watched him and thought hard about his question. She was not someone who had experience in this sort of thing. She had never dated. She was admittedly terrible at flirting. Really, her love of human interaction and people sort of clouded any actual perception on how to actually be a person. Feeling was never difficult for her. Speaking how she felt, even if curbed at times do to the fear of what could be said out of rage or anger poisoning the well of friendship with something not truly ment, was second nature. For her, there was no good that came from hiding true intentions. While sometimes it would hurt less for someone to not be honest, it was perhaps better to not lie. At least in her mind. The girl looked down at the pleats in her jean legs as they folded into her boots and adjusted them for a moment. The idle movement helping her mind pick through the options. After a moment of silence, Kenna’s green eyes flicked up to Graham and she sighed out of her nose. “If there is nothing keeping you from wanting to be with her, what is holding you back?” There was nothing but genuine interest in her voice. If there was something that was keeping him from telling whomever he meant, then Kenna would say to trust his judgement. He, after all, was the one who knew the situation first hand. His insight was worth more than her third-party advice. “I just don’t see the point in hiding things from people. Withholding information is no different than lying when you see the moral high horse is a pile of manure.” -- Graham laughed a little at that piece of wisdom - not because he found it ludicrous, but because it was one of those pieces of advice that used humour to convey how utterly true it was. Because he really couldn’t argue. “I think you’re right,” he concurred. His whole life had been about hiding how he felt, stuffing it all into a perfect little box and locking all those complicated emotions inside. But dear Kenna was correct - there really wasn’t a point to it. What were all those people, the ones who deliberately hid things, afraid of anyway? The conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, but he honestly didn’t mind at all. “Well - “ He exhaled a cold, chilly breath, “I ought to get going, but thank you. For listening.” So few could do such a thing - they thought they could, but were really just waiting for their turn to talk. Rubbish. “I might get a coffee or something before work, do you want to join me?” -- At first, the laugh made her freeze. It was not unusual that people thought what she said was foolish. It was, actually, the norm. However, when he told her she was right, her eyes glowed and she smiled sheepishly. She went back to fiddling with the denim folded into her boot with the grin pulling. It was nice to hear someone who seemed so different from her in so many ways could see why she felt that way. And could actually agree with her sentiment. It was nice. A brief silence fell between them. And he was not surprised when Graham mentioned having to leave. They had been there for a while now that she thought about it. When he thanked her, Kenna looked back up with a surprised smile on her face. She blinked a few timed. “Any time, Graham. I mean it.” She let her earnesty show in that expression. She enjoyed being there for people. Everyone needed someone at some time. No one really could tell if someone needed to talk or a shoulder. And she would never turn someone away when they had something on their mind. The girl was about to get back to listening to the forest when Graham asked if she wanted to join him for coffee. After a moment, she smiled brightly up at him and nodded. “I’d like that,” she replied. McKenna slid off the rock and to the ground. It took her a moment to shake off the sleeping bag before she rolled it up and tucked it into her bag. She bade farewell with her finger running loving over a few hardy lichen that gathered by where she sat. Then, the girl turned and gave another smile. “The forest likes you, by the way. And we promise to keep everything hush, hush for you.” |