An Unexpected Visitor Who:Maeve Wulfric Where: The Pearl When: Autumn 9:44 Summary: Maeve is visited by an old friend. Rating:should be fine for all
She could feel it already, the warmth in her torso and cheeks. Maeve smiled as she tipped back her glass. Drinking came as naturally to her as lovemaking. Surveying the tables full of people, she watched as humans and elves alike took solace in the rosy atmosphere of The Pearl, escaping whatever skeletons they had in their closets, just like she was. Her eyes came to rest on a young elf girl in the corner. She reminded Maeve of herself just a few short years ago; quiet, shy, demure. Just as Maeve began to wax nostalgic she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“There’s someone waiting for you.”
“No rest for the weary,” she half-laughed to herself as she poured the remainder of her drink down her throat. “Not that I ever get weary.”
Making her way to the specified room, she wondered if one of her regulars was back. She hadn’t noticed any of them in the tavern, but she wasn’t exactly in a state of perfect sobriety, so she wouldn’t put it past herself to have overlooked someone. Maeve stumbled a little in the dim hallway, giggling as she righted herself just before the door she was about to open. She ran her hand through her hair, pinched her cheeks, and made sure her lips were nice and pouty. It was her job to look good, and Maeve never failed.
She became distracted with the candlelight dancing on her skin as she put her hand up to the thick wooden door. This was why Maeve loved alcohol. It never ceased to make the mundane amusing and the ordinary beautiful; every sound, every movement, every flash of light enhanced.
“Ready or not,” she said to herself as she pushed open the heavy door. A man in a cloak sat on the bed, his back to her. The green coverlet shifted as he turned toward her. His face was shaded by his hood, she could only she his mouth. Pink tinged lips against sun kissed skin. Whoever he was, his mouth was familiar. It looked almost . . . comforting. Maeve drew in her breath, her mind clouded from drink as she tried to remember where she knew this man from.
But she was getting ahead of herself. She had a customer, a customer who had yet to remove his hood. She wished silently to herself that it wasn’t the malformed guy that always cried after climaxing.
“What can I interest you in this evening friend?” she asked as she padded her way toward the bed.
His mouth raised in a half smile. “You sound just like I remember,” he said.
Maeve stopped dead in her tracks. She knew that voice. She knew that wry half smile. This was the mouth that had kissed her goodnight. This was the voice that had told her stories by the fire. This was the man who had taken her in and raised her after her adoptive fathers had been taken into slavery.
“Timothyos!” Maeve jumped into his arms. “Where have you been?! I looked for you. You disappeared. Where did you go?” Maeve was full of questions. After Timothyos had left the Ailenage two years ago, she had searched for him, but as he had few belongings and even fewer friends, she had not been able to locate him.
Timothyos let go of Meave. Stepping back, he removed his cloak and laid it on the small dresser behind him. His once black hair had traces of silver in it. The laugh lines and creases in his forehead had deepened. He looked older.
“I had to leave,” was all he said.
“Leave where? Why? What happened?”
Letting out a long slow breath he looked at the ground growing a sudden interest in the floorboards.
“I had to get away from here. This place. I had to get away from you Maeve.”
Shocked, Maeve sat down on the bed. What could she say to that? What had she done? She knew that he hadn’t approved of her career choice, but that was hardly a reason for him to leave the Alienage.
“Me? What did I do?” she asked as she looked up at him.
“Nothing. That’s just it. It wasn’t you I was running away from Maeve, it was me.” Timothyos sat beside her, taking her hands in his, delicately turning them over his thumbs rubbing over the backs of her hands. This didn’t feel right. Maeve started to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t just the drink disagreeing with her.
“I thought that if I went away, I could forget. I thought that the distance would make the memories fade into quiet sepia tones and that they would fall away. But it didn’t matter how far I went or who I was with or where I slept, I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
“What do you mean?” Maeve asked incredulously, taking her hands back.
“I-I. I. . .” Timothyos looked up. Staring into Maeve’s eyes, his voice steadied. “I mean I love you.”
The sick feeling in Maeve’s stomach was growing.
“I love you too, what’s the problem?” she asked, trying to keep things casual.
“No, Maeve, you don’t understand. I am in love with you. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. You are my heart and soul. You make every breath worth taking. The way you dance, and sing. The way you twirl your hair around your finger when you’re thinking. The way you hold a bow, so steady and assured of yourself. All of it. I love all of it. I love you more than words and music. I love you more than anything.”
Maeve stood up and walked over to the basin of water and mirror. All the blood had drained from her face. She wasn’t prepared for this. She wasn’t drunk enough for this. Nothing about the situation she was in was right. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.” Maeve’s voice faltered as she turned back toward the man that had raised her like a daughter. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me Tim, but know this; I can only see you as my friend. You’re like a father to me.”
Timothyos recoiled, as if burned by some invisible flame. His face turned ashen. “How can you be so ungrateful?” he said, venom dripping from every word. “I have put my life into you! And you casually toss me aside like any piece of unwanted food. I care for you, nourish you, and you treat me like garbage! Is that all I am to you? Garbage?” he was yelling now. Maeve’s head was starting to hurt. Quickly she went over to the small cabinet that held the liqueur reserved for night caps. She focused on her breathing as she poured herself a sizable drink.
“Oh, great, that’s just perfect. Typical Maeve, let’s just drown out our problems with drinks shall we?! Never face them head on, always got to have the bottle at your lips, eh? Maker forbid you should make any sober decisions!” Maeve downed her entire glass, filled it, and emptied it once more before turning back to Timothyos. Her cheeks were on fire, but at least the pounding in her head had subsided. Fighting back the tears that would no doubt flow freely out of her later, she took a deep breath before speaking.
“Timothyos,” she began slowly, looking him in the eyes. “If this is how you truly feel about me, then why on earth would you love such a damaged, deranged, and selfish creature? How could I possibly entice you? I think, sir, that you should leave before you cock up our relationship anymore than you already have.”
“Cock up?! Well that’s something you would know all about, isn’t it? You whore!”
“Leave, now. Or I will have somebody remove you.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said, grabbing his cloak and putting it on before he reached the door. He turned and looked at Maeve with a glare of utter disgust. “For your time,” he said callously tossing a bag at her feet. As she looked down at the coins scattered across the floor, she heard the door slam, and the receding footsteps of the angry man.
Maeve collapsed to the floor in tears. As she picked up each of the glittering coins, she thought of her childhood; growing up dancing with Timothyos, sleeping by Timothyos, loving Timothyos. As she put what must have been his life’s savings into the bag she sobbed, and knew instinctively that she would never again see the man that she’d once thought of as “Father.”