awildthing (awildthing) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-09-29 16:58:00 |
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Graham felt guilty, and not just because he’d had a difficult conversation with Buffy about their relationship. He’d probably hurt her, and that was bad enough, but he’d also been faced with some uncomfortable questions about himself. He could care for people. He felt affection and fondness, but had he ever really been in love? Could he even love? He wasn’t close to his parents. He’d never had a girlfriend about whom he was serious. Friendships and his wolves, that was it. He wasn’t even sure if he was in love in his dreams. It was becoming clear to him that he’d had feelings for this "Emma," but was she correct in her presumption that he’d gone after her simply because she was an alternative to an even more toxic relationship? He didn’t like the questions he was asking himself. He didn’t like considering the fact that the ‘missing heart’ dreams might be a metaphor for real-world emotional numbness. But it needed to be done, and he needed to talk about it with someone. Bethany would understand; she had dreams of her own, and magic, and nothing he could say to her would sound as mad as it would to other people. So? He picked up the telephone and dialed. Bethany had just gotten home when her phone rang. She looked at it, and wondered if it was yet another wrong number. But she answered it anyway, "Hello, Avon calling?" “Is that your way of telling me that I need skin-care help?” Graham joked. “I’m sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?” "Oh! Graham, hello! No it's not a bad time at all, I just got home. I was afraid you were another lewd phone call." She smiled, even though he couldn't see her, "Do you need to talk?" “If you wouldn’t mind? I’ll try not to be maudlin. Gloomy calls are almost as bad as the inappropriate ones - at least you can have a laugh at the bad pick-up lines.” Not that Graham had the fortune of bad pick-up lines. All of his misdials had been people looking for friends, or attempting to order takeout. (That one poor fellow might still have been waiting on his pizza. Graham felt no guilt. Anyone who enjoyed pineapple and anchovies on the same pie deserved to be pranked.) "I don't know, I never get enough pickup lines, let alone bad ones," She replied. Her Bostonian accent had completely been replaced by the british sounding one from Thedas, "The best one was the guy wanting to know if Ricky was interested in a ...I'm not even going to say it aloud." She’d have to agree about pineapple and anchovies. “...it’s been an interesting week,” Graham replied. Did he notice the new accent? Yes. Did he comment? No. It felt a little like telling someone that their eyes were blue, or that they were wearing a yellow shirt. Bethany undoubtedly knew. “It’s the breakup. And the dreams. That other version of me, he doesn’t feel anything, and I’m beginning to wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something. Perhaps I’m just not capable.” "Do you feel anything?" She asked, "I mean does the break up hurt?" That seemed like a good way to gauge if there was something to worry about or not, "Why don't I come over. I'll bring you dinner, and you can weep all over me in a manly fashion." “I’ll be certain to think on what manly weeping looks like.” Like acting class when he’d been a boy - ‘how to portray ____’ 101. In spite of himself, Graham smiled down at his feet. “It does. Hurt. But while we were dating, I could have -- well, I’ll tell you once you’ve come by.” "Okay, I'll be right there." She hung up and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, before leaving a note for her sister and taking the car. Miraculously it had survived being flash frozen by her. Twenty minutes later she was pulling down the driveway onto Graham's property, and parking outside his home. The place was much the same, with an exception. One wolf was curled up in the sitting room at the front of the house - the room that doubled as the business office. It was light gray in color and had two differently-colored eyes, which drifted open briefly as Graham went to the door to greet his guest. Then it was straight back to sleep; whoever the strange new creature was, it was clearly not an ordinary animal. For one, as much as Graham loved his canine friends, he’d never have let them roam free. He was fond of animals, not reckless. “That’s Wolf,” Graham explained as he led the way back to the kitchen. “From the dreams; he turned up on my back stoop one morning. Seemed rude to give him a name when he might already have one of his own. He’s very smart, but he’s had a long day.” Bethy found the wolf fascinating, and wondered..but her question was soon answered, "Nice to meet you, Wolf." She waved at the animal, then followed Graham back to the kitchen. Then she made HIM sit down while she prepared some tea! Blink. Blink blink. Graham was a little unused to being served tea, but he knew better than to fuss at a determined woman. “I wouldn’t mind--” he began, but if Bethany wanted to make tea, he’d let her. “Thank you for coming over,” Graham managed. “I feel ridiculous, carrying on like this, but.” But he was, and he couldn’t really help himself. He was the one having issues, and she thought that tea might help. He certainly shouldn't be making the tea right now. She didn't even know if he liked tea, but she placed a mug in front of him and sat down opposite. She looked at him with concern in her eyes, "You're welcome." Graham liked tea. He would drink this cup, but the mug also served as something to hold on to so that he wouldn’t fiddle with pencils or the scraps of newspaper that sat in the center of his kitchen table. “I thought I’d largely accepted all of this. I’ve had dreams, they’re strange, but they haven’t changed how I’ve wanted to live my life. I believe in them, but I’m not living them.” Except. The pause clearly said ‘except.’ “I’ve had some new ones, and there are parallels. I’d say that I don’t believe in curses, because it sounds completely preposterous... but I think I believe in curses.” Except, Bethy thought. There was more coming and she hoped he'd tell her. She leaned forward and nodded her head, "You believe you're really cursed? Perhaps it's magic? Like what I do. Maybe I can break it?" She shook her head, "Uhm, keep going." “In the dreams I believe very much that I’m cursed. It’s a long story, but in my dreams I believe that I’ve had other lives and that I don’t remember them because of magic. My heart is gone and I don’t think I find it. It’s some sort of -- punishment, I suppose?” Because he had crossed someone with far more power than he. Graham tried to play nonchalant by shrugging his shoulders, but his face was too serious for that. “I don’t know,” Graham said, raking his hand down over his face. “Perhaps I haven’t been dating the right women. Perhaps I’m cursed. I don’t know.” Bethany wondered if the curse that was in her blood could help, somehow. Maybe it could, maybe it couldn't, but she would be willing to try, if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe she could find it. "I'm cursed, but that doesn't mean it can't be a good thing, if you look at it right." She reached across the table to take his hand, "I can't speak to dating, my luck has been pretty bad too, but I know the right person is out there for you." Part of her wanted it to be her, but that was neither here nor there, and likely a product of how they'd met, and her own hurts from Robb. “Will you tell me if I’m distant? If you notice--” If she noticed what, precisely? Graham didn’t know. Magic curses didn’t come with tell-tale symptoms, did they? They weren’t like a stomach bug or swine flu. “...I feel preposterous. Just prod me if you notice any bad decisions. One cursed person to another.” "Okay. I reserve the right to tell you what's a bad decision while I nose into your life," Bethany replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "For what it's worth I think you still have a heart. You wouldn't care this much otherwise. Maybe it's just...dulled." “Nose into my life. As if I didn’t just invite you over,” Graham joked. He hoped that it made his gratitude less obvious, but there was a bit too much hope behind the smile. “I can work with dulled. I can come back from that.” He hoped. "I can tell you from personal experience you can come back from almost anything, if you put your mind to it! And your heart." That was Bethy, all optimism and smiles! Bethany grimaced, just a little bit, "Listen to me, I sound like a bloody self-help booklet." “It could be a side-enterprise. You could self-help blog on the Internet.” ...alright. And now that he was feeling better about life in general, Graham could ask some of the questions that had been waiting. “...so you’re cursed? And, ah...” He trailed off, squinting as he tried to place the precise location of the accent. Strange thing was, it didn’t sound like any part of the UK or Ireland that he recognized. “English?” That was nice and general. "Me and a hundred thousand others, you mean?" Bethany laughed, lifting her hand like she was describing a sign, "Sunshine Self Help, or how to look on the bright side of life!" She dropped her hand, and chewed on her lower lip, "In a way yes. And..sort of in a way. This is how we talked in my dreams. The land was called Ferelden. You know the weirdest thing? Dwarves sounded American." Good going Bethy, dodging talking about the Taint! “I was the only Irishman in Maine.” Graham said, scrunching up his face. “I don’t understand that. If I can be out-of-place, so can the dwarves.” It was easier to take the weird dream stuff in stride. It didn’t make sense, but it was, and Graham just accepted it all. “So this place - Ferelden. Nice? Not really? From what I’ve seen on Valarnet, mine are reasonably tame; all fairy tale.” "I'm sure there are a lot of Irishmen in Maine, just like you'll find a Dutch woman somewhere in California," She replied, grinning. "Fairy tales can be pretty gruesome. Some of the originals would rival fighting a Darkspawn I'd wager. The old witch in Hansel and Gretal was probably a blood mage." “The queen wasn’t pleasant,” Graham agreed. “But that’s a story for another time. What’s a blood mage?” "A mage, like me. But instead of relying on the natural magics, or the spirit sources, they use life blood to power their spells. They slice themselves up, or others. They use the power of demons. It's incredibly powerful." She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, "A lot of them start out with good intentions. Or they're just afraid. They don't want to die, or be captured, so they turn to it. But demons are clever and manipulative. It always ends badly." “That sounds uncomfortably like some of my dreams - people who want something so badly that they’re willing to do horrible things to have it.” No demons, but apparently people were always people. Graham scratched at the bridge of his nose. “In my dreams, they tend to get their way. Things end badly for the people who cross them, but I don’t think I’m to the end of the story. How about you?” "Most of the blood mages we met crossed my sister the wrong way," Bethany replied, darkly. "Lets just say it ended badly for them. It always ended badly. But not before innocents suffered. Mages in general are feared and mistrusted. Blood mages are hated. But there are plenty of normal people who are corrupt and evil, and get their way. And there are more important things to fight, but they make us fight each other anyway." “Also unpleasantly familiar - not from the dreams, but in general. There are always better things to fight.” And perhaps that was his problem; he didn’t really know where to focus his energy. Graham had no real passions beyond animal rights, and even that-- “Odd change of topic, but here. In Orange County. Is there anything you really feel strongly about? I don’t mean things you enjoy - I enjoy ale and darts, but if I woke up tomorrow and could have neither, I’d be fine.” "My family. That puppy you got me. You. My friends." She shook her head, "People mostly. It's not the things. It's never the things. I was so angry when my sister let me become a warden. Because I'd be taken away from her, and Isabela and mother and all our friends." “You’re lucky to have a close family. I’m glad that you have them - I’ve Wolf and a handful of people an ocean away. Which is not a complaint - I chose to move - but an observation. From what you’ve said, you seem very close.” Maybe Graham had a little envy. Who wouldn’t? "I adore them," Bethany admitted. "I've always looked up to Garrett and Marian. They're so different too, in a lot of ways. But also a lot more alike than they probably want to admit." “I was close to my grandmother as a child. It’s not the same, but if I had a hero, she’d have been the one.” Graham lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have siblings. I’d have given them a hard time, of course.” Because hey, that was what siblings were for, right? "Grandmothers can be heroes," Bethany said, agreeing. "Mothers too. Especially my mother." She missed Leandra, more every day. Even as the hurt lessened. "You better have!" “If they’re not bothered by animals, perhaps I’ll have a cookout in the front before it becomes too cold. The whole of your family can come. As long as I’m not expected to make anything fancy, I can cook.” Decently. Well enough to stay fed, for certain, and that was all Graham needed. If he wanted ‘fancy,’ he could always go out. "They'll love that!" Bethany's face broke into yet another grin, "And they love animals, that won't be a problem. It doesn't need to be fancy. Just had to have been mooing at some point." “Choose your weekend. I’m working a lot of long hours during the week, but by some miracle I have Saturdays free until November.” Maybe this would be good. Graham would grill some meat and make the acquaintance of Bethany’s family. "How about a week from tomorrow?" Bethany stated. She thought her siblings might taunt her mercilessly somehow. Maybe she should warn Graham, but that wouldn't be any fun at all. “A week from tomorrow would be perfect. It will give me time to buy the food.” And the beer, because it was necessary for any of Graham’s cookouts. Went hand-in-hand, really. “I’ll send out a real invitation by Valarnet in the morning.” "That sounds beautiful." The beer would be necessary. Because it's beer. And they're Hawkes. Bethany's eyes flashed a swirling grey for a second. She was worried about him. About his heart, "It will be fun, Graham." |