Post by Sadie on May 29, 2010 15:41:53 GMT -5
Roz mentioned to me that it might be interesting for me to write a piece from when Etoile was with Mercedes, to see what it was like for him. I took that challenge and went with it, although the result is a little . . . odd, but I hope you guys like it! It's short, too, pfff. Roz, I hope this is close to what you were talking about. ;;
Ehhh whatever. HERE WE GO.
--
Man, she's going to be so mad.
Stumbling out of his room, trying to balance on one leg while adjusting the shoe that he had slipped on and struggled with - this is why I don't wear them, pfff, it's uncomfortable - for a few moments, the boy quickly righted himself and bolted down the hallway. His watch was a few minutes fast, he knew, but that didn't change the fact that he was unforgivably, extremely late. Late enough that his girlfriend would be furious, probably pacing a little on the first deck where they'd agreed to meet. Reddened fingers hurried to button up his shirt as he ran, hoping that she wouldn't mind his disheveled look.
Forgiveness would be hard to find, though, he realized as she came into view on the other side of the deck. He could tell, even from a distance, that she was enraged. Taking precious minutes from her life, he knew, was something that was not easily forgotten. Still, he hurried to her side, his mind already conjuring excuses and an explanation that he hoped would appease her enough to grant him one of her honeydew smiles.
"Mercedes!"
His girlfriend. His blonde-haired, pink-eyed, bombshell of a girlfriend.
That's how others described her, anyway. He still hadn't figured out if "bombshell" was a compliment or not.
They hadn't been together long - or had they? Time kept flying by too fast - but everyone knew about it. The girl made it painfully obvious by dragging him everywhere with her, holding his hand tightly, flashing their sheer togetherness at everyone as though it was a status that she needed to make clear. A whirlwind, she was, flitting from one social event to the next and tugging him along like an accessory.
How did you get her? He was often asked that - gee, thanks - by her less-than-subtle admirers, who made sure that he was well-aware that they did in fact exist. There was no doubt that if he happened to break up with her, he'd be replaced in less than a day, a fact that made his insides twist a little. He couldn't answer any of them, either, because he wasn't even sure himself how exactly it happened. It was like. . . one minute he was happily single, and the next minute she was there and he was happily in a relationship, in the simple blink of an eye.
"Etoile." Her voice was thick with disapproval, and already he could feel the scorn dripping from her tone. How dare he show up this late, excuse or not. "There you are." An accusation.
"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry!" Breathless, he attempted an explanation that made her pencil-thin eyebrows arch. "Derano made me work really late last night, I didn't hear my alarm, I-"
He was cut off as her fingers curled around his shirt, tugging him down for a demanding kiss. It was a sign that she'd forgiven him, one that he struggled to enjoy. Finally releasing him, she stepped back and gave him a sweet smile, like the anger from only a few moments ago had simply. . . vanished. "Come, Etoile, we're already late."
The way she said his name. . . he'd never heard anyone say it like that before. With weight, curling happily around the edges of each syllable, caressing the sound as it parted her sculpted lips. Taking his hand tightly in her own, she led him away to wherever they'd planned to go - he could never keep track - with her usual determination.
It had taken a while to get used to her usual scenes. Filled with people, lights, places, excitement. Talking, endless talking. Her fingers still claimed his under the table, but her attention was all on the group of people that they were seated with as she treated everyone to an early lunch. That throaty, breathless voice recounted a tale from the day before, inter-spaced perfectly with her delighted laughter, and she made sure to include the part about herself, pointless though it had been in the whole story anyway.
Etoile distracted himself by talking to the male sitting next to him - I think his name is Vinnh but I can't keep up with all these people - that had come with a different girl. They had a bit in common, their conversation managed to take up a few minutes, but soon Vinnh's eyes were back on the attention-commanding blonde on Etoile's other side, who was now telling an entirely different story to her audience.
He would have liked to get a word in, but as usual, he felt like he would have nothing to contribute to the conversation. So he remained silent.
Their food thankfully came soon enough, distracting her from her new story about how a boy in another sector had cheated on his girlfriend three times and she still kept returning to him - she always loved those scandalous stories - and giving their ears a break. Her cat-like eyes came and fell on him, flashing a command at him that he'd come to recognize quickly. Feed me.
The same routine as always. His fork pierced a few bits of lettuce on her plate and he lifted them to her mouth, watching as she blushed and accepted them happily, then giggled to her friends about how charming he was. Look, he's feeding me, isn't he precious? Other times it was something else. See how he holds open the doors for me? Such a gentleman! This usually occurred right after she nudged him toward the door that he had planned on opening for her anyway.
He had learned, though, that to be with Mercedes, you had to play the part. And he thought all other couples operated this way, that there was a set of expectations that had to be fulfilled. His duties, he had simply decided, and did all that she asked.
Finally their group dispersed, and Etoile dutifully picked up her plate as well as his own and disposed of everything, before offering his arm to her so that he could lead her away.
"I haven't seen Janelle in ages, gracious! Wasn't she simply darling? I don't think blue is her color, though, certainly not that shade. It would have looked so much better on me, right?"
He knew the answer she expected. "Undoubtedly."
"And her boyfriend, wow, I thought she was going to do so much better, the poor girl was so excited to introduce him to us, I can't imagine why, what did you think of him? No, don't answer, I know you'll be too nice, he was rather bland. And he didn't even pull out her chair for her, I'm so glad that my boyfriend has more sense than that. Darling, that shirt, please get rid of it, it makes you look pasty." It was not a question.
". . . Tala got this for me for my birthday, I'd rather like to keep it." His voice was low, hopeful, and her expression softened a bit.
"I suppose you should. But don't wear it in front of my friends again, okay? Did you see Marnie's coat? She told us all it was real fur, but I really doubt it-"
And thus their conversation went on, until he had safely delivered her to her room. She wouldn't invite him to stay, or to go anywhere else with her, he knew from experience, she was strictly done with him for now. Her slender fingers curled around his neck and pulled him downward, her lips forceful and quick against his, pushing, until she decided that enough was enough, and bade him a good day, accompanied with her sweet smile, and slipped into her room.
He touched a finger to his lower lip, which was throbbing, and quickly turned away. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he would feel a bit better once he was in his own sector's area. Not, he quickly added to the thought, that he didn't like Mercedes' sector. He was lucky to have someone so involved, to have someone like that keep him as a boyfriend. Lucky. He was lucky.
. . . Right?
Ehhh whatever. HERE WE GO.
--
Man, she's going to be so mad.
Stumbling out of his room, trying to balance on one leg while adjusting the shoe that he had slipped on and struggled with - this is why I don't wear them, pfff, it's uncomfortable - for a few moments, the boy quickly righted himself and bolted down the hallway. His watch was a few minutes fast, he knew, but that didn't change the fact that he was unforgivably, extremely late. Late enough that his girlfriend would be furious, probably pacing a little on the first deck where they'd agreed to meet. Reddened fingers hurried to button up his shirt as he ran, hoping that she wouldn't mind his disheveled look.
Forgiveness would be hard to find, though, he realized as she came into view on the other side of the deck. He could tell, even from a distance, that she was enraged. Taking precious minutes from her life, he knew, was something that was not easily forgotten. Still, he hurried to her side, his mind already conjuring excuses and an explanation that he hoped would appease her enough to grant him one of her honeydew smiles.
"Mercedes!"
His girlfriend. His blonde-haired, pink-eyed, bombshell of a girlfriend.
That's how others described her, anyway. He still hadn't figured out if "bombshell" was a compliment or not.
They hadn't been together long - or had they? Time kept flying by too fast - but everyone knew about it. The girl made it painfully obvious by dragging him everywhere with her, holding his hand tightly, flashing their sheer togetherness at everyone as though it was a status that she needed to make clear. A whirlwind, she was, flitting from one social event to the next and tugging him along like an accessory.
How did you get her? He was often asked that - gee, thanks - by her less-than-subtle admirers, who made sure that he was well-aware that they did in fact exist. There was no doubt that if he happened to break up with her, he'd be replaced in less than a day, a fact that made his insides twist a little. He couldn't answer any of them, either, because he wasn't even sure himself how exactly it happened. It was like. . . one minute he was happily single, and the next minute she was there and he was happily in a relationship, in the simple blink of an eye.
"Etoile." Her voice was thick with disapproval, and already he could feel the scorn dripping from her tone. How dare he show up this late, excuse or not. "There you are." An accusation.
"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry!" Breathless, he attempted an explanation that made her pencil-thin eyebrows arch. "Derano made me work really late last night, I didn't hear my alarm, I-"
He was cut off as her fingers curled around his shirt, tugging him down for a demanding kiss. It was a sign that she'd forgiven him, one that he struggled to enjoy. Finally releasing him, she stepped back and gave him a sweet smile, like the anger from only a few moments ago had simply. . . vanished. "Come, Etoile, we're already late."
The way she said his name. . . he'd never heard anyone say it like that before. With weight, curling happily around the edges of each syllable, caressing the sound as it parted her sculpted lips. Taking his hand tightly in her own, she led him away to wherever they'd planned to go - he could never keep track - with her usual determination.
It had taken a while to get used to her usual scenes. Filled with people, lights, places, excitement. Talking, endless talking. Her fingers still claimed his under the table, but her attention was all on the group of people that they were seated with as she treated everyone to an early lunch. That throaty, breathless voice recounted a tale from the day before, inter-spaced perfectly with her delighted laughter, and she made sure to include the part about herself, pointless though it had been in the whole story anyway.
Etoile distracted himself by talking to the male sitting next to him - I think his name is Vinnh but I can't keep up with all these people - that had come with a different girl. They had a bit in common, their conversation managed to take up a few minutes, but soon Vinnh's eyes were back on the attention-commanding blonde on Etoile's other side, who was now telling an entirely different story to her audience.
He would have liked to get a word in, but as usual, he felt like he would have nothing to contribute to the conversation. So he remained silent.
Their food thankfully came soon enough, distracting her from her new story about how a boy in another sector had cheated on his girlfriend three times and she still kept returning to him - she always loved those scandalous stories - and giving their ears a break. Her cat-like eyes came and fell on him, flashing a command at him that he'd come to recognize quickly. Feed me.
The same routine as always. His fork pierced a few bits of lettuce on her plate and he lifted them to her mouth, watching as she blushed and accepted them happily, then giggled to her friends about how charming he was. Look, he's feeding me, isn't he precious? Other times it was something else. See how he holds open the doors for me? Such a gentleman! This usually occurred right after she nudged him toward the door that he had planned on opening for her anyway.
He had learned, though, that to be with Mercedes, you had to play the part. And he thought all other couples operated this way, that there was a set of expectations that had to be fulfilled. His duties, he had simply decided, and did all that she asked.
Finally their group dispersed, and Etoile dutifully picked up her plate as well as his own and disposed of everything, before offering his arm to her so that he could lead her away.
"I haven't seen Janelle in ages, gracious! Wasn't she simply darling? I don't think blue is her color, though, certainly not that shade. It would have looked so much better on me, right?"
He knew the answer she expected. "Undoubtedly."
"And her boyfriend, wow, I thought she was going to do so much better, the poor girl was so excited to introduce him to us, I can't imagine why, what did you think of him? No, don't answer, I know you'll be too nice, he was rather bland. And he didn't even pull out her chair for her, I'm so glad that my boyfriend has more sense than that. Darling, that shirt, please get rid of it, it makes you look pasty." It was not a question.
". . . Tala got this for me for my birthday, I'd rather like to keep it." His voice was low, hopeful, and her expression softened a bit.
"I suppose you should. But don't wear it in front of my friends again, okay? Did you see Marnie's coat? She told us all it was real fur, but I really doubt it-"
And thus their conversation went on, until he had safely delivered her to her room. She wouldn't invite him to stay, or to go anywhere else with her, he knew from experience, she was strictly done with him for now. Her slender fingers curled around his neck and pulled him downward, her lips forceful and quick against his, pushing, until she decided that enough was enough, and bade him a good day, accompanied with her sweet smile, and slipped into her room.
He touched a finger to his lower lip, which was throbbing, and quickly turned away. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he would feel a bit better once he was in his own sector's area. Not, he quickly added to the thought, that he didn't like Mercedes' sector. He was lucky to have someone so involved, to have someone like that keep him as a boyfriend. Lucky. He was lucky.
. . . Right?
