Elizabeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tearmeanewone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-04-27 12:12 pm
tearmeanewone) wrote in undergrounds2016-04-27 12:12 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] Baby's Got Blue Eyes
Who: Elizabeth DeWitt & You
What: Canceling a vacation sucks. It's worse when you're Elizabeth.
When: Late April
Where: Various
Warnings: None so far!
Yes, she probably should have expected that this was how it would pan out. Namely, that it wouldn't pan out at all.
Illya had at least called to say he was going away and that she could go to Paris with somebody else, but halfway through the explanation Elizabeth had just hung up. She'd talked to him about how she felt used, how much it hurt, and here she was again. The provider of wolfsbane, promised a trip to Paris and then... he left before it was safe to go. Convenient, it felt so convenient to her, and typical. When hadn't this happened with her? Did she have any friends, really?
[A - Circle Daybreak]
Work is an obvious distraction. Elizabeth has been feeling her abilities getting stronger as of late, and so she spends almost all of her free time from classes at the Circle studying and working with her mentors there. When she's not reading, she's practicing, and her feelings are once again seeping into her magic. It's like she's in Columbia again, and her tenuous control is, again, slipping.
She's carefully laying frost over the surface of delicate flowers one afternoon, and it looks as though she's doing a passable job until her phone buzzes in her bag. For a moment she imagines it's someone needing another free favor, and her anger spikes. The ice instantly thickens and spikes, and Elizabeth shouts in teeth-clenched frustration. She discards the attempt with the rest of the melting, twisted ice-sculptures with flowers inside, and pulls over another one to start over.
[B - Groceries]
Usually Elizabeth likes cooking, and her weekly haul consists mostly of vegetables and meat and rice or pasta to make something healthy and delicious for the week. Cooking sounds like too much effort now. Apparently this week, she's going to be consuming frozen pizza, two bags of chips, garlic bread, ice cream, canned soup, and a large package of beef jerky. She's trying to decide if she wants to pay the exorbitant price of a pineapple, holding it up and scrutinizing the fruit intensely.
She has no idea what makes a good pineapple, she realizes.
[C - Westminster Library]
She doesn't want to read anything, either. Nothing sounds good.
There's plenty of recent fiction on the shelf, and she scans the spines waiting for something to jump out at her. It all sounds like garbage, though. Pointless garbage. Three-hundred pages of fictional people and their problems while Elizabeth's life is actually dangerous and difficult.
She shoulders her bag and walks out of the shelving without picking out anything.
[D - Westminster Park]
Elizabeth sits there with her phone on her usual park bench, staring intently at the screen. It's got a message written on it, but she knows she's angry and she's texting angry. Part of her says she's allowed to be angry, the other says to just delete the message and move on. Nothing good will come of being angry.
She hits send anyway.
I wanted to go with you. I thought of you as my friend.
There's a pause.
900000278: Delivery has failed.
She locks the phone and tilts her head back over the back of the bench. That felt like her last way out of feeling so low, and now... she's missed her chance.
What: Canceling a vacation sucks. It's worse when you're Elizabeth.
When: Late April
Where: Various
Warnings: None so far!
Yes, she probably should have expected that this was how it would pan out. Namely, that it wouldn't pan out at all.
Illya had at least called to say he was going away and that she could go to Paris with somebody else, but halfway through the explanation Elizabeth had just hung up. She'd talked to him about how she felt used, how much it hurt, and here she was again. The provider of wolfsbane, promised a trip to Paris and then... he left before it was safe to go. Convenient, it felt so convenient to her, and typical. When hadn't this happened with her? Did she have any friends, really?
[A - Circle Daybreak]
Work is an obvious distraction. Elizabeth has been feeling her abilities getting stronger as of late, and so she spends almost all of her free time from classes at the Circle studying and working with her mentors there. When she's not reading, she's practicing, and her feelings are once again seeping into her magic. It's like she's in Columbia again, and her tenuous control is, again, slipping.
She's carefully laying frost over the surface of delicate flowers one afternoon, and it looks as though she's doing a passable job until her phone buzzes in her bag. For a moment she imagines it's someone needing another free favor, and her anger spikes. The ice instantly thickens and spikes, and Elizabeth shouts in teeth-clenched frustration. She discards the attempt with the rest of the melting, twisted ice-sculptures with flowers inside, and pulls over another one to start over.
[B - Groceries]
Usually Elizabeth likes cooking, and her weekly haul consists mostly of vegetables and meat and rice or pasta to make something healthy and delicious for the week. Cooking sounds like too much effort now. Apparently this week, she's going to be consuming frozen pizza, two bags of chips, garlic bread, ice cream, canned soup, and a large package of beef jerky. She's trying to decide if she wants to pay the exorbitant price of a pineapple, holding it up and scrutinizing the fruit intensely.
She has no idea what makes a good pineapple, she realizes.
[C - Westminster Library]
She doesn't want to read anything, either. Nothing sounds good.
There's plenty of recent fiction on the shelf, and she scans the spines waiting for something to jump out at her. It all sounds like garbage, though. Pointless garbage. Three-hundred pages of fictional people and their problems while Elizabeth's life is actually dangerous and difficult.
She shoulders her bag and walks out of the shelving without picking out anything.
[D - Westminster Park]
Elizabeth sits there with her phone on her usual park bench, staring intently at the screen. It's got a message written on it, but she knows she's angry and she's texting angry. Part of her says she's allowed to be angry, the other says to just delete the message and move on. Nothing good will come of being angry.
She hits send anyway.
I wanted to go with you. I thought of you as my friend.
There's a pause.
900000278: Delivery has failed.
She locks the phone and tilts her head back over the back of the bench. That felt like her last way out of feeling so low, and now... she's missed her chance.
D
He strolls towards her, trying his best not to be too obtrusive, to feel out the scene, although he knows he will be intruding, interrupting. And he does so anyway. "My apologies," he says, his voice soft and low, and unmistakably French as he steps around the back of the bench to peer into her face, upside-down as it appears at the moment. "I cannot help but have noticed your displeasure..." She had practically draped herself over the thing, after all. No one makes such a move when they are feeling happy, for certain.
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"Say, that's a neat trick," she says, not moving from her position and arching an eyebrow at him. "Must take a lot of practice to notice this kind of displeasure."
Well... she tried.
"...sorry. My manners went somewhere with my good mood, and they didn't even leave a note to tell me when they'd be back," she jokes, though her voice doesn't have any mirth to it as she sits up and turns around to face him properly. Her neck was starting to get a kink in it anyway.
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Something that left without leaving so much as a note, apparently. Or someone, more precisely. Jean-Claude has never been one to be unnecessarily delicate about a matter, and so it is that he does not pad his words, as he leans forward against the back of the bench and asks plainly, "A friend, or a lover?"
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"I'm sure this bench has seen plenty of heartbroken girls, I am not one of them." At least, heartbroken over a lover. She's heartbroken in a different way. "...I considered us friends, but... I did him a favor, he said he'd go on a trip with me and then he left town. And apparently disconnected his phone," she says, shrugging and holding up her phone to indicate.
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"It is never easy to discover that we have been led on by someone we care for," he responds. "Though there are worse things he could have done than disappeared in such a way. Certainly worse betrayals."
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"You're better off staying out of Paris, anyway," he says, with the quirk of a smile. "Too many French." Says the Frenchman.
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"I don't plan on 'going native' either, frankly. I don't imagine the natives would appreciate me putting on an accent in an effort to 'fit in'."
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He shoots her a sideways smirk. "Let me assure you that I have been here in this city for a long time, and I have yet to suffer from this phenomenon myself. It is either a falsehood, or I find myself immune."
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"I want to travel. Everywhere." Her faint smile falls, remembering that she'd had plans to see a new place and instead she's here-- talking to someone about her accent.
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"And you will, ma chère," he responds. "Just not with this friend you have mentioned. Do not waste your time mourning such things. You have your own life, after all. Do not let the actions of others rule it, d'accord?" He tilts his head to the side, wondering how his words might go over, but not worrying about them.