[The devil] Silence.
It always starts with silence.
First and foremost. There is silence, and it is interrupted by a knock on the door. Something quiet and something insistent. It was much softer than it had any right to be, but there it was. At one in the morning. When Maija should, by all rights, be at home. And comfortable. There is no outside interference. just knocking, quiet and insistent.
[Maija] She is at home, and comfortable. Curled up on the couch, her legs covered by a soft blanket, a glass of iced tea by her side on the floor. In the silence of the apartment, even the soft knock sounds loud – especially when there should not be anyone there without her having buzzed them in first. Except, perhaps, the landlord.
She stares down the hallway for a long moment, before she stands, her feet making no sound on the hardwood floor as she moves. She slips her hand under the cushion, grabs her switchblade and flicks it open, before heading down the hall to the door. She doesn’t unlock it, but instead looks out the peephole. “Yeah?”
[The devil] (and we pause! BONZAI!)
[Maija] (*L* we don’t need to pause!)
to The devil
[The devil] He was a handsome creature. He looked at the peep hole and let his hands rest in front of him. The posture was straight, his bearing was regal. The young man was a sandy blonde, with eyes that were more poison than peridot. He wore a suit with calm and collected something. His eyes went over the door and the young-ish man was content to wait. The landlord let him in. It seemed… who knew why he did what he did. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.
“Are you Maija?” he asked. The voice, or rather, the speech patterns were familiar. Something that rang true of the south. Louisiana and nowhere else. Pure and unadulterated something. He didn’t falter, he was just the epitome of calm.
And familiar. Strangely familiar.
[Maija] It’s the eyes. It’s the eyes that get her before the voice. It sets off something inside her, and her breath catches. There’s only been one man with eyes like that she’s ever known, a man she misses still, every single day. Her fingers tighten around the blade in her hand, and she leans her forehead against the door, closing her eyes.
“Yeah…”
She admits to being Maija, but she doesn’t open the door right away. She’s cautious. Very much so. She’s seen too much, knows too much… “Who’re you?”
[The devil] There was something strange about him. there was something that was so similar that it hurt; they looked alike. They looked a lot alike.
“I’m here to talk to you about my brother,” he said. He faltered. “I’m worried.”
He shouldn’t have faltered. How dare he falter! Something about him sets something off within her, and it’s obvious that there is, infact, something different about Grant. He’s stronger than Will, he’s so clearly, obviously trueborn that it hurts. It aches. It burns something fierce.
There is something about Grant D’Aubigne that is human. More human than he had any right to be.
[Maija] She can feel it, the rage, the force of the blood that runs true. William talked about him, said that bred true, and that he idolized him. He told her, also, that he had ‘fallen’ but that he’d always support him, always.
…but none of that matters when he says he’s worried about Will. It tugs at her, and slowly, even without thinking about it (she knows he’s bad, knows it. That’s what they said, but Will.. Will said they were wrong…) she starts to unlock the door. All four locks, one after the other.
She opens the door, and looks at him. She’s thin, painfully so, despite the fact her diet now is better and more stable than ever – but dressed in boxers and a tank top, it’s easy to see how small she really is. 5’6″ in stocking feet, she has to look up to meet his gaze, which she does, but only briefly.
But she admits, softly to her fear. “Me too.”
[The devil] “Miss Maija, I daresay you should eat more,” and that is the first thing that Grant Toussaint Morreau D’Aubigne said to Maija. The first thing that he could have ever said to her, but he doesn’t falter. He doesn’t seem as awful as stories could make him.
It’s easy to see why Will would idolize him.
There is silence and he steps in soon thereafter. He doesn’t seem to radiate the sort of awful beast that so many play him up to be. He doesn’t seem to be a lot of things, and yet he continues on.
“When did you last hear from him?”
[Maija] She snorts. “I eat all the time.” There’s a brief expression that chases across her face, than fades away to obscurity easily enough – amusement, or perhaps ‘maybe i have a tapeworm’ – it’s gone too fast to tell. She is a girl who wears masks, who hides behind careful schooling of her features. She is not one to let people in, to let them see the real her.
She had let Will in.
She closes the door behind him once he steps in, and leads the way down the hall to the living room. It should be noted she has not closed her knife, and it’s still in hand. She also doesn’t relock the door in case a fast getaway is needed. Yet with all that, she still leads the man [monster] into her living room. She wouldn’t be able to say why if she were asked.
The apartment is simple – it came furnished and what’s there is old and worn. All but the bookshelves that overtake a whole wall. Those are new, handmade, and sturdy enough to hold the books upon books upon books that rest on the shelves. She’d rescued (stolen) all she could possibly carry when she left, and it’s all there – but for the box or two that reside in her bedroom. On the back of the couch where she was sitting are two books, with the places marked in them. One is something fluffy called The girl with the dragon tattoo – the other? The works and wisdom of Socrates.
She is a complex individual.
“Shortly after I got outta th’ hospital a few months ago. He just… ain’t come home one night.”
[The devil] He is silent. He stands stark and with purpose, and his eyes are focused on the books. All of them, so many titles and some worn, some aren’t even in English.
His attention wanders. His attention wanders a lot, to be completely honest. To ask Grant to focus was to ask something truly terrible of him. His hands go to on ein particular, one of the French titles, and he pulls it off the shelf. He smiles slightly and finds himself thumbing through the pages.
“So, did he talk you into Socrates or did you do that of your own free will? If it’s the latter I daresay you’re as mad as we are.”
[Maija] He reaches for one of the books, and she almost reaches to stop him, to tell him no – they’re not his they belong to Will and she…
…stops herself. Will was never as possessive over his books as she is about them now, and this is his brother. So she stands, uneasily, before she sinks to sit on the edge of the couch and watch him, warily. (…hopefully…)
“I like t’read. A friend a’mine…” it sounds weird saying it like that, as she and Imogen are acquaintances at best “…let me borrow it. I’ve read most a them that I can now. Ain’t able t’read the ones what ain’t English, a course, but I’m gonna learn so’s I can.”
She just might be mad… “though I ain’t think it makes me crazy. Jus.. curious.”
[The devil] “Start with Latin… or Russian. He couldn’t speak Russian, either,” he said as he thumbed through one of the books. His eyes were on it for now, and the young man seemed content to take one of the pages between his fingers. He turns, and soon enough there’s… a note. Something interesting. Instead, his attention falls on what is between the pages rather than on them.
“And there’s a good thing in that…The curious are the ones who get things done, Maija,” he says with a smile. Damn, such a smooth operator.
“I haven’t heard anything about him in months… it seems you were close.”
[Maija] “That was her suggestion too. She’s gonna lend me some books t’help learn Latin, actually.” He says the curious are the ones that get things done, and she lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug. “or get dead.”
She ain’t so smooth. Or optimistic. She watches him, closely. He’s found something in the book in his hand, and she stands, and dares move closer to see, fingers itching to snatch it away from him… how could she have missed a note?
They were close. Not close enough for him to stay, nor close enough for him to say goodbye. There’s a flash of pain in her eyes, before she turns them down, away to hide it. “I guess.”
[The devil] He looked at her, and there was an expression of quiet empathy. Maija was in pain, and on a certain level this calm, confident Galliard was concerned for her. Or, possibly, he saw an opportunity. Who knew, something about him made the wyrm seem.
… like a good idea. Wouldn’t it be nice to be on a side of the war that was winning?
“You guess?”
[Maija] She swallows, hard, and finally sets her blade down on top of the TV. It’s still open, still ready, but she allows herself to put it down. H’s talking about book, and Will. He’s looking at her like he understands, like he’s really worried about his brother, her Will.
She drags her fingers through her hair, briefly letting him get a full view of her face, the sharp features, her eyes that are so dark they seem to have swallowed the nighttime sky. Her hair slides free, and softens her features a touch, as she automatically ducks her head to hide behind the dishwater blond length. “I.. thought so. But he ain’t say.. I mean, he jus… left.”
She won’t believe it was because he’s in trouble. She won’t. That would be as much as admitting he might be dead.
[The devil] But he was a messenger of something awful. he was a charming creature, so he could bring such news with terrible and wicked intentions, but bring it with a smile. THey had the same eyes, the same smile, the same drawl- the only differences were their hair color and obvious allegiances.
He did not discount the idea that he may be dead. As a matter of fact, he seems to bring it up. Unintentional, innocent enough, “… do you think something happened to him? It’s not like him to leave without a word.”
He looks at her, head cocked tot he side, and his attention wanders. he can’t focus long enough to look at her. The room was just too interesting
[Maija] She winces. It’s an expression that sticks around longer than others, even in its brevity. She grabs her blanket off the couch, suddenly chilled – more so than she is all the time. She pulls it around her shoulders, wrapping it around herself as if it could provide a barrier of protection, keeping her from feeling the stab of pain his words brought on.
“I dunno. I hope not. He left things I ain’t think he’d leave if it was just he was escapin me.”
And therein lies the second fear – not only might he be dead, but he might have simply wanted to get away from the thin gnawer girl who’d invaded his life.
[The devil] “I don’t think he’d run from you, Maija, his attention span is infinitely longer than mine,” he says. Half a joke. Half the truth. Grant D’Aubigne did not have the longest attention span, or the strongest one at that. He smiled a little, and it was something that came easily.
Then? He does something unexpected. He reaches out, he gives her shoulder a pat, but he doesn’t do much else. He regards Maija and nods with solemn understanding.
“If I find anything out about him, I will be sure to inform you, Miss Maija.”
[Maija] “I don’t see why he’d stay.”
It’s admitted, softly, before she can bite it back. He pats her shoulder, and she freezes under the touch. He doesn’t do much else, and looks at her with understanding, despite the fact that she obviously reacts oddly to the effort. Something in him terrifies her, though it’s not quite so bad as if he were female – not that he’d know that. As charming as he is, she is just…
..terrified. But holding her own. So far.
“Ya ain’t gotta keep callin me miss. S’jus’ Maija. An’ thanks for that.” The not knowing is the worst, the not sleeping because of not knowing is awful. She’d finally started to relax, to simply accept she’d never know – now this. And he’s frighteningly understanding. That can’t be good.
[The devil] He looks, and he is frighteningly understanding. It isn’t okay, it isn’t right. The young man rolls up his sleeves, and like any other garou he has scars. There are slashes, there are defense wounds. There are things that will fade in a matter of days, hours even, and things that will linger for a lifetime.
There are marks, and there always would be with garou.
“Well, Maija, I hate to cut this meeting short but…. may I ask a favor of you?”
He pauses.
“Will had a copy of The Republic… do you mind… if.. if I borrowed it? It would mean the world to me.”
[Maija] He doesn’t dispute the fact that there would be no reason for him to stay. She didn’t expect him too, either, but that’s neither here nor there. Somehow it still strikes a chord, a painful reminder of what she isn’t, rather than what she was. He rolls up his sleeves, and she takes a step backwards.
There are scars. Many of her’s are unseen, though they show in each defensive action, each time she flinches away, every time she falls completely still and silent, terrified. He mentions the copy of The Republic and it’s clear she knows exactly which copy he’s speaking of. Will had shown it to her, as well as the picture and letters hidden between it’s pages.
He’d probably be shocked to know she’s never read them. She didn’t snoop, even now, even when she has everything he’d shown was important to him right here in the apartment. That said, it doesn’t mean those letters and picture still reside between the pages of the book. They don’t.
She says nothing about that though, just automatically points. “Top shelf, on the right, 5th from the end.”
[The devil] He nods, and goes to the top shelf. Fifth from the end. Grant doesn’t bother to look in it, he just reaches up and takes the book. there’s a quiet smile on his face, something filled with a fond memory. A soft recognition. The Republic. He doesn’t look through the pages, and he doesn’t paw through his brothers things like he had with the book in French.
“I… I really appreciate this, Maija, thank you,” he tells her.
The young man starts to make his way tot he door. Prize in hand, he looks back and curiosity gets the better of him.
“Did he ever tell you about Claire?”
[Maija] Even if he pawed through the pages, there would be nothing to find. Those things have been moved. She too often had Wahya doing interesting things with and around her belongings, and would not risk anything that was so important to Will. It’s simply not her way.
But she doesn’t tell Grant that. For all she knows he just remembers the book. Nothing more, nothing less. How could he know, after all?
He starts back toward the door, and she follows, at a distance. Did he ever tell her about Claire… “Yes.” a beat, and then softly, painfully. “I figure if he done left me, it was cuz she wanted him too.” it’s the only logical reason she could come up with, after all. She knew he still loved Claire – forbidden or not. Its not as if she would be any more acceptable as a match, anyway.
[The devil] “”if I find anything out, I’ll let you know,” he assures her. And it was strange because his demeanor was so confident. His loss was palpable. This was his brother, his companion. When people grow up, they cling to those they have near. And he couldn’t help but feel loss.
Noble hearts beat common blood. Loss is the plight of all.
“Claire was solid garou… but I sincerely doubt she’s still alive, thank you.”
A pause.
“It was nice meeting you, Maija.”
[Maija] “Thanks.” she says softly, and pulls her blanket tighter around herself. She doesn’t quite look up at him, doesn’t meet his gaze. Submissive even now, under the press of rage she doesn’t know, and shouldn’t want to know. He’s the bad guy in all the stories – but for Wills. It’s her feelings for Will that seems to be trumping all other things, right now, her desire to know what happened, what will happen, and where he is.
He says he doubts Clair is still alive, and somehow that doesn’t exactly make it better. She doesn’t mention it though, as she nods. “Yeah. You too.”
[The devil] (*hugs!* thanks Lessa! I had a blast!)