pris, benjamin and the portrait of sky ][ closed

[Guest]

pris was a tree. again. it went so well the first time that when the weekend came but dommy had to work his day job and donnie had to go to the clinic, pris chose that to do instead of getting on her buses and wandering away. she would have gone to the cemetery to talk to her statue friends, but...that didn't go so well last time. and her time at the bar after she got back from being a tree the first time, that didn't go so well either because pris had seen poof when she stared at ryan. lately it seemed time with people was just not going well. maybe that's why the girl was retreating again to trees. so she was in the eastern forest - but not near the cave - half tucked away in a boxwood bush. or leaning back into it, kind of. her knees drawn up to her chest, she was wearing the same brown pants she had been the other day, and she was barefoot like the other day, with her toenails painted green. she was wearing her leaf dress, various colors of green fabric that she'd cut out in maple leaf patterns and made a layered dress from so it really did look like a tree dress, with short sleeves. her fingernails were painted brown, and she held a black charcoal between two fingers. she had no wig today, and her hair was down and she'd teased it to make it wild, fastening leaves all through it with clips. she'd smudged her cheeks with dirt. and her arms a little too. as her charcoal moved over the page she was staring at the weeping willow a short distance away from her. she could relate to it.

When the business in the Welshlands had been complete, Benjamin had spent time wandering around various art museums. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do being that his goal was to draw a picture - a charge he was given by a young girl. For now he was choosing to humor her. It took a while but in the end he gleaned the information that he wanted and his task was completed. With that done and out of the way he went on the prowl for the earth-girl. How fitting was it, then, that when he arrived back in this land of Rhy'din that he saw her in the forest, by the trees, and looking much like a tree herself. Where was he? Why, standing in the shadows of the cave of course. That very same cave she had made a mad dash to weeks ago. Perhaps there was something special about that cave? Or maybe it was just a place he liked to appear in. Pris might not have seen him, the nearly black brown of his shirt and black denim jeans were enough to blend him into the caves shadows. Under his arm was a square package, and he held this as he started towards the girl who sat by the tree. "A tree with withered leaves." His voice came across in mellow tones as he neared. His footfalls were steady, even though he was wearing the thick boots he always seemed to have. His face was freshly shaven, and his hair was freshly cut low upon his head. "Perhaps there is a symbolic meaning here that I am missing." His manner was slightly different for it was not his goal - at the moment - to capture this... tree.

she didn't see him. she probably wouldn't see him even when he got closer. this was not the pris in the dress of lights lights lights that was so wary and uncomfortable that he poofed a taxi. he was just a person right now, and she was just...in her mood. besides, she was drawing. her gaze was fixed on the weeping willow, and the motions of her hand didn't stop on the page. with how her knees were drawn up, unless he was standing directly over her or just behind her [and behind would be hard since she was half crammed in the bush] seeing what she drew would be a challenge. his voice was mellow, hers was flat. "a wind that rose through not a leaf in any forest stirred but with itself did cold engage beyond the realm of a bird a wind that woke a lone delight like separation's swell restored in arctic confidence to the invisi-bel." it was a poem. by emily dickinson. her doctor made her memorize all of them, to have something to say when she needed to keep herself in the driver's seat. she never said the poems how they were meant to be said though, in lines and stanzas. it was always just a long string of words like just then. after she said that, she grumbled, "knew i wasn't ignorant. bitchwitch." she was referring to the fact that she'd challenged ryan to talk to the tea the girl had been trying to serve pris, and tell benjamin he owed her a sky before she'd take any tea from him. and here he was. her mind told her that meant ryan had delivered the message.

While she spoke, her moved in closer, keeping a steady pace and shifting the package. Her words were recognized as a poem, something familiar was in them, but he couldn't place it. Poetry was not really his thing and he never took to studying it, but he liked to hear it. The package he held was rectangular, 20x11, and looked very much like a frame. And it was, though it was wrapped in brown paper. What was this that she was drawing? It might have been his recent trips to the art museums as to why this was peaking his interest, or maybe it was because it was something she was doing. She didn't exactly seem to be in the best of moods and he felt those vibes coming her. When he got near, Benjamin crouched down, placing the covered frame in his lap. "You are distraught today." Stating the obvious. To her statement, he knew the answer, but he was going to pose the question to her anyway as he went to get a better look at her as she was tucked into the bush. "Who has called you ignorant, Pris?" His eyes did not stay on her face, but looked towards her drawing.

she wasn't moving, even with him getting close. she probably should, but...well, she was a teenager. she could be the worst kind of stubborn do the worst kinds of acting out when she was in a bad turn. and she was in a really bad turn, obviously. her whole body seemed to read the word 'sulk' right down to the slight forward thrust of her bottom lip. only the movements of her drawing hand weren't sulk. those were quick and seemingly sloppy, but in actually not sloppy at all. to his statement of the obvious she answered, "pain has an element of blank it cannot recollect when it began or if there were a day when it was not it has no future but itself its infinite realms contain its past enlightened to perceive new periods of pain." another poem. emily dickinson, again. she wasn't doing it to be a brat, though to many people it might seem so. the doctor had taught it to her as a way of trying to get her mind back when it started to get away from her, and that's exactly how she was using it now. her drawing was not even half done yet. she was working from the bottom up. obviously that was the bottom of the trunk. obviously that was the ground. and maybe not so obviously there was underground. and the trees roots. currently she was drawing hands. twisted long fingered ugly hands grabbing the tree by the roots and trying to pull it down. the hands belonged to arms, but the arms belonged to no one. the drawing just tapered off there. "your mean girl. wethinks. her. grandmother what big teeth you have. your teeth are all over her. little marks on her skin. when i stared. and she called me ignorant. when i accused her of it. after telling me when to sit and what to eat and what i should drink she told me what to do with my tongue and she deserves a drawing of a witch on her door, an ugly witch filled with your teeth marks so everyone knows who she really is."

Her words delighted him - what she had said about Ryan - and Benjamin even dared to laugh, though it was slight and sounded more like a rolling timber of a bass drum. "She is lovely, isn't she?" He expected her to do anything but agree. It was obvious by how she spoke of the other that the two were not of the same mind. He knew enough of the spat those two had to generate much of what had happened. He was even there, though not in the flesh. "She was me. At that particular moment. I find your anger at the situation to be quite amusing and I smiled, from where I was, as I witnessed the...conversation?" He was a man that loved to see the explosive emotions such as anger and fear. Those can be quite powerful if used in the right way and form. Benjamin was one to dig at those qualities and find was to exploit them. And sometimes, sometimes Benjamin was an honest person who told information. He didn't tell things for no reason, but what the reason was, he hardly ever told. "That is why you saw all those marks. She is mine and I can push my consciousness upon her when I feel like it. What you may have really saw, was me." Benjamin looked at Pris when he spoke to her, even if she was not looking at him. "Though you are right on one note, she does have airs." Then his eyes slid from her face to look down upon her hands and the drawing. He thought that it looked as if Mother Earth was taking back one of her gifts.

pris had yet to speak anything but in a flat tone, even when she was using harsh words. it was like the girl was deflated, and in a way she probably was. even with a skewed mind, even when her emotions were distorted and detached to the point where she didn't feel like regular people should sometimes, even pris could only take so many bad encounters before it started to get to her. and school...school was always a lonely encounter. so to have bad encounters at the cemetery and in the inn too, and so close together...the result was this mood. "she is yours," a muttered echo as her hand started to draw upward now, growing the trunk upwards on her drawing, "don't know why you'd want her. she's just like everyone else." once the outline of the trunk was laid in, her hand started on the branches. it was quite the opposite than the actual weeping willow that her eyes were staring at. the branches of the tree were stretching upwards, and instead of ending in leaves it seemed the ends of these branches had hands of their own, or something akin to them. sticking out in jagged directions in their reach as she drew them in one by one.

"She has something that I like." That was a truth, she did have something he liked, but it wasn't something he was willing to disclose. He paused and went to studying her face as he took the package from his lap. Carefully, he set it on the ground near her own current drawing. But he did not put it so close that it would be in her way or - hopefully - disturb her from her project. There was an opportunity here and, if he played his cards right, maybe it was something he would be able to cash in on. He loved opportunities. Who's to say that it never knocked twice? Or even more than that? There was a small curl of his lips in a smile and he inched closer, about an arms length from her now he was. "What about me, Pris, am I like everyone else?" Curious to know the answer to this. Through it all he continued his smooth tones and non-threatening behavior. Benjamin made no quick or sudden moves and he kept the beast inside of him to a low rumble. While this girl was still prey, there were some hunts that had to take on different forms. "Look, I have even brought something for you."

[Guest]

when he moved closer, pris sighed. her lips pursed together, and her gaze narrowed a little. but she was still looking at her tree, even if her look was meant for poof. "if i have to move. it'll ruin the drawing. everything'll change. you'll have changed it. and all it will be good for is ripping." that was her way of telling him if he moved any closer to her again, she was going to move away. the funny thing was, because of her mood she was talking to him like he was a regular person. not the mysterious poof with his caves and taxis. she was leveling with him. giving him facts. she didn't like when people touched her, not if they weren't a person that she had deemed okay to touch her. zephyr had learned that in the cemetery earlier in the week, when he stuffed her mouth with that ball of leather. or his shin learned it, rather. just like she saw him move closer out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move the package closer out of the corner of her eye. "you aren't like everyone else. everyone else is like my teachers. or like your bitchwitch. or like waiters at restaurants or people on the street when i'm in a dress of lights. they put up with me as long as they have to and stop putting up with me when they no longer have to. you obviously want to put up with me. or else you wouldn't have driven up your taxi. but you're taxi's not right. and neither are you. and you know that, you know your sky's going to fade, you wrapped it up to protect it. but i don't even need to look at it, no one can paint a sky without fear anyway. i'll see it, poof. or do you think i'm ignorant too?" gee. the glass was half-empty for this girl today, wasn't it? or maybe she was just being pragmatic. well. as pragmatic as she could be considering she was crazy, right?

Pris had made him smile, albeit wasn't a happy or mirthful type of smile, it was a smile. A relaxing of his face as his head tipped ever so slightly to the right. She thought that he was going to touch her. Perhaps that was the amusing factor in all of this. While he wanted too - oh how he wanted too, she was so close. All he had to do was reach out and place the simplest touch upon her - either flesh or clothing - and he would have a connection. That was another reason why he fidgeted, it was the closeness. But he could handle it. He hadn't spent hundreds of years in this profession without learning a thing or two about patience and, if he was patient enough, the reward would be very well deserved. "Do not fear for your drawing, it will not be good for nothing but ripping for I am not going to touch you." He did not say that he would never touch

of course as benjamin spoke to her she was continuing her painting. she was on the sky now, and in it there were some interesting developments. it would certainly show pris' talent. for instead of regular clouds, there was a rather surreal stretched depiction of a tree stretched into the shape of clouds. this tree cloud was whisping upwards, as if the sky was carrying it off. once that was in place she went back down to the branches and finished those. now it was clear that the weeping willow was reaching for the tree in the sky, and that the tree in the sky was getting taken away while the hands were pulling down the weeping willow so it couldn't reach the tree in the sky. just another of what pris called portraits. it was clear she was done, because she changed how she was sitting. shifting her legs and pulling them under indian-style. her book sitting in her lap. her green eyes finally looked away from the willow. and they were once again her normal eyes. changing where they gazed every few moments. she didn't look over at him still. not yet. she looked down at the wrapped painting. and around it. then at her black shoulder bag, which was on the other side of her, the side he wasn't sitting near. her hand plunged into that bag, and she felt around. searching. but this time she wasn't doing any bluffing and trying to contact anyone on the phone. no, she was looking for her nail file. "you're a pirate. you keep your booty in the ching-a-ching cave. that's what the cave was trying to tell me and it went quiet when you came out so you wouldn't hear it tattle on you, and someday i'm going to be a swashbuckler and prove it." how was that for a strange answer to whether or not she wanted him to leave? pris pulled out her nail file, and she used her left hand - her not-usual-drawing-hand, to pierce the paper with the tip of it. she had dealt with all things artmaking that she could do it expertly. and not hurt the drawing. and then, rip. a clean slice of the file across the length of the paper, to start to uncover what was underneath. "is your sky snakes? stone-turning snakes?" because he seemed concerned about who looked at it.

While she opened his package, he looked at the drawing she had completed. It was a trade off of a sort that ended in both of them looking at some form of art. Benjamin enjoyed her art, it held a different type of truth that was not seen in everyone's work and, because of this, he could appreciate it and not give some sardonic remark on what he saw. At a different time he would have reached out and touched her drawing, taking it into his own hands. But he didn't. He had told her that he wasn't going to touch her and, for now, that meant her things as well. Of it all, he liked the sky and the hands grabbing at the trees roots the best. There was no perfect sky and the earth always took back it's bounty sooner or later. Despite all of Benjamin's abilities the man had certain things about him that were not often noticed but what Pris might have noticed a time or two. That is, if she paid attention. One of them was the fact that Benjamin took many things as allegory, whether on purpose or just to riddle a persons mind, it was one of the things he did. This could be why, when they first met at the cave, he took her story of picking cherries to mean harvesting items from the cave. It made sense to him. Now, what she would see when she opened the package may, or may not, be something she expected. "I have been called many things before. Pirate, is well-suited." Pealing away the paper would reveal a brown frame, and in that frame was a picture. What was this picture? Benjamin was no artist so she would have to overlook the rudimentary drawing, but it was good enough. The picture was a close up of a girls face. Not just any girl, but she bore a resemblance to the very same girl that now held the picture. Strands of hair made up the background and the girl had wide eyes that held a look of wonderment. The type of eyes a person shows when they see something curious that catches their attention and they don't know what it is, yet are going to find out. The lips were slightly agape in the formation of an 'O', that same sense of wonderment almost being spoken, yet not. There was a shine to the cheeks made up of reds and oranges, the lips had reflections of blue as did the eyes. there was a slight hint of fingers up against one of the cheeks. All of it was done with those three pastel colors she had given him, pressed to different temperance's so that the colors would be light and dark in various places. Sometimes they even mixed. It was a drawing of many outside lines with the inside being smudged. "The sky that never fades, Pris, is you. No matter what happens, your soul goes unchanged. It will never fade."

she didn't quite hold it. pris had bent forward when she started to take the paper off, and the painting remained on the ground. which was probably a good thing, considering what it was. or who it was. her eyes stilled again. stared at the image she saw there. her whole body stilled, statue-quiet besides her breathing and blinking. even the wad of paper she held in her one hand and the nail file in the other, those were still too. after the week she had, to have this be the 'moral of the story'...this was difficult. this was impossible. this might be enough to make her mind crack. that's probably why she attempted to recite something. "because i could not stop for.....because......because i could not......" she was starting to rock a little bit back and forth. no. that wasn't good enough. now she couldn't even sit still. quite suddenly out from the bush she came, stepping around the painting like it was a gravestone. bare feet treading on dry leaves and twigs and dirt-grass until she was a few steps away. pacing, sort of. almost in a circle and almost in a line at the same time. that's how erratic her steps were, that she was nearly making two geometric shapes at once. and now, she was wringing her hands. she'd dropped the charcoal when she'd gotten up, it probably fell near her sketchbook. wringing hands meant pris was trying not to cry. "because i could not stop - were toward eternity." she blurted that out in a pained little whine as she shook her head emphatically back and forth. the beginning of the poem, and the end. the word she couldn't get past was death. 'because i could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me...' maybe the poem she started to recite suddenly was more than words sitting here with benjamin and it came to mean something. "no. wrong you're wrong, pillowed walls and pills you're wrong." she finally managed to say. still pacing, still wringing.

When he had been wherever he had been at the time he was painting the picture, he had a thought that, even though she drew pictures, she may be the type that never wanted hers drawn. There was a time when people believed that to be captured in a picture was to have their soul taken from them. Pris, could be of the type. Then again, maybe she was the type who never looked at themselves in mirrors. She could have simply seen something in the picture. When she got up, Benjamin made no move, keeping his crouched position there upon the ground, but his eyes watched her. His eyes watched and his ears listened to the words that sputtered at first from her mouth. She was distraught again for she was spouting poetry. So. His drawing had put her in distress. He almost started to rise when she made the words about death. In fact, his hands pressed down upon his knees, arms bent, everything about him said that he was going to rise to his feet. Yet, still, he stayed. He stayed until her last string of words. They made him remember part of her that he had seen when she was dressed to go to the Ball and, just like that had caused a reaction from him, this did as well. He pushed down on his knees and Benjamin was slowly rising, still being mindful not to take any quick or dramatic actions, even if any movement he made was gracefully smooth. Though he stood, he did not move towards her, he simply stood. He had to be picky about the next words he used for they could turn the tides either way. How difficult things were when the beast was withheld and morals were in place. Damn morals, but without them, he would be a pure animal. Besides, he had a goal. "No pills. No padded walls. None of them are needed for you. A sky, can never be touched for it is above all." a momentary pause. "You, Pris, are better than anything they try to put on you. You rise above. Just like the sky."

there it was. that long, high-pitched wordless whining sound that pris made when she was desperately upset. and he would notice she wasn't looking down at the picture. she didn't see images of herself often. photographs, sometimes, but even then her family had to be careful about when to show them to her if the pictures were recent. she used mirrors, but got lost in them. she didn't really see herself in them, not really, that couldn't be her reflecting back at her. when he stood up her pacing halted. she turned to make sure she was facing him. "pirate," she shot at him. like an accusation, even though they'd both agreed on the term already. she was still wringing her hands. the wad of paper that she'd been holding and the nail file, she'd dropped those too by now. she was making a litter mess of the forest, wasn't she. "birds," she shot at him. all of her words like bullets. at least he'd broken her voice out of its flat pattern. there was certainly tone now, emphatic and defiant. "planeskitesballoons! rockets! smoke takes over if the whole forest is on fire. and pollutes. everyone pollutes." all the things that touched the sky that made it less pure. and that last one, about smoke and pollution, well...that one she probably meant for the sky and herself, too.

"All things that are in the air. Not the sky." All but Pirates. He had yet to see a Pirate in the air. He has seen one fly through it, but not actually be a part of the air. He understood that her words were in relation to the air (or sky) when he figured out how they all related, and that didn't take him long to do. While her voice may have changed, his remained the same tone during the entire conversation. What they were dealing in now may simply be a case of semantics. "You're clothes, your hair, your skin, those, Pris, are the air. What is inside of you, what can never be cluttered or masked over to where it is no more, is your sky." It was his experience that once people understood that they were a powerful force and that their inner being could not be quenched, that they reached a different level. This girl, Pris, had unrealized potential. Maybe it was potential she knew but was afraid of. "See it for what it is. Wondrous. Amazing. A litany of stars in the night. Things will come at you, they may try to cover or pollute you, but your sky will remain untouched." At least, by others. Using soul in an allegory was starting to make him hungry. He could feel it like a tingling in the back of his throat.

somewhere in his answer pris' eyes locked on benjamin. stilling on something other than an object for the first time since he'd arrived. watching his mouth as he formed the words. by the end of it, she was shifting her weight from foot to foot like a small child who had to use the bathroom. it was nerves. the pacing, the wringing, the shifting, the high pitched whining sound of earlier, all signs that what pris was hearing made her uncomfortable. she was having trouble looking away from him because of it. like some part of her didn't want to look away from his mouth just in case it made more uncomfortable words, as if staring at him would prepare her for them. she made a face, a crushed argumentative about to cry face as she gave a small whimper. "but." that was all she could say to him. each but more urgent than the last, "but. but. but," she insisted. "i said. a sky that never fades that doesn't have any fear. i'm not that. that sky. not me." he was fidgety earlier, now she was the one that was having a hard time staying still. the only thing that was still was her eyes. grandmother what big teeth you have, that's what she'd seen last time. pris suddenly wished dommy was here. or donald. she wanted to cling to something. not out of ear. but out of a need to feel safe and coddled.

[Guest]

There was the familiar curling of his hands as he stood there talking to her. It wasn't enough but this small motion helped to settle him - somewhat. There was a purpose behind this action of his, one that not many knew. It wasn't an elaborate gesture but it was able to be noticed if a person was watching. He could tell that what he said was getting to it. Small pricks that were slowly getting under her skin, button-pushing others may call. Was he doing so on purpose? There was that particular fear that she had. He would touch on this in an unassuming way. "You know what makes a fearless sky? When the sky has fears and yet refuses to let that fear control them." To him, it was a simple answer. And it made sense. Everyone had fears, what made the difference was if a person let that fear take control.

this conversation. it was a conversation her doctor would love to have. but never got anywhere close. benjamin had tried last time too, sort of. telling pris he could take fears away. she hadn't reacted very amicably to that. and pris remembered what he said to her and what she'd said back. and now her mind was racing as she tried to figure out how this topic had come up again. "painting the painting," she answered her mind in a mutter. up to that point she had been watching benjamin's lips, so she'd missed the movement of his hands. now she was glancing between him and the painting of her she'd left on the forest floor. only because he didn't mention or ask her about her particular fears, that was the only way reason this conversation had continued without her lashing out. even if it didn't continue on pris' part verbally. she just...nodded. she looked miserable about that fact, that she was agreeing with him, but...there was nothing to disagree with. and for once pris wasn't going to be a teenager and naysay just for the rebellion of it. she stopped wringing her hands, and hugged her arms around herself. probably mimicking what dommy or donnie duck would do if they were here with her, to try to give herself the coddling she wanted right now.

And, if she hadn't been so fearful of him touching her, he might have placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was one of his abilities, removing or quieting one emotion to override it with another, and he could have done that now for her. Not taking away anything that she had but giving her something else to feel instead. Perhaps he could have even caused the gloomy expression to leave her face. Benjamin went forward a step and then another, both of them in her general direction, and he offered up his own smile that showed a glimpse of his perfect white teeth. "The painting, the painting," his voice was softer now, his eyes were still the ever focused on her. "And you are the sky." Almost that he was pressing that point to her by how he continued to mention it. "Until we meet again, Pris." He veered his course slightly so that he could continue to walk but it would not be towards her, but rather towards the way he had come.

those teeth. the memory of them, flashing right back to the moment when she'd first stared at them and told her grandmother what big teeth you have. and she did again in this moment what she had when she'd stared at them the first time. she drew back her lips into a snarl. it looked rather silly, maybe, on a face as sweet as hers. even though he wasn't snarling himself, for pris it was a mimic it was a mimic of what she saw of him when she stared at his mouth. all those teeth marks she saw on ryan after all this is where they came from. she didn't move away when he came closer. she just shifted her weight again. from foot to foot, an urgent little rock back and forth. maybe the sound of one of her little whines, this one much quieter, would be picked up by him. her eyes were darting as fast as could be from the willow tree to the departing poof to his painting on the ground. trading through the sequence three times before she let out a frustrated growl, and then pris turned and promptly kicked the trunk of the tree nearest to her. kicking it in its tree shin. and then even smacking her palm against the bark. because she couldn't believe....she just couldn't believe...what she was going to say. "that's it?" she shouted after him challengingly. "that's IT?" her fists clenched, she stomped a few steps after him and shouted at his back. "pirate pirate stupid stupid painting pirate! that's not it. it's not."

or was it?

[to be continued. . !]

[Guest]

Benjamin heard the whine, just as he heard the one she had made earlier. It was a reaction, even if it was a small one, but it was a reaction and it told much. Ironically, if he had known that giving her a picture would have caused this must distress, well, he may have delivered it to her sooner. This thought, along with a few others, would be kept to himself. Even as she spoke to his back he did not stop in his walk. But he did slow down, not that he was walking very fast to begin with but it seemed that she almost would have followed after him and so his gait was allowing such a thing to happen. If she choose to follow that is. As she was talking to his back Pris wouldn't be able to see the grin that was now on his face. "Are you wanting something more?" he had to stop then for he had put a substantial distance between the two. far enough to be apart, but not too far that either of them had to yell to be heard. Voices carried in areas like this a bit. A pivot with his right he was facing her, his teeth hidden behind his lips as he continued to smile. "Can you not accept truth when you hear it? Sometimes it can be a hard thing to accept. Or maybe..." He paused here and he even leaned slightly forward as though he was about to step towards her but didn't. "You would like something from me."

her foot hurt a lot. so did her hand, a little. kicking and smacking the tree with bare skin when the trunk was as solid as...well, wood...it obviously wasn't the best idea. but the throbbing was actually helping her. it was something for her mind to focus on, each time the ache rose in a heartbeat-like pulse of pain. and it was also making her stay still. or nearly so. because each time she tried to shift her weight to the that injured foot the pain shot up in protest and back her weight went to her good foot. she kept her arms hugged tightly around her, even though she was shifting there a bit too. like she had to keep reminding herself to keep her arms where they were. her eyes were ping-ponging on him. eyes-nose-mouth. trading spots on his face. so she could watch him without having to stare. she didn't want to stare at him right now. maybe he was right. her lips were pressed tightly together. now that he was stopped. she was trying to gather her thoughts. she needed to say this as normally as possible. whatever normal meant. to her, it mean clarity. she needed to be clear. "you took cerulean and canary away. you poofed a taxi when i yelled taxi. you painted a painting because i told you to. and now you're trying to tell me i'm sky. why? all those things. why. to make more teeth marks? like that bitchwitch? because i'm not her. i'm not a bitch or a witch. so i'm not lovely if that's what you think lovely is." she hadn't forgotten he called her that their first time here. lovely.

"I do think that you are lovely." The reason he had kept walking away from her may not have been obvious to anyone but him. She was already distraught and now she was in pain. It was just another notch in the reasons as to why he should abandon this current way of being and revert to what he knew. But now, now he was retracing his steps and heading back to her, still with the slow pace. "To me, you are very lovely." And desirable. But that was left unsaid for she might interpret it in a different way than he intended. That was a problem with many of the females he encounters, if you tell them that you desire them they tend to think of it in a sexual manner. "You, are not like the other girl and so I would not try to make you her." Like her, possibly, but it wasn't the same as her. "You gave me your colors, told me to keep them even when I offered them back. You wanted me to draw something for you. When I asked if you wanted me to leave, you did not say yes." Closer and closer he came and he stopped at a respectable distance away. "Why do you want me around?"

as soon as he said she was lovely, she couldn't look at him anymore. emerald eyes went back to their usual pattern. of looking here there and everywhere. which sometimes included him, but she was no longer trying to watch him. she said nothing to his insistence and jumped on the next thing he said probably too emphatically, "gave you," a harsh scoff under her breath while he was still talking, "gave you gave you the second time not the first, not the first. and you, you said you...you said you...what you said." she'd phrase it that way instead. it seems she either couldn't or wouldn't say the word fear. "was wrong. so the drawing that drawing was supposed to be proof that poof was pfht. wrong." as for the rest. the rest pris was silent about as her eyes darted here and there over the forest floor and her jaw was set in a stubborn frown. finally all she grumbled was, "you're not like everyone else." it was the truth. he wasn't and this week she was tired of all the people who were like everyone else, too tired to even try bothering to be around them even by wandering on buses. because of it she was lonely. another pause and she looked up at him. tried to look at him at least, in the eyes. maybe she made it. asking quietly, almost with a faint whine. "what am i supposed to do with it?" the painting.

This was turning into a complication. Benjamin did not like complications. When things started to get out of sorts he simply dealt with them in a quick manner and the complication was over. This anger, distress, pain, sadness, were pouring from this young girl, and she kept whining. The slight movement of his hands - fingers curling in and out at his sides - happened again as he stood there watching her. This earth-child was stirring up past memories. Maybe they were his own, or maybe they were the memories of one of his countless victims. Either way, they were his now and in one of them was the memory of little boy playing with a ball by himself while others of the same age laughed and ran around playing together. Those kids played together but for some reason that boy was off by himself. There was something about that boys face and the face on Pris' face that were similar. What ever had happened to that boy? "Keep it," came his off handed remark, even was added with a slight shrug of his shoulders. An action that said he didn't care much about what was going on. Almost a contradiction because Benjamin was walking towards her. "It is a picture for you, not for anyone else and therefore no one else has to see it." unless she wanted them too. She had said that he wasn't like everyone else and it was something that he was rather proud off. He liked being different - or having the ability to be different. "The first time, you had dropped your colors. I merely found them and provided them with a home until I would be able to see you again. So that I may give them back." There was a lot of truth in his words, as their should be for it was the truth. He had picked them up with the intention on giving them back. It was all the things that he wasn't saying that should be brought to question. "Remember how nicely I had them sitting in the car seat, waiting for you? How I even took them out at your request and placed them upon the hood of the car so that you could take them without you entering into the vehicle. I have been trying to return them. The colors that mean much to you. Would you like them back?" His eyes drifted down to her shifting feet. "Would you like me to see to your injury?" What he wasn't saying were the things that should be a concern.

keep it. what a horrible thought. that's what pris' face said as her head turned to look back at the drawing left with her things under the bush she'd been nestled in when all of this began. "keep it keep me, but then what when that me - " the quiet murmur to herself stopped when benjamin started moving. because her gaze was pulled away from his painting. and was back on him and around him. even though she stopped speaking the thought continued. and became a question. asked over and over, but then what when that me starts to talk? the repetition of that question would continue until pris answered it. "when sheets get thrown over their cages parrots think it's time to sleep." she said that very quickly, in a rush. and the question disappeared, and pris looked relieved. that was a solution she could actually try. pris' lips parted, just like that 'o' shape that benjamin has chosen to paint in his painting, as she was about to answer about the colors. but he kept talking. and his second question jerked her mind far far away from the first. "NO!" fast and fearful, her head shaking back and forth with panicked disagreement. "no doctors no doctoring no doctorizing no. no." as soon as someone tried to step into the role of 'doctor' even by tending to an injury or would, that was the answer they got from pris. she hated doctors with a passion, or doctoring as she called it. probably because she didn't trust what they stood for. she'd even reacted this way to donnie duck when he tried to treat her sprained wrist that one time.

His right hand rose up, the tops of his fingers level with his chin. Arm extended outward towards her, he could have even been offering her his hand. He would remember her reaction towards doctors, it was filed in his mind along with the other information he was gathering about her. Benjamin leveled his eyes on her, even if her own eyes skittered here, there and everywhere, he kept his steady. Pris would now have a choice to make. "You continue to deny my help." His hand swept the side, ushering her, as he began to turn around once more. "Follow me under your own will power then. Or not. " It was her choice. His hand was lowered to his side once again and no his back was to her. "Your materials will be okay if you choose to leave them and follow me. No doubt your colors are wanting to return to you." Deciding to include the note about her pastels as an extra incentive to get her to follow him. If she did, he would walk slow. She did have a bad foot at the moment. There were so many options here for him to take but what would he do if she decided to stay? Perhaps she wasn't so lonely as to not want the company.

that was the problem. she did want the company. but...even lonely she wasn't stupid. his mind wasn't the only one that filed. poof. grandmother what big teeth you have. maker. pirate. teethmarks. he could take the bitchwitch over. painted her ask sky. her face twisted into an ugly look of bratty frustration that he was probably better off not seeing. her way of trying to get that feeling out of her without stamping her foot. arms still folded so she was hugging herself, her hands clenched into fists. she said at his back. in the tone of 'duh'. "um. pirate. my materials. they're just stuff. stuff is always okay. even if it's broken it's okay. because it's just stuff. you didn't say anything about me. if i'd be okay. i don't want teeth bites all over me. dommy'd get really mad. then i'd be grounded. i know what he's going to say, when i show him the portrait." here's where she started to mimic. "what did i tell you prissy? pirates are killers thieves and scoundrels and when they find a cute sweet little you they love to steal her away so they can share her with the whole crew." slight pause. "you didn't say anything about me." she'd said a lot. to him while he was slowly walking away. and she knew he might just keep going, she knew that.

[Guest]

"Because you will not be okay." How was that for an answer? Boastful and with hint of arrogance in his tone. "If you choose not to follow you will wonder what would have happened if you had chosen to come instead of staying out here with the Weeping Willow." Indeed he did continue to walk in his slow manner. He was about where he was when he first stopped to talk to her. They were still in a distance to hear the other. Note that he had mentioned the tree she had been drawing. That tree was a reflection of how she had been, now, to his mind, she was different than before. "But if you choose to stay behind, and brigands found there way into the forest and to the hide-out of your bush, know that you will not be shared by them. I've never been good with sharing." Though what he was really wanting to say was that he didn't share his lovely things. He didn't. Benjamin could be very selfish beast, taking things as his -whether they were given to him or not - and keeping them to himself. "I ask you to remember, Lovely." He called her that now, "I said that I would not touch you." Just as he did not see that look she had made, she was not able to see the way he smiled. Everything about her words told him that she was considering coming with him but was trying to find a justifiable means not too. If she had a reason, a good reason, to say no then she wouldn't be plagued by wondering what my have happened and instead be glad that she had stayed behind.

those answers. those answers. the sound pris made by the time he was done speaking was akin to a nice long, "uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh." as she doubled over a bit. it was the one way she could squirm her frustrations without moving her feet or her arms. to double over, and then pull herself back up again. this stupid stupid stupid choice. she hated it. every bit of it. it was enough to make her want to kick another tree. "but poof," she said that almost imploringly to his back. and as she said it, look at that. she was taking a few ginger steps forward. maybe because she knew he was going to keep walking. and her tone kept imploring, almost desperately, like she wanted him to be nothing more than what she was about to say, "why. why is it that you're not like everyone else. think i'm lovely but. you put teeth marks in people and take over bitchwitches and want to loot my booty in caves without touching me instead of...of...dancing with me in cemeteries under the moon or, or. dressing up and haunting churches. or watches the horses run." a friend. why was one of the three people who she felt wasn't like everyone else a grandmother what big teeth you have instead of being a friend? "not fair," was the concluding grumble. she'd trudged reluctantly forward. but if he got anywhere near the mouth of the cave or went in it? pris wasn't going to go that far, she'd kind of halt and fidget. the activities she'd listed were the product of her getting on buses and riding all over the places and getting off those buses at random. her 'haunts', so to speak.

All of those places were taking into his memory as well. They were places, important places if she felt the need to utter them to him. Churches, now that place would cause a problem. As it currently stood he could not enter into the Inn when the daimon was there for longer than a few moments at a time. Her force and his caused a disturbance and it was something he wasn't able to maintain his form around. The very few times they had been in contact he had held on to his reserve with greedy hands. Reasons. Reasons as to why he hardly stepped foot inside of the Inn. "Would you like me to be like everyone else?" His ears had picked up the sound of her following and he listened to the pattern to see if it was causing any strain on her hurt leg or not. "Would you like me to be like those people who laugh at you, snigger behind you back or make fun of the things that you do and talk to you as if you don't understand?" The only quick and sudden movement would be taken now as he spun around quickly to face her. Those hands at his side were open, fingers spread and his eyes locked. "You understand things perfectly." Very pointed statement. Though it wasn't forceful it wasn't smooth nor did it contain any softness. The words were cold. In the next moment his fingers curled back in and his tone returned to the casual swagger he had been using. "I am helping them, Pris." and he was helping himself, though those words were unsaid. "Whether your bitchwitch knows it or not, she needs my help. I do not touch you, not because I don't want to, but because you have asked me not too. Are you withdrawing your request?" the cave mouth was close, nay but a few feet away from the lip that would enter. Of course, the cave was dark inside.

her walk was slow, and cautious. not because of her foot but because of him. or the cave. or both of them. still, cautious walking she could do without wincing. sudden movements, or running, or. then he'd be able to hear or see the pain. she hadn't sprained her foot, she'd just...treated it badly. bruised and banged it up. in a fit of temper. still. the dull achy of it was nice. it made sure she understood things perfectly. just like he said. all those questions of his, they made her scowl. a less than pretty act on a more than pretty face. "no," she said in tone that was a tempest. "that's the point, you're not like them and that's good. but the rest of you, that's bad. pirates aren't Romantic. that's what dommy said. only swashbucklers dance in cemeteries and haunt churches and watch horses run...i need swashbucklers not...not..." not what? she made a face. a tart lemon face. before she spat out. "teeth." a half shift of her weight, before the sting of her injured foot made her shift that weight back. her eyes were in the sky now. like the clouds were going to answer her or give her what she wanted. and there went her lip. the bottom one, pushing forward in a pout. a sigh leaving her through the nostrils. "aren't you ever a swashbuckler?" it was asked in a tiny, hopeful voice. "ever? i...i wouldn't tell. i promise." she was trying to negotiate with him. negotiating to get a friend. she should know better, that if she had to negotiate ... but still. there she was trying to negotiate by taking a step towards him. even if she was shaking her head as her eyes dropped to his hands. she wasn't about to withdraw that request. not yet.

Damn. Damn her and what she was, for that's what it was. It was what she was: a young, innocent girl who stirred up the memory of the lone boy playing by himself. To him it almost sounded as though she were pleading, perhaps she was, and he kept the sigh to himself, working it out as he took slow steps towards her. Was it a yes, or was it a no. This was boring holes through his carefully constructed plans but it was as he heard once upon time about good plans going to ruin. He would meet her halfway, or more than half way since she only took a step. She took one and he took two. "I cannot be anything but what I am." Which was different. She liked that he was different, she said so herself. Then he took another step and, again, his hands twitched at his side. Energy was slowly building up inside of him. "But what I can be, Pris, is many things." His voice had taken on a softer quality as he drew nearer to the lonely girl dressed as a tree, the cut out leaves on the dress looking dead, frail, and ready to once again become one with the earth. Benjamin continued to walk towards her until he was close, close enough to be an arms reach away. He motioned up to her hair, he wasn't touching her, but his fingers played on the wind and air like he actually could have touched her. Did she know that her outfit was fitting of her portrait? Even a tree, with full of leaves that looked dead and then they fell to the ground, only sprang forth with new life? "Shedding yourself of all the things that tie you down, the Lovely Pris will become brighter." Romantic. That wasn't something he believed he could be. it wasn't in his make up. Sure, he could play the games, take on the role and attributes that were needed for him to get what he needed. In the end it was all just a game wasn't it. It was all just a game, right? His fingers moved down from the air around her head and to the outline of the side of her face. Her head was tipped upwards and his hand was far enough away however, some people have been known to say that by him simply playing in the air around them they would feel warmth. It wasn't something he did on purpose, it was simply something that was apart of him. Simple, non-invading warmth, like the sun had decided to rise and they were being graced by a few of its rays. Comforting, consoling, warmth. "I can be a swashbuckler. "

romantic. that word was tricky. like desire people made assumptions. pris wasn't asking him to take her for cake and a movie that ended in kisses when she said romantic. pris didn't even think like that yet most of the time. she meant Romantic like stories. like adventure and intrigue and mystery and butterflies in the belly. the life of a swashbuckler. at least...that's how she saw the life of a swashbuckler. when benjamin came closer to her she was forgetting to breathe. because every part of her was too busy screaming a question at her - what are you going to do? what the rest of her didn't realize was that insisting like that was freezing pris up like a deer in a stupor. her eyes were the first thing to unfreeze. watching the travels of his hand like she was tracking it, waiting for it to do something different than what it was currently doing. by the time his hand traced her face, the air that was being held captive in her lungs slowly released in a sigh that sounded too much like relief. too much like peace of some kind. and the next breath that she took in, it came with the girl dropping her arms to her sides. no longer hugging herself. a little warmth, it seemed, went a long way. pris did love to be coddled. when it was someone she trusted, at least. which....? and that's why the question came. that very sticking point. "tying me down? roots? what things?" her head moved slightly, as if she wanted to look at her feet. and make sure she had toes still and not roots. but. she couldn't shouldn't wouldn't look away from his hand.

That hand simply played against the air, stroking it as if it were actually her face and his fingers were touching flesh. Then his other hand lifted to play in the air on the other side of his, but this one didn't stay up by her face, no. This hand was trailing down her side and down along her arm. Those warm tendrils brushing along her body. Pris liked the warmth. It seemed to make her relax and that was a good thing. People were more accepting when they were relaxed and she had been so sad earlier. It may be even easier for her to hear him now that she was starting to relax. Although, if she relaxed too much and her legs betrayed her by buckling and letting her drop, then Benjamin would have to go against what he said and touch her. Then again, who's to say that he wouldn't touch her yet even if she hadn't agreed? That may have been the reason she was watching his hand. Watching to see if his fingers were going to dance their way close and move against her. This slight release of energy was helpful. Not only was it calming for her, but it calmed him as well, even if it did only serve to heighten his desire. A double edge sword. "All those things that weighted heavy on your mind." The things she had come here with, the things that had her in the dress and being a human picture of that weeping willow. "You should smile for me, Lovely. You should smile and let yourself be at peace." Those were comforting words in his mind.

her breath was quieting, slowing and evening. the more he moved his hand around her in those would-be petting motions. and he'd notice the relaxation in her body too. some of the tension dropping away. so she wasn't such a stiff tree. yes. this was what being a swashbuckler was more like. this was how donnie duck treated her, or dommy. contentwarmsafe. those feelings she never felt unless she was with one of those two people in her life. "i don't smile." pause. "a lot. most of the time my face forgets how." it was a soft murmur. her emerald eyes switching between his eyes and his hand. she was still trying to be careful. and she didn't have to be careful with donnie or dommy. that was the difference here. he was right. he could be a lot of things. but when she stared at him she'd still see him for who he was, and like he said who he was, that was all he could be. "and those things. the heavy ones. they always come back. they ride on everyone. on people's shoulders like parrots. waiting to jump on me wherever i go. jump on me through people's stares. you said i rise above them like sky, but." pris shook her head. and then she made a face, another lemon tart face. she didn't know how she felt about that. whether or not she rose above. this week. she didn't much feel like herself. and she couldn't remember what she normally was like, when she felt like this.

"Believe it." Humans, such funny and odd creatures. They nearly always believed that the sun would shine, wind would blow and that there'd be air to breathe. They believed that people would be there for them, and they believed that there would always be something to eat. They believed in a lot of things but the moment you asked them to believe in themselves suddenly belief was a figment of the imagination. No. How could they ever believe in themselves? Only if they could believe it, without doubt or question. If only. "Believe it. Though they wait to jump on you, it will never find a foothold." The hand that played along her side shifted to move in front of her, both hands now at her face. He was being careful to not put out anything else but warmth. How easy it would be right now to send a small line of energy towards her and through her body. How easy it would be enter in, in the guise of comforting warmth, and embed himself within her consciousness. How easy. Benjamin would settle for what he was doing now, for this was no simple act, but the chance of Pris remembering this act were highly probable and her remembering that he was kind to her, and understanding, and comforting, was enough to make him a part of her memory on her own accord. All he had to do was be. His hands brushed around her face, the gesture commonly made when pushing back a person's hair. He smiled, even if she did not. It was a small smile and one that did not show his teeth. He remembered what happened last time and to show them now, well, that would ruin everything now wouldn't it? From her face his hands drifted back down along her sides. "If you were to need me. Call me."

[Guest]

believe it. her mind played that like an echo. if only her doctor could observe benjamin and take notes on him. he would be able to handle pris, if he was more like poof. and maybe then his doctor's books would stay in his bookcase, and not get flung all over the room and at his head and his fancy college papers framed on the wall. "they don't they usually don't i have ways, ways because when people look at me they think they know what they should see and...." and she played their game and gave them what they expected. pris' mouth suddenly clamped shut, before she finished that sentence. creeping over her cheeks, there was the faintest flush. but it wasn't a flush of guilt. no no. it was a flush of 'i said too much'. and she press press pressed her lips together nice and tight to keep her from saying anything else. her emerald green eyes straying to look here there and everywhere to the side instead of at him or his hands. just for a moment. just until the sheepish case of the isaidtoomuches went away. and then, she looked back at him. her green eyes looking at him. right at him. eyes to eyes. and her head titled slightly to the side. "like...boom?" she tried to say 'boom' without making a grr face, she really did. "that kind of when i need when things go crash and boom comes to save me?" at least she was smart enough not to mention that she wasn't calling on boom anymore.

Boom. Boom. Who was Boom? It took only a few seconds for it to register with him how 'Boom' was. Thor. The man who came to save her outside of the cave. The man who had spoiled his opportunity just when he was about to strike. The man who had caused Pris to run in fright and drop her pastels. Benjamin was working out how the 'hero' guise would fit on him and if the role was something that he could play. She had said she wouldn't tell if sometimes he was the swashbuckler she needed but, would he really care if she did? No. She was looking at him now and he always found it fascinating when people did that, especially her with that talent she had of seeing people for what they really were. There were teeth there, yes, she would see teeth. The Werewolf. And the rest? That was carefully guarded and cast aside from the sight of any mortal - sometimes all save for those of his same nature - could see the rest. What would she do if she saw him fully for what he was? He doubted then that she would even be here. If was enough for her to know that he was 'Poof' and a 'Maker' for he was those things and more. Pris would see the Wolf when looking at him with those seeing eyes. The vicious wolf who was, right now, still. "If you call for me, I will come." Just as he had come with the 'Taxi.'

pris' eyes were watching his eyes. but he would notice even though it was subtle that her gaze was moving. just tiny little shifts of her pupils. like she was focusing on different parts of his eyes every few seconds. she wasn't quite staring. maybe she didn't want to see, not right now. not when things were contentwarmsafe. even if she knew she would see teeth or bites or new things if she stared that would remind her that he wasn't really her swashbuckler, that...that...well she could save that for another day. couldn't she? and besides. she was the sky. she could rise above. no one could get a foothold. and he was no one too. no he wasn't. yes he was. she...well...she'd save that thought for another way too. instead she was just staring at him. in silence. the only sound from her was her calm breathing. she was watching watching watching his eyes. and then she reached up with her one hand, her right hand. and she mimicked him. the gesture he did just away from her face, she did that back. not touching him, because he hadn't touched her. and it was a mimic of the distance his had been from her face, and the motions he had made with his hand, and even the same pace that his hand had. complete with the gesture back, the through the hair air gesture. even though his hair was short and not like hers at all. when she did that last gesture - still not touching him of course - he got what he wanted. a shy at first, and then bloomingly beautiful smile. he would come if he called her. that meant something to her. something that she felt very deep in her, to the point where it stirred butterflies. "okay." she said that in a whisper whisper, bobbing her head as she took a few steps backward. "okay." the smile was the sight she left him with, before she turned her back on him once she was a short distance away. heading back to collect her things. after all, her usual heroes would be home soon. and she had a painting to show donnie and her brother.

[fin!]

[Sponsored content]