Defecting [Vienna\Public]

Well, no wonder that thing had felt so damn heavy. What hadn't she packed? It was too amusing to feel irritated (not that he would, either way) over, though, and he found himself genuinely curious as to what other survival tools she'd found necessary enough to bring (he had to admit, the soap had been a good call).

The dressing screen had been a bit of a disappointment at first, though. But in retrospect, did he really expect her to strip naked in front of him? No. Only in his dreams, maybe. And when he thought about it, there was almost something about the nature of the whole thing that made it even more alluring--not a few feet away from him, she was unclothed, and all that separated them was a flimsy screen. Perhaps the Japanese had been onto something after all, with that whole 'men are entertained by what they can't have' crap. He was certainly being entertained by it, right now. But unlike the Japanese, he wasn't entirely sure he would just stay subdued if the opportunity came to actually take what he shouldn't have been able to have.

When she emerged, he assumed that she was wearing her nightclothes...or some other form of 'dressed-down'. But he only surmised this because he was comparing it to what she normally wore. Otherwise, he would have still thought it was extravagant to some extent (not that this was a bad thing, as it was fitting for her)--though the furs somewhat neutralized it, to his mind. It was a bit of a surprise; so even the rich wore fur? But then, he didn't know what could be warmer. Nor that fur came in different qualities and was considered expensive in other parts of the world.

For a while, he just studied her while sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her makeshift bed, hunched slightly, elbow on his knee and chin in his hand. Maybe it was the half-light cast on him from the flickering lantern, or the simple fact that he wasn't quite smiling, but for once, his face didn't reflect a totally happy, carefree person. It was just normal, contemplative. A man observing a thing of beauty. A work of art.

But he finally realized that the silence was going on for too long, and he pulled himself together. "Do you need anything else? ...Do you want me to leave?" He had to hesitate before the second inquiry. It wasn't something he really wanted to ask, but maybe she wanted some privacy.

She caught his expression and attempted to decipher it. It wasn't sad, but... Seeing him not as cheerful was disconcerting. And he was looking at her like that. She just didn't know what to make of it.

Shaking her head at his inquiries (though technically she did need something) she fidgeted before saying much. "I... well..." She was embarrassed to admit it, but she couldn't fall asleep without something warm next to her. When it wasn't Auguste, it was a pillow she heated by the small furnace. But there was no furnace here, just him.

And if someone asked... She preferred him. "I...I just can't... I mean... I'm not used to sleeping alone..."

She would mention the pillow if she had to. She desperately needed sleep and that was the only way to get it.

"That is... If you don't mind..."

...Was she doing this on purpose?? He felt like he was being driven crazy. Maybe she was actually suggesting that they could...? But no, she had just said straight out that she simply couldn't sleep alone. If it was meant to be the way he was thinking, then she would have been acting differently, right? Here, she seemed legitimately a little embarrassed, not flirtatious or hinting at anything of a second nature.

It was impossible to deny her--he knew that before he even considered it. Standing up wordlessly (his voice was caught in his throat), he took his shoes off (when he first joined the carnival, he'd always taken his shoes off before walking around the insides of the cars...and quickly realized after getting a nasty splinter in his foot that it wasn't a good idea) and laid them neatly off to the side, along with his headband. Everything else he left on, though. No need to make anything easier for him than it already was.

Actually getting into the 'bed' with her was painless enough in itself, although he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt nervous lying next to a woman. Hands molding smoothly to her waist (was she wearing something under her clothes? He could feel something stiff encircling her middle--), he held her as close as he dared, and at last whispered to her, "Is this okay?" He wasn't sure whether he was asking about the position he'd chosen or the fact that he was there at all in the first place.

He willed his fingers not to move, willed his heart to beat slowly, willed his breaths to come evenly, willed himself not to inhale too much of her perfume, which contrasted so much to the sharp scent of the sea that was forever stained into his clothes.

But he couldn't will himself from kissing her forehead, just once. He gave himself that much.

She smiled tiredly when he obliged her; she knew it was an odd request. It wasn't if she was blind to some of what he was experiencing, he wasnt best at hiding his emotions, she'd found out quickly. And she was certainly used to getting looks like that. She was glad she still could. The only thing she couldn't figure out was how she'd somehow coaxed the feelings from him so quickly... And why she was beginning to mirror them. She had to remind herself that it was a bad idea to dive right into them just because a man was acting nice and interested. She knew how it usually turned out. But this man... He deserved her time.

She was already half asleep when she heard him whisper. There was caring in that tone, and she couldn't help but smile into his shirt, which smelled pleasantly of the ocean, a place she'd been but once, or maybe in a dream, the one in Spain. Yet... How did she remember the smell? "You're wonderful..." She mumbled quietly. Franze never wanted to wake up and face the most likely harrowing day ahead of her of this was the present. But there was no more time to dwell on her fears before she fell asleep to his warm heartbeat, as steady and calming as the tide rolling in from the sea.

Slowly, he pulled a hand away from her waist to rest his fingers against the side of her face, stroking it lightly as he watched her drift off into slumber (after which, he could exhale in relief--an unconscious girl was no joy to make love to, so he could relax knowing his struggle to keep his cool was over). He was entirely unsure exactly what he was feeling at the present moment--something more than just friendship, more than just lust. But he didn't try to figure it out. He didn't want to, not right now.

"You're wonderful..."

The words kept echoing in his head as he eventually began to also nod off--they carried an underlying tenderness that he'd never really recieved before. Oh sure, he'd heard affection and compliments in varying forms from women before, but not nearly with the same degree of sentiment. Likewise, he treated them pretty well for a guy that made it glaringly clear he only wanted sex, and he touched and held them like a lover would. In the end, however, he left and forgot every single one of them once he got what he was looking for. His sentiments were just as gilded.

But it struck him that, for the first time, he was falling asleep with a woman he hadn't had sex with, and was not planning on ditching her upon waking. And it didn't bother him in the slightest.

She didn't remember much when she woke up, and she wasn't in a hurry to remember when she realized there was probably a busy carnival outside, and she couldn't stay in this car forever. Although, she thought, looking at who was next to her. There was still so much she didn't know. Someone who trains bears definitely has other things that aren't so obvious.

Like those tattoos she hadn't noticed much before. In her exhaustion, everything had become a big blur. As gently as she could to not wake him up, she held one of his hands close to her and traced the patterns with her fingers. She reached his wrist-- they didn't seem to disappear.

Forgetting about making sure she didn't wake him, she rolled up his sleeves. That was where it would have ended, but she remembered the same black lines at his neck. She knew as much it wasn't good to just unbutton his shirt to see the rest, he would think she was more than odd. So, with light fingers, she reached into his collar, feeling for the slightly raised black lines. There were probably many more than she really thought.

It wasn't just his tattoos that interested her. He took off his headband, but not his earrings? Since when did men wear earrings? Maybe they were as permanent as his tattoos. She wanted to touch them, but she knew she would wake him up if she did, if she hadn't somehow already by sticking her hands into his shirt.

"Why can't I just stay here with you..." She murmured quietly, shifting so she could bury her face into his hair and smell the sea again.

((Was supposed to reply to the other one next, but I already know how to start this reply, so I might as well even though it kills me to not go in order--/sob /shot))

It wasn't until her fingers slipped into his shirt that he began to stir awake, slowly. Before his eyes even opened, his mouth curled upwards into a sly smile, his body remembering that there was a female presence next to him before his half-asleep mind could catch up. Sensing that her face was in his hair, he buried his into her neck, a slight humming reverberating in the back of his throat. Funny, he didn't quite feel like he had sex the night before; maybe he'd been drunk and now couldn't remember--oh well, perhaps now there could be a round two? Tracing her jawline with the bridge of his nose, he placed hungry kisses lazily down her jugular--

Until his lips pressed against a pearl strung around her collar, upon which he froze.

Simultaneously, he realized that the both of them (for his hands were still on her waist) were fully clothed, and lying on something that was most certainly not just a stack of hay. And it all came rushing back.

"Franze!" He practically leapt backwards and upright, horrified. The whole time, he'd done so well at controlling himself...only to mess it up, just like that!? And how was he supposed to explain himself--that it had been an instinct? An almost automatic reaction? He didn't want her to know that about him. He didn't want her to think...well, he didn't know what.

"Sorry, I...I wasn't thinking--" Almost as soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back (first off, when was he ever thinking?); people didn't normally start sampling each other's necks just because they're not 'thinking'. A very unfamiliar feeling overcame him: embarrassment. Pointedly keeping his gaze away from her, he busied himself with putting his headband back on, taking way more time to readjust it than was necessary. He felt nervous, flighty... He wanted to just leave, but he couldn't. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He wanted to look at her, but he was too afraid to.

What if her expression was one of disgust?

((OH MY FREAKING GOD, do you see how long it took me to string this nonsense together? /sob I can't write anymore, not tonight, I am blocking way too badly, ffff Sorry-- :( ))

((FFFF sorry, I get so fnfnfjfneknr when a routine is messed up for more than a day :/ idk if it's OCD or what XD))

At first, she accredited his face in her neck to him stirring while he woke up. She didn't see his smile. But she smiled. Secretly (though maybe not so much a secret anymore), she liked to be close to him. And if he got closer, well, all for the better. She felt even safer.

That is, until her blood ran a little cold as sloppy kisses lined her veins. Sure, she had growing feelings for him. But she knew it was too soon and that she hadnt even asked. What did that make him, then? She felt his lips hit her jewelry and he immediately stumbled up, sending her over the other side of the pile of hay with a light thud.

Perhaps if she had no feeling for him, fear would have totally taken over, and she would have listened to him, and asked why he had to think or else would fall into sexual assault. But she was dumbstruck. She placed a hand on her neck as if to preserve the evidence and shakily stood up. Ever since she had dreamt of the unfortunate girl in Spain, any surprising intimacy sent her into shock. She was attempting and failing to find words for herself, as well.

"What was that...?!" Nome of what she said seemed right. There was no way she could really fear him. "You could have said something...!"

Flinching when she spoke, he turned nervously to face her, looking much like a kid that knows he's done something wrong and awaits punishment. Fidgeting, he considered with some anxiety the consequences of if he screwed it up even more with his next words.

"I...I just--I was half-asleep, and...I guess I thought you were some other girl...any other girl, that I--..." He didn't even know what he was trying to say anymore. Did he seriously think that, with the direction that sentence was going in, he was doing himself any favors? Face slightly red, he figured the best course of action was to just shut the hell up and get on with the apology.

"I'm sorry, Franze, I didn't mean to..." He wanted to do something to reassure her, but touching her any more or advancing towards her seemed like a bad idea, at the moment. He was not used to this, this...uncertainty. It didn't feel good. It wasn't fun. Was this how guys like Arash felt, all the time? It sucked.

((I guess I can stop watching rotifers long enough to post this. :I /shot))

He didn't know it, but his stammering had been his savior. Slowly her hand dropped from her neck and she lowered her head so he wouldn't see her smile. He said she wasn't just any other girl. That's more than Auguste had ever said. Yet this man had only known her for a fraction of the time.

Quietly she walked over, and, placing her hands on his chest as leverage, leaned up and gave him a small, sweet kiss. "I have a proposition for you, Itakshir," She smiled as pink saturated her cheeks. "Everyday you're a good man, I'll multiply that kiss by two. That means," She fiddled with getting his headband straight as she spoke. "That tommorow you could get two, and the next day, four, until I decide you could treat me like 'any other girl'." Until she fell in love with him. This was as much an excercise in limitations for him as it was for her.

There was really no way she could hate him. So he made one slip-up. His track record was too good. Besides, whom else did she have to guide her here? No, she didn't want to think about the outside yet. She looked into those eyes that made her forget. "So how does that sound?"

It was a surprise, to say the least.

He'd been bracing himself for a slap (it wouldn't have been the first time), or worse, verbal abuse. Certainly, he hadn't been hoping for anything good. So when he unexpectedly got the very last thing he'd been thinking of, his face flushed somewhat, as well. (When was the last time he'd blushed at anything?? Ever, even?) He didn't even recover in time to return the kiss--though apparently, he'd have plenty more opportunities.

Too dazed with surprise to answer properly for a moment, a corner of his mouth tugged upward as he pretended to consider it, "Sounds good, I think. I do get to kiss you back, though, right?" He touched a thumb to the curve of her lower lip, eyebrows raised, "Just a little? It would be rude to just stay still...who could resist, anyways?" He grinned, but he was deadly serious. She'd shocked him into doing nothing once; the only way that would happen again was if he were in a coma. But he could keep it to just a little kiss, for her sake. For her sake...

This was all very new for him, and he wasn't quite sure why he was so eager to go along with it. The toothy grin faded away, but it was replaced with a smile that was a bit more sweet--as though she'd transferred the flavor to his lips. Shifting his hand so that it cupped the side of her face, he held it for a moment in silence before drawing away.

Pulling his shoes back on, he went over to the car door and peeked outside before turning towards her with a jovial smile, "Looks like everyone's up. Ready?" 

It seemed like it would be great fun, to him, meeting all these new people. But then, he was an extrovert in the extreme.

"If you didn't return the favor I'd be disappointed," She smiled slyly, batting his finger off her lips. "These aren't gifts, you know. They're an investment..." Her words trailed off when he cupped her face. Had she gotten such a look before? She wasn't sure. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was leaning into his hand, both of them seemingly daring each other to blink. Blink and miss... Something, she didn't know what. But she didn't want to lose. she was about to give him the next day's kiss installment, but...

All too quickly it ended, and he headed towards the door, opening it a little. She stepped away from the light creaking in, as if it would hurt her. In there it was always night, always quiet, and always him. But he wouldn't just leave her there when they got out, would he? No. Never. Right?

A lump rose in her throat; she could only nod. Putting up a hand to tell him to wait, she changed into a party dress (had to impress, she thought) and applied her makeup as quickly as possible, adjusting her hair with pins. She joined him at the open door, and with as much apprehension as a baby bird jumping from the nest for the first time, she sat on the floor of the car and tried her best to slide out with ease. She almost nearly ripped her dress. She wondered if anyone would notice--

Of course they would notice. She used to be the poster child for mystique's non freak attractions. She was painted on banners one could see from miles away. Suddenly that lump in her throat got bigger. Would she even be able to speak?

He was going to warn her when she sat on the ledge, to stop her and offer to help, when she exited the car (he didn't pick up on the nearly-damaged dress, it seemed) perfectly fine by herself. Leaping out after her, he shut the car door and grinned at her confidently, taking her hand for reassurance. No doubt she would be a little nervous--though he assumed in a positive way, and had no clue the full scope of her apprehension.

He wondered who he ought to introduce her to first, if any order was to be followed, when he spotted a small blonde figure waiting outside of the main tent. Well, why not? Might as well start with the only person who'd also left Mistique.

"Sofochka!" He called out, causing the blind girl to perk up curiously, already knowing who had addressed her (Itakshir was the only one who'd taken a liking to that particular diminutive) but not why.

"Morning," he said to her in English once they'd gotten close enough for conversation, "Waiting for Cosim?" She returned the greeting (wondering why he wasn't speaking in Russian, but noting that he sounded more cheerful than he had been lately) and nodded--Cosim was getting their breakfasts. There was not much of an orderly line system at meal time; everyone just kind of crowded around to get their food, and she'd already proven quite tearfully that the pushing distressed her. Cosim, being a head taller than most, did not have this problem, and so it was more convenient for everyone involved if she just stayed out of the fray. 

"Check it out, we rescued someone else from Mistique," he laughed and lifted Franze's hand up to Sonya's already outstretched one. A mixture of perplexion and nervousness came over the face that blankly stared straight ahead, unknowingly, into the Austrian's. As she felt and held the thin fingers, she smiled lightly, but had no idea who it was. Itakshir didn't say anything--he'd let Franze introduce herself as far as names went, if she wanted to.

Letting go of the other girl's hand (she'd learned not to touch people's faces without asking first), she inquired something shyly in Russian, to which the Ainu laughed. "No, she hasn't." To Franze, he said, "She wants to know if you've met Cosim yet. He's a really cool guy...just don't make him angry." Despite the smile, there was not much of a joke in that warning. 

She was almost unable to speak when she weakly took the blind woman's hand. For one, she thought she actually was radioactive before. So what was she supposed to say? "I...I... Not rescued... Found my way out myself, actually... You all are very good people." It was extremely quiet. The woman she was looking at was rarely seen by Franze without hysterical tears or crippling depression. And here she was smiling, out on her own, even.

Well, not entirely. Soon after she'd been queried about this 'Cosim' character (who was he, and why was he so important to these people?) a veritable giant made it's way out of the tent and stood by the little blind woman. Franze wondered maybe if she should warn her, when to her surprise he placed a bowl of what looked like oatmeal in the blind woman's lap, setting his own food (three plates) onto an old dusty table to help her find her plate with her hands. He had to bend down to kiss her cheek, murmuring something endearing in Russian. Franze looked into the woman's bowl. there was fruit in it-- there didn't seem to be, in others'. Someone went out of their way for this woman. most likely the giant before her. She guessed it was sweet, in a way, But then again... Maybe she couldn't tell what he actually looked like.

Finally turning his attention to the other two, He grinned at Itakshir. "Again?" He nodded towards the stranger woman. "Well at least you keep her around till breakfast, this time, what, did she sleep with you enough to earn it?"

Shock crossed Franze's face. "Na!" She spoke up. "I live here now. I'm from mystique." As if it would get her pity and not a beating from the strongman.

He was leaning towards beating, though he was against hurting women (his sister wasn't, for sure). She didn't look like a freak. She was too prim, too... Normal. "Really. What did you do, there? What's your name?"

She seemed to shrink even more under his questioning. "I... Fortunes... My name...?" Why couldn't she have made one up. "Franziska...."

Cosim's face twisted into a scowl. Franziska who did fortunes. The same woman who Itakshir had met. Possibly the same one who depressed him. But most certainly the one that had passed on the frightening message to Sofia. "Itakshir, she won't stay here. Take your bitch somewhere else." His voice dripped with venom. If she had been male, she would surely be on her last breath by then. "I don't want her stinking up the place."

The weight of the harm she'd caused to people fell bluntly onto Franze's shoulders. And it was a big one. "There's more than one way to be in a prison," She replied back, voice shaking with incoming tears. She didn't deserve to be here, she knew that. She saw it as more of a graciously given second chance. Apparently, others didnt.

Cosim stepped out of Sofia's earshot to loom over the brunette. "And there's more than one way of 'death by accident'."

This was not going as he'd intended. Visibly wincing when Cosim mistook her for one of his one-night stands (though who could blame him), he was about to correct him when Franze beat him to the punch.

And, well, he was just now realizing that maybe it wouldn't be so easy for her to fit in here, after all. Slow on the uptake, as always.

Stepping around the young woman, he pushed her back gently so that he could stand between her and the colossus. Calmly, he adresssed the much taller man, "It's cool, it's cool," then, with a slight laugh, "You'd have to kill me, too, and that wouldn't be fun, right? Who would you go drinking with, then?" His tone and smile were as light as ever, but there was a deadly (no pun intended) seriousness in those crystal clear eyes.

And quietly, he added in Russian, "I talked to her first--I'm not just letting her in for the hell of it." He looked almost pleading, "You trust me, man...right?" Cosim was one of his best friends; if he didn't believe him, Itakshir didn't know who else would.

...Meanwhile, Sonya seemed to be the only one not tied up in the tension, though she did wonder why no one was talking to her (her voice was too quiet to hear over the others). Chewing on a piece of fruit, she patted the air around her for Cosim, confused where he'd gone.

Cosim had to stare down Itakshir for quite a while before he finally stepped back, just a bit. To Franze, the interaction seemed like a man taming a bear. But... After really seeing a bear there... That was probably why the shorter man was so good at it. It didn't seem to quell the taller one's anger though.

"I want to help... I... I can work." Franze offered, unsure of the promise herself.

He wasn't listening. In fact, it seemed he was ignoring her altogether. "Fine," He grunted to Itakshir. His friend wasn't the smartest. What if he had let in a saboteur, just because she told him she'd sleep with him? She could steal what little money they had. A million scenarios went through his head. None validated the woman staying. Spitting on the ground near her feet, he muttered, "Just keep your whore away from us."

Us meaning the confused woman he took the hand of as he went back to stand next to her. The last thing he wanted was Sofia to return to the person she was before they rescued her. And if she knew the former manager of mystique was there, well, of course it would happen. His voice seemed as chipper as ever but his expression said otherwise as he squeezed the blind woman's hand. "They have to go now, Sonya, they can't stay and eat with us."

This was appalling. How could someone treat her like that? (well, anymore) And she was called a whore. There was less anguish at the name being uttered than the fear that the label may have been true. Eyes welling up, and with no desire to give all of them the pleasure to see her frustration, she marched away as purposefully as she could, though she couldn't see straight, and had no idea where she was going, anyways. What did they want from her? Where else could she go, in this wasteland. She didn't know any other world. Perhaps she was just supposed to curl up and die.

"See ya, Sonya," Itakshir played along as cheerfully as he could, but his expression likewise did not mirror his tone of voice. Throwing one last concerned, slightly hurt look to his friend, he went to catch up with Franze.

Sofia waved to both of them (or the direction she thought they were in), but, figuring they'd already turned around, she said as loudly as she could, "Nice to meet you!" She had no clue who she'd just 'met'. 
Pulling his hand to her, she kissed the back of it and cradled it against the side of her face as she stared straight ahead, smiling warmly. Blissful in her blindness to what had really just happened.

Itakshir caught up to the distressed girl feeling somewhat distressed himself. 

He habitually forgot that not everyone was as accepting as he was, but this time somehow seemed a little more shocking. Sure, he could see where Cosim was worried for Sonya, but he hadn't really given Franze a chance, in his opinion. Maybe Itakshir himself had something to do with it--if he had been anyone else, someone who was not so easily persuaded, it would have spoken more in her favor.

But then again, anyone else might have not let her in, to begin with.

Realizing that she wasn't going in any particular direction, he scooped her up (because honestly, he wasn't even sure how she could stand to walk in those shoes--maybe if he were a woman, he'd get it) bridal-style and carried her over to some stacked crates she could sit on. Setting her down gently--she was on eye-level with him now--he smiled and brushed a few stray hairs out of her face.

"I'm sorry," he tried for a grin, but it definitely just came out worried-looking, "I didn't know he would--I mean, I think he's just worried about Sonya, you know?" Seeing the tears in her eyes, he murmured, "Don't cry... I'll tell you a story if you smile for me--"

The words came out automatically, and even he seemed a little startled at himself. It was what he'd say to his younger siblings, when they were bullied for being the odd ones out.

...But was this so different, really?

Had Cosim done the right thing? Of course, of course. He hadn't incurred any immediate consequence. It was still unsettling, having Franze there. He couldn't protect Sonya from that little piece of knowledge 24/7. He would have to think of something.

Meanwhile, Franze was, in fact, having trouble walking. Her dignity would not let her worry about sprained ankles and falls, but her blurry eyes were making it increasingly obvious one of the two would happen. Of course, she hadn't banked on getting swept up. She nearly lost her breath. Before she could make any noise to exhale the surprise held in her lungs, she was put down. Her eyes found his as he pulled her hair away from her eyes.

Immediately she looked away. Usually she wasn't so fragile. She didn't want to be. But as much as she tried to shove out the feeling, it continued to sting at her eyes. Rubbing the sniffles from her nose, she looked down at her lap. "I never... I never did anything to her..." True to a point. "I'm not c-crying..." True to a point.

His offer forced a sad laugh out of her. Yet, she really did smile as she finally met his eyes again. "What's a story going to do...?"

"Stories are good for you," he insisted with wide-eyed conviction, "If you know stories, then you always own something, no matter what people take from you."

Hopping up to take a seat next to her on the large wooden container, he leaned back and browsed through his vast mental library for a moment, trying to remember a good one. Having decided, he folded his knees in to sit cross-legged (a habit, when he was telling stories) and pivoted to face her, expression lit up.

"Once, there was a man who lost his wife. So he searched for her in the hills, in the forest, and on the beach. Finally, he found a big field with an oak tree in the middle--which was actually a house with an old man inside, who had been watching the man faithfully search for his wife. The old man (who was actually the oak tree god) gave him a horse made of pure gold and told him to fly up to heaven on it and go up and down the streets, singing. So he did, but all of the sky-people thought he was annoying and smelled bad. So they told him the only way he'd find his wife was to go back to earth.

He did, and told the old man, 'I did what you said, but I did not find my wife.' And the old man said, 'Wait here--you've caused a big commotion by visiting heaven. A demon stole your wife, you see, and right now he's still staring at the sky, distracted. So I will go around him and let your wife out of the box he keeps her in.' He did as he promised, and gave the man back his wife, and the horse. 'Don't use this horse to journey to heaven anymore,' he told them, 'Stay on earth, and breed from it.' They obeyed him, and became rich. They bred the horse, until there were many horses."

In an almost jarringly unrelated-to-the-meat-of-the-story conclusion, he completed the tale with a sagacious nod, "That's why there are so many horses, in my country."

It was a strange way to end it, but that was how nearly all of the tales he knew were like. In any case, it was a silly story, which would hopefully take her mind off of what happened.

She had tried so hard to follow his story that she didn't notice her tears had all dried up.

There was a genuine smile on her face, then, as she sniffed one final time. "That's not real... That doesn't make sense." But for some reason, she enjoyed it all the same. He really was a charmer. She had always loved horses. Probably not the same kind he was talking about. "Where I'm from," She smiled almost like she was telling him a secret. "There are big white horses that can dance," Lippizaners. She remembered them someplace... Distinctly for her. A party, a ball... But shed never been the center of those before. Maybe it had been a dream. Then, with a giggle (he seemed to bring out the girl in her) "Not like people can. You couldn't slow dance with one. But they dance like horses."

She was nowhere near as interesting as he was, she realized, deciding to just shut up. But then what the tall man said crawled back into her mind. "That man... Is he your friend?" She inquired quietly, picking at the loose screws on the crate. He was frightening. And she had no idea how someone like Sofia could stand him. Even if she was blind. there had to be something wron there.

That was a new one. "If horses can dance, then I don't see why they couldn't fly," he laughed, "I probably dance like a horse." He thought about it for a moment, and corrected himself, "No, probably worse than one, actually." Another laugh. 

"What does a horse dance like?" It was genuine curiosity. He didn't honestly believe that horses could possibly fly (after all, his bear could likely have been persuaded to dance, but no amount of feathers was going to lift it off the ground), but he would have liked to see this dance. 

And then the conversation switched to Cosim--she seemed better, so he supposed it was probably safe to talk about.

"Yeah, we're really good friends," he nodded, "It takes a while for him to warm up to others, though--besides Sonya, he was all over her from the beginning." He snickered slightly, still a bit amused over the day they'd broken into Mistique (well...besides the parts that had been disasterous). It seemed pure-hearted people had a better chance of bringing out the friendlier side of the giant--not that Itakshir realized this about himself or Sonya. 

"He's really a good guy, but for some reason, I think people are scared of him." He didn't really see it, except maybe for the anger-management issues. But that was something one only really found out after getting to know the guy a little, so why the initial aversion? He didn't get it.

"Maybe you're right," She smiled at the thought. "Maybe the reason we never see them is we don't take time to look at the sky." Well, she didn't, at least. Looking up slightly and finding it was an unfamiliar feeling, but not unpleasant, she wondered why she hadn't ever done it before. She felt small then, but not demeaned. Just... Part of something larger. Brought back to earth with his query, she laughed. "Well, it doesn't really... Not like you or me. But if you put music on, you can train the horse to tap it's feet to the music. And if you say you dance like a horse, then I could teach you to dance, too."

Of course he was friends with the angry giant-- he had become more than a friend to her, and she was sometimes overly hostile. But Sonya... Well... She didn't know what to say about that. She didn't consider the woman beautiful, and she'd only known her as a wailing mess-- an invalid. But maybe that wasn't all true. "Maybe he likes her because she can't see what he looks like." To her, appearance was all. It was the answer to every conundrum. "He looks like an ogre," she mumbled a little bitterly (she HAD just been threatened by the man), picking at a small splinter of wood on the crate.

He grinned at her looking up at the vast expanse of blue, as if for the first time. "You should look at it when the stars are out; the doctor will let you use his telescope if he's out in the fields, you know. I'll show you, sometime, but--" Taking her hand, he coaxed her to her feet and a bit away from the boxes, in the open. "Only if you show me how to dance." It was probably something he'd be okay with not knowing, really (When would he ever need to know how to dance, honestly?), but...he had the feeling that it would make her happy to teach him. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard.

He laughed out loud, and hard, when she described Cosim as an 'ogre'. "You think so?" He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling, "Well, if he does feel that way...is that a bad thing? They're both happy, after all." Of course, when relations were purely sexual, he felt like appearance was pretty important. But as far as he knew, the odd couple hadn't even gotten to that stage yet (how could Cosim possibly stand it--); it was obvious their feelings ran much deeper than just that. And in that case...well, who was he to judge? That wasn't his area of expertise. Whatever made people happy was what was best, he figured.

She was sure he wouldn't catch on to the waltz at first, so starting with something simple would be better. "It's been a while since I had someone to dance with," She smiled shyly. Then she remembered-- "Hold on a minute," Turning on her heel, she wound up one of the old grammophones that were placed around the carnival to make sure there was music on busy nights. It came to life slowly as she returned to him.

Taking his hands, she held one and placed his other one on the small of her back. Blushing lightly, she told him, "Don't just stand there, you have to move," She tapped his foot lightly with one of hers to tell him where to move. "You lead."

She was glad this took the place of the previous conversation about happiness. She didn't want to discuss what she couldn't understand. She would soon learn, though. Cosim and Sonya were the talk of the whole carnival for what they had or didn't have, what they were or weren't. Of course, neither of them knew.

((Going out of order, w/e--/SHOT))

Well, already this was quite difficult. And he hadn't even started yet.

Lead? He didn't even know what this dance was supposed to be like. He'd never seen Western dance before. ...And he was fairly sure (if the way they were standing was any indication) that it wasn't anything like the ritualistic dances of his own people, or the slow (read: 'boring'), symbolic dances of the Japanese. The music didn't help like it probably should have, either; he didn't even know how to follow it.

Shrugging, he admitted with an honest grin, "I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing." Nevertheless, he molded his hand to hers and the other to where she placed it on her back, and moved to the side a little, laughing at his own inexperience.

He had to keep an eye on the ground, so that he didn't accidentally step on one of her much daintier feet--subsequently, his gaze caught her shoes again. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore; he had to say something. Leaning forward just slightly, he murmured into her hair, "You know, I hate to bring it up, because you're so beautiful, but... Don't you worry that your clothes will be ruined here? And your shoes...the ground is so uneven, even in the tents--I'm afraid you're going to get hurt." When it came down to it, that's what it really was: he was concerned for her.