To be Without [Versailles/Private]

((This is in the woods outside Ragtags, btw, not, in Ragtags.)

This was a far way away from Mystique. He left early in the morning, before the others, just to drive away- and somehow he ended up here. Some little forest, he didn't know what was nearby. But, when he passed these woods, he knew he wanted to be here.

But why was he here? Auguste had to ask himself, digging a hand through the ground to pick some small piece of earth up. Dirt had found a way to make itself present on Auguste's clothing- natural, for how he was sitting on the ground.

But he honestly didn't care. For once, he didn't care how he looked. His hair was unkempt, his eyes held deep bags, he hadn't showered since the fire. But he didn't care. Though he was with his own worst judge- the judge that he longed for more than anything to impress. He didn't need to impress that judge, now. He didn't feel like he could impress him. For he had already made his verdict. Auguste despised himself- too much. He made himself sick, almost. There seemed, in these past days, that there was no chance that the relationship could ever normalize. He couldn't love himself again.

He was recovering from a breakup. Well- it would normally have been easy to recover from the breakup with Crina... But when she broke up with him, she took his ego with her. When the carnival burnt down, his ego burnt down with it. His delicate ego- that he had spent so many dedicated years building up. It had vanished with half of the carnival. And there was nobody to build it up again. He was abandoned by everyone. The lifeline of his confidence was just cut off.

He didn't like being without his confidence. No, it wasn't a matter of just 'not liking'. He couldn't live without it. It was the base of his existence. He depended on it, because without it, he was nothing. He was just an insecure, pathetic, petty and lonely man- an underwhelming, forgettable and unimportant brat.

And maybe that was why he was in these dense woods. Because it reminded him of when he used to be that underwhelming, forgettable and unimportant brat. He was born and grew up in this type of scenery. He was content then. Content with being unimportant. Content with living without much company and admiration. Even as he grew up, he still escaped to the woods- to hunt, or even at times, just to walk. They were a part of him- even more so than his high society, class and refined manners were. And when he needed to escape the grown up part of himself- he went back to his childhood. And he went back to the woods.

There was a case of pills in his pocket, its presence became unbearable to ignore. He took it out.

He only faintly knew why he had it. Just in case, just in case, he told himself as he took it from his bathroom cabinet. Just in case he realized that boyhood part of himself was so lost that it did not have a solution for him. Just in case he was so far gone- that he could never find his way back. Just in case he really was as alone as he felt.

He didn't know what to do. Head collapsed into his arms, he felt completely hopeless. More hopeless and more lonesome than he had been in so long.

How could one even live like this?

((This was originally going to be him searching out Franze-- :l But, I think he'll realize he wants to find her later...))

Itakshir was considerably content, these days. Really, that didn't just go for recent times, but he was content in a...different way. It had taken a long time to really accept it, in his mind, but he recognized now that he was, more or less, fully courting the young Austrian woman he'd taken interest in. And it didn't bother him in the slightest, surprisingly. Nor did the fact that they hadn't quite moved on to a more physically intimate aspect of a relationship that was normally the only part he desired. No, in this case, he felt entirely content. Content to take his time.

Because he wasn't the brightest, but he was certainly a patient man, when he wanted to be. It came with the lifestyle he'd grown up with: hunting, fishing... To live on an island that had preserved so much of the past...one had to be patient.

And he was patient now, as he stalked the large-sounding prey he'd heard in the woods. He'd been checking the traps, as was his routine every morning, when his ears picked up on the movement. Something fairly big. He guessed maybe a wild pig, but it was hard to tell. Certainly, he'd ruled out the possibility of another person; he'd never come across a human being besides himself in this part of the forest.

Low to the ground, sticking to the thickest parts of the underbrush, hiding behind trees where he could, he crept with an arrow nocked and ready in his homemade bow. Primitive, yes. But quiet, and, in the hands of an expert, more than effective. Besides...he didn't know how to use a gun.

Peering into a clearing where he guessed the rustling was coming from, already taking aim in advance, he very nearly let loose the arrow in surprise when he saw that it was, in fact, a man. ...A very morose-looking man. The Ainu didn't know what to think. So he didn't. Stepping forward slowly, cautious, but not cautious enough to realize that he could be in danger, he addressed the figure, "Hey there-- Wow, I almost just shot you by accident! Close call--sorry about that." Putting away his weapon, he continued cheerfully, "It's kind of dangerous to wander around here... Oh, are you lost? I can show you how to get back to town, if you are."

Judging by the way the man appeared, it would make sense if he were lost. Itakshir felt sorry for him--but at the same time, glad that he found him. It really wasn't all that safe out here, if one was unfamiliar with the surroundings and unprotected. He wondered what he was doing, so deep out in the woods, in the first place...

Auguste was not the only one here... And he was not the only one to be surprised at the presence of another man. When he noticed the rustling before him, he drew his head upward... And when he saw it was another man (a very strange looking one to boot.) And he had a bow and arrow as well?

His heart raced, his body jumped, the package of pills fell out of his hand, and he crawled an inch or two backwards. Were there some hostile natives to these lands that he didn't know about? And he wasn't even armed to face an attack.

But the man prove himself friendly, fairly quickly. And Auguste got up-grabbing the pills first. He patted the dirt off of himself- or some of the dirt, in an attempt to look somewhat presentable. Well- shaking the dirt off wasn't going to make him look presentable. Showering could have helped there- maybe shaving and sleeping, as well. He almost felt a sting of embarrassment upon being discovered like this, as he pushed the pills back into his pocket.

"Non, non... I'm not...." He cut himself off. He glanced to the path he came from. He had been walking for an hour or so to get to this point... He was a hunter, so he did have some natural sense of direction... but he was new to these woods. If he tried to find his way back he would have been lost.

Did he even want to find his way back? He looked at his hands, both still in disrepair- but now one was much worse than the other. And he still smelt like that fire. Being with himself was probably worse than being with others.

But still- it was so different here than in the carnival. He didn't answer the Ainu man. His eyes slipped to the ground. They were so confused- and they seemed almost hurt at the question. As if, he suddenly realized how lost he was, when in the presence of this other human.

"I don't know..." He quietly mouthed, after a minute of silence. "I... I don't know... Nobody cares if I'm missing. And if I'm dead..."

"...I don't know if I want to live anymore..." he breathed just loud enough for Itakshir to hear. He was talking to himself... But a the same time, he didn't want to talk to himself. Even if he had never met this strange man before in his life. Even if he would never meet him again. Even, if he couldn't understand him, that would be alright. Because, he just wanted somebody.

"I don't know..."

It didn't even strike the Ainu that he would be embarrassed about the way he looked--after all, what could one be expected to look like, stranded out in the woods? He was curious, though, what the story was about the dropped object he'd been so quick to retrieve. Whatever it was, he hadn't really been paying attention to it until after it'd been snatched up again. It must have been something important.

It was quickly forgotten, though, in lieu of the problems this man revealed himself to have. Itakshir found himself feeling extraordinarily sorry for whoever this person was--clearly, he'd been through some very rough times. If his words and appearance weren't proof enough, his bandages certainly were.

Seeing that he had startled the Frenchman initially (in fairness, he did admit himself that he'd almost shot him, which likely would have startled anyone), he set down his bow and arrow on the ground--though the quiver was still on his back, and a hunting knife at his belt...so perhaps it was a bit of a pointless gesture. Nevertheless, he took a step or two forward, and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. As if they'd been friends for years.

Having no one care if you were missing or even dead seemed like a horrible tragedy. Itakshir, who had always made a point of having a multitude of friends, of varying closeness, couldn't imagine being so alone. He wanted to reassure the man that there was someone back from his home (wherever that was) that must have cared. ...But what if there really wasn't? He would only be making him feel worse.

"I care," he proclaimed with an expression and a voice that indicated that he was too naive to even know how to lie, or manipulate, or be condescending, "If you died right now, I would care." From anyone else, it may have sounded at best, odd, and at worst like some kind of a mean joke. But there was a genuineness in his demeanor that suggested nothing but truthfulness. And it was true. No, he didn't know this man, had never even known that he existed until not a minute ago. But now that he felt this sorry for him, he'd feel even sorrier knowing that he'd done nothing to help.

"There's a lot of good reasons to live," he assured him, "Being happy is the best reason to live, and you can't be happy if you're not alive."

He was, at heart, a hedonist--though perhaps not in a bad way. He didn't want other people to suffer so that he could be happy; he wanted them to be happy, too. As much happiness as possible, for everyone. It seemed so very simple, and yet, it was something that many people in this cruel, unforgiving, complex, power-hungry society sadly did not think or know about. Maybe it only came easily to those who were, to a degree, simple.

That clap on the shoulder...

It was so unexpected and so... so necessary...

He had never met this man in his life. No, this man did not know Auguste as the others who spurned him away did. No- if this man had met Auguste under any other circumstance, he would certainly not care. Because in any other situation, Auguste would have dismissed this man as some unimportant and lesser being. But now- now when they were both on the same level- when they were both human, they could treat each other like humans...

At his words, Auguste hardly knew how to respond. He stared at the man for a few moments- though he thought he would cry no longer, his vision blurred once again. That was the only way he knew how to respond to such unprecedented kindness.

"I haven't been happy.... in so long..." his voice cracked, as he rubbed his hands to his swollen and tired eyes. "It feels like...like I can never be happy. There's always something...or someone..."

"I honestly don't know if I ever have been truly happy..."

Should he have been confessing this all to a stranger? This- this stranger, if he knew it or not, practically held Auguste's life in his hands. He had come here to take his life or to not... But, this person, it seemed to be an act of God. (But he knew it was not, as God had long since abandoned the sinner.)

"And I don't know if I want to go back... I'd rather be not happy than... than like this. I've never hated myself so much... for everything I've done..." He didn't know how to act anymore. He didn't know how to treat others anymore. All he had done to them- he thought he could dismiss it.

"I can't stand being near myself."

Until now. When he destroyed others he slowly chipped away at himself. He was self-destructive. When he forced himself into that loveless, power-hungry relationship with Franze- he only ended up hurting himself. When he promised Crina that she was the love of his life, and then cheated- he ostracized himself even further from the sympathy and affection he needed.

He was feeling the full force of Karma. What goes around does eventually come around.

"I don't want to go back there..."

Not back to Mystique. He couldn't handle that.

He'd never met anyone that seemed so in despair--he had to do something, he knew, but what? If he were a bit more clever, maybe he would know what could make this man better. Maybe there was some kind of food, or medicine, or something that could be said, that could ease the pain. He didn't know what he'd done, or where he came from, or why he couldn't stand himself; there was very little information to go off of, despite how much the Frenchman had confessed.

So he decided that the best thing was to do was offer what he did know.

Sitting down on the ground, cross-legged, he motioned for the other man to do the same. Such was the ritual for story-telling. It was how he'd always made his little siblings happy when they were down. Of course, their problems were a bit pettier, but...perhaps it could work here, too.

"Where I'm from, there's a story," he began, "That when God created the earth, he sent a rooster down to see if it looked good or not. And it did. So good that the rooster was unable to stop looking at how beautiful everything was. So he lingered, and didn't return as quickly as God wanted him to. When he finally did, God was angry at him for being so late, so he reached down with a hand," he made a swatting motion with his own, "and hit the rooster back down to earth, saying, 'You're not wanted in the sky anymore'. So we say that's why roosters can't fly very high."

He paused and thought for a moment, "But you know, even though it sounds like God was punishing the rooster... I don't really think it was a bad thing. If the world was so beautiful that he didn't want to leave, then don't you think he was probably happier there, anyways?"

Offering a friendly grin, he advised, "So maybe if you don't want to go back, you shouldn't. Maybe it's not a bad thing, even if it feels like it--maybe it's just a sign that...what you're doing right now, isn't good for you. You have to try something else." Whatever it was that he was 'doing'. It wasn't like Itakshir could know. He only hoped that it would make sense to the other man.

Auguste had never done anything quite like this. He sat down- as was asked of him by this almost primitive man. And he listened to his story. He had been abroad before, he knew traditional people and he knew of some of their customs. They always seemed a little stupid. To Europeans, to the people who controlled these other 'primitive' people- these sorts of traditions and folktales seem stupid. They were the product of lesser minds and lesser people...

Or maybe not.

He didn't say anything for a few other moments. It was something he had to think about.

"Everything is beautiful... but he's alone..." Auguste had been sent away from his home- punished by his father for the excessive life he lead. And then- that place he had been exiled to, the Carnival,... it had never been home. But almost. He came to rule it- and he thought his subjects admired him. He thought he was doing what was right. "When he discovered that he wasn't wanted in heaven... That he wasn't even wanted by God..."

"Even if it was for the better...It hurts so much..."

Was this how Franze felt, he wondered, when she found out that he did not love her- and when he threw her out? Probably. If only she could see him now... She would be pleased to know that revenge was had. She would be pleased to know that the real God would do much more than break his hands.

"And... I don't know where to go. I don't have anywhere to go..."

No one would accept him again. His family, he was sure, would be too disappointed- it would be better for them to just abandon Auguste in the States. The carnival hated him. His women were no more...

Franze, she- she didn't forgive him. Was that certain...?

Unless this man had some option for him- he had nowhere.

"Even if it was for the better...It hurts so much..."

He rubbed his chin in thought, "There's a saying for that...not from my language, though. In English, I guess it would be: 'After it rains, the ground becomes harder.'" Blinking, he thought it over again and laughed, "Now that I think about it, it doesn't sound like it makes sense, does it?" He smiled for a moment, then added kindly, "But maybe after a while, it will."

And if he didn't have anywhere to go, Itakshir knew just the place.

"You should come stay where I live," he said, laughing again, good-naturedly, "It's where everyone goes when they have nowhere to go to." It was so true. Practically everyone in the ragtag group was there because they had nothing else--Itakshir included. But it was perhaps part of what banded them together as a group.

Getting back up again, he offered a hand up to the other man, "Come on, I'm not going to leave you here." He almost reminded the Ainu of Franze, in some ways. He wondered how many people in the world got lost, trying to figure out why they weren't happy.

Clear, gray eyes reflecting a kind of knowledge that didn't come with education or a high-class upbringing, he reassured him as he kept his hand steady, extended, "You don't have to be alone; I'll be your friend." To him, it was as easy as that. It didn't matter that they'd just met, that he didn't even know the Frenchman's name. Kindness was not a complicated thing; it was to be offered freely, to anyone he came across. 

And this man seemed like he really needed a friend.

He'd never heard the expression before... But to an extent, it was true. There was soft mud at first- but then the ground got crustier and harder. But Auguste was never much a fan of rain. Even if it did make things easier for him- it tried to replace the sun... And Auguste would not forgive it for that.

But nature needed rain to survive... Maybe he was going to have to learn to forgive it.

"You should come stay where I live."

Auguste looked to the man. He didn't really expect to be offered a place to stay. Rarely did he ever accept charity from others- because he never needed charity from others. He was always so monetarily wealthy. But maybe, he did need this kind of charity. He was not wealthy anymore...

Would he stay for long?

He knew he had to come back to Mystique sometime. He was their leader- and he was not allowed to just abdicate his throne.... Was he? Did he want to?

That was still something he wasn't sure about.

For now, though, he was comfortable with not going back. For now, he was comfortable with leaving his car wherever he parked it, and not remembering where it was, until he wanted to remember it. He didn't have anything with him- but for some reason, that was okay. Anything, was better than the feeling he would feel when he went back.

"You don't have to be alone; I'll be your friend."

"...."

Had anyone ever honestly said or thought that to Auguste? There were always alliances and there were sexual relations- but friendship never really happened. He never really thought friendship was worth much. Friendship was a permanent alliance, and those types of alliances made people weak. When you bound your emotions with another, you gave up part of yourself to them. They suddenly gained that power to hurt you. Nothing good ever came from emotional investment...

Auguste had put too much emotional investment into Franze, into Crina, into Alex- and into the brothel. Was that why he was hurt...?

Or was it because he put too much emotional investment into himself? And he had then betrayed that friendship with himself, somehow? He still didn't know. There was so much, he was beginning to realize, that he did not know.

He accepted the hand, with his better hand, and rose up. Staring at the Ainu, again, Auguste nodded. The gesture meant more than enough. He fished for something that he could possibly say... But nothing came up...

Nothing until a final, "Thank you..."

He had never been one to use genuine words- so being genuine was always difficult. Auguste, who was so eloquent with his words, didn't know how to accept all of this. Hopefully- at least now, a thank you would do.

He flashed a toothy grin, more than pleased with the simple thanks. He could tell by the tone that it wasn't said lightly.

Picking up his bow and arrow where he'd left it, he explained, "The place I live is outside of the woods; I'm just here to check the snares. Nothing today--that's why I got excited when I heard you moving around." A laugh. "I thought I finally found some real meat. These woods aren't the best for hunting... But it doesn't seem like they hunt much in this country." 

He talked easily, as he began heading back, keeping an eye over his shoulder to make sure the Frenchman was following along. Thankfully, he'd come through here enough that there was a light trail he'd already made--no time was wasted in having to maneuver around brush and whatnot.

"By the way, I'm Itakshir," he said, finally introducing himself, "Just Itakshir." He still didn't feel any great need to adopt a surname.

As he got deeper and deeper into the woods, going at an easy pace, he continued talking (mostly for the sake of trying to keep the other man's mind off of whatever sad things plagued it), "I know you're going to like this place. We're getting so many people coming here, these days. Everyone is really great; it's like having another family." He smiled, "Well, except for one girl; I like her a bit more than family. But everyone else is like a sibling. I know they're going to be really nice to you, too."

Well, he said that... But he'd said it to Franze, too. And look how that turned out. He had a hard time grasping that not everyone was as accepting and wonderful as he thought.

It occurred to Auguste that he wasn't so sure how to continue the conversation. If he spoke like he normally did- he would be condescending and arrogant- unlikable again. And he would lose his only source of sympathy as quickly as he gained him. He had never been shy before- but he shied off from responding immediately. Even if this man was talking about hunting... A topic Auguste was passionate about. Even then, he was at a loss for words.

"Do you hunt here without a gun...?" Was that normal in uncivilized parts of the world? Auguste couldn't fathom any other possible way to hunt. Weren't bow and arrows ineffective? Could a man even catch anything with it? "I wouldn't be able to hunt without one...or my dogs..." Which was why he had not had the chance to hunt, since he moved to this country. This man didn't have any dogs either. Well, then it wasn't much of a wonder that he hadn't caught much game...

"I loved hunting with them..." And what did his family do to his dogs, while he was gone? He'd thought it over before... When he spoke to his sister, she said they were doing well.... But really, she had to say they were doing well. She knew the reaction she would get from her little brother if she said anything different. They always treated him well...

"My name... it is Auguste..." His surname was maybe too well-known... Though he was just about to kill himself, that in no way meant he was to the point of indignity where he would not share his illustrious surname. Gathering back a brief air of aristocracy, he continued. "Auguste de Bourbon..."

He wasn't sure how he was going to be fitting in... Already, he quickly realized, his name might have alienated him from his new friend. This man insisted that he was about to have a family.... The way things were organized in Mystique- there was no concept of family... Maybe in the Brothel there was some sense of family. (Except families were more often than not, platonic. Unless they were Hapsburg-- ) Maybe, he visited them for reasons other than his all consuming sexual desire, then.

"You have women there....?" He paused. Was that good or bad? That meant more temptation- temptation he was more likely than not, going to be unable to avoid. He used to think women understood him best... They used to all be in love with him... And he used to love that perfect gender so much... He still did- but their love was bitter-sweet, and it seemed unrequited.

"My last girlfriends both left me... They did this to me..." His voice was less pitiful now, it shook with bitterness, as he followed the lead of the Ainu. They broke him. Unnecessary information, perhaps... But still, the story stung... The entire gender in his eyes, had betrayed him. Or, he had betrayed the gender?

"I don't know why...." Or, he only had a brief understanding of why. It still didn't make sense to him... Had he come that undesirable?

He paused for a moment and turned to grin ruefully, "I'm scared of guns, to be honest." It was probably something to be embarrassed about, but...there wasn't much that Itakshir was too ashamed to admit. 

Tapping the quiver on his back, he added, "I grew up with these, anyways, so I'm used to them." They were not half as dangerous as guns, in his opinion. Sure, both of them shot death, but... The violent, exploding sound that guns made seemed unnatural to him... The first time he'd heard one, he'd nearly jumped right out of his skin. 

He didn't understand what made that noise, or how the things worked. He only knew that they shot rocks. But not the same way one shot rocks from a sling, no. These shot rocks into their target. Something was terribly frightening about that. Arrows were sharpened; they made sense to him, but the rocks inside guns were not even very sharp. 

(Not that he'd ever seen one--someone from his village told him this. When he'd actually seen a gun being fired, what he saw was that it made a loud noise, and some fire and smoke. And then a bear magically dropped dead, blood leaking from a wound that appeared from nowhere.) 

It was not easy to push a rock into skin. He didn't know how it worked. He assumed black magic, but...the people who used guns informed him that there was no magic.

 "I have a brother who likes taking his dogs out to hunt, though," he replied cheerfully, "I never had one, myself. You hunt, though--that's good." He laughed, "A good man knows how to hunt." From what he'd been taught, anyways. In his society, no woman wanted a husband who couldn't bring home meat. They wouldn't be able to survive.

"Auguste," he tried the word out, then noted cheerfully, "Like the month."

The surname meant nothing to him. Just another one of those extra names that foreigners had, for some odd reason.

At the question about the women, he chuckled, "Yeah, but most of them...they'll break your balls. They don't mess around." Something he'd figured out the hard way. He stopped laughing, though, with the Frenchman's next words.

Glancing at him, no longer smiling, he said quietly, "Man...I'm sorry." Sounding slightly worried, he noted, as much to himself as anyone, "Thinking about getting turned down...I don't know, it gets me nervous, I guess." Maybe it was why he didn't want to commit to even a short-term relationship. The fear of rejection outweighed any benefits--and he was sure he would be the one on the recieving end. His people were naturally rejected, it seemed... He didn't know what he'd do if Franze stopped liking him, if she got tired of him. He was afraid to know.

A hunter who was afraid of guns? How odd. Even if the bow and arrow had some sentimental value to him- it still was quite odd. Where, he wondered, did this guy come from? Was it a land where firearms had yet to reach? He didn't recognize the language of the first name. And there was no last name...

He never would have guessed that he would have 'befriended' someone like this.

"A good man knows how to hunt."

"Yeah...?" He asked with a short and unhappy laugh. "That's probably conditional..." He hardly hunted for food anymore- mostly for trophy and amusement. Women were impressed by that, yes. But that by no means, made him a good man. He was in no sense of the words, a good man. "I'm sure those who hunt with guns aren't as good." He shared a somewhat weary smile with that.

"Yes...like the month..." Hadn't Franze first said something like that- in that faint memory he had of them meeting many years ago. Back when they were both younger. Back when they were too young to unfamiliar to hurt each other. He didn't know. His memories of the past were so flawed and faint. They were better, he knew. Back in the past... times were a lot better. He was so well liked then. And it was a shame, such a shame, that that boy would grow up to be like this.

He was trailing a bit behind Itakshir, but moved quickly to get closer to him.

"One of my last girlfriends..." He raised his hands, so Itakshir could see the extent of the damage put on them. (Though one was mostly wrapped in gauze from when he burned it.) "We met up again and she broke both of my hands with her heels. That's because I tried to apologize." He laughed the same sad laugh again. Not to mention, the other bruises he had that were only testimony to just how angry his women were with him. "At least, you don't have to deal with women like that. Right?" He was sure there was no woman in the world quite as awful as Franze.

"But... I suppose broken hands are better than broken balls... So maybe you do..."

((Guh, sooooo sorry for super-late reply; unexpected vacation (I got notice just two hours in advance, I kid you not :I) + school starting = major writer's block.))

He didn't know what 'conditional' meant, and even if he did, he might have laughed. People had made the world so complicated, and he couldn't see why. Why shouldn't goodness be determined by how well one could hunt?

It certainly would have made it easier to know who was good and who wasn't, instead of making wild guesses.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw the extent of the other man's injuries, "Wow... No, I've definitely never dealt with women like that..." He didn't know such a woman could exist--unless they were foxes in disguise. Maybe Auguste didn't know the dangers of fox magic? 

Blinking, he tore his eyes away from the bandages for a moment to think. With a reassuring smile, he noted, "I don't think most women are like that--maybe you've just had some really bad luck. It'll go away, though." Nothing bad lasted forever.

Smile widening, he continued, "The girl I'm with right now...she's really smart, and beautiful--and a lot stronger than she looks." No one else would have ever guessed that the stick-thin woman could have made it on her own. But she had, and he felt strangely proud of her, for it. Looking at nothing in particular, he admitted, "I think I'm in love... Don't tell her that, though; it's a secret right now."

Pushing the last of the foliage aside, he emerged near the men and women's cars. "Here we are--ah, and there she is! Hold on, I want to surprise her--"

Going ahead, he snuck up to the passing woman (What kind of hunter would he be if he couldn't sneak about properly?) and covered her eyes from behind, "Guess what I found in the woods?" The first question was probably supposed to be 'guess who', but he rather forgot that in his excitement. Oh well, she would recognize his voice, anyways.

Franze had been trying (or, trying to try) to heft a basket of clothes that needed mending (Did no one care what they did with their clothes around here???) to her work space, the only place she could actually relax. People there had finally come to a grudging acceptance of her, and she supposed that would work. She wasn't exactly there to make friends (aside from Itakshir and the blind woman who had attached herself to Franze without her real consent--), she was there to live until living somewhere else became more opportune. She had done that job well-- no one was offering to help her. In the end she just had to move it an inch at a time.

One thought nagged at her constantly though. Itakshir wasn't going to go with her. This was his home, this was what made him happy. She didn't think she could function without him anymore. At best she would return to the unhappy person she was before, latching onto the promises of men who would never fulfill them. It was luck that she found one that would.

Which was why even though she'd basically been ambushed and blinded, she knew who it was. His voice was unmistakeable and the light streaming in through his fingers let her see the faintest tattoo ink on his palm. She dropped the basket, but didn't really notice, as a wide smile spread over her face. "If it's dead I don't want it," It should have been a serious remark but she couldn't stop smiling. Of course, she was under the impression it was something for her. Itakshir could always bs counted on to find something beautiful in the oddest places. She found his hands and placed hers over them, gently pulling them off. "I don't want to guess, let me see--"

It was for her. Apparently. Her smile dropped. He looked different, he looked dirty... He looked like he had been found in the woods. She felt tears slip down her cheeks, though her chest was tightening with rage. She had to refuse looking at the Frenchman. It made her sick. So she directed her angry, sickened gaze to the poor Ainu instead. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

She had to look at the Frenchman, just once. "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again." He looked like a mess. She took pleasure in the thought. "You go rot back where you came from. I don't care how long it takes you. Just get the hell out of here." His hands hadn't healed completely. It wasn't a sad realization at all. If she had to she would crush them both again. She just didn't have the composure. She was shaking, and crying, and trying her best to understand exactly how she felt. Betrayal, sure. Anger, yes. Sadness, why? Because she missed him? Because she missed herself when they were 'happy'? She didn't want to admit that, not even to herself.

"I have had my fair share of bad luck with women..." He admitted quietly. But they could all probably say that they have had bad luck with their man. He hadn't loved any of them. They had loved him- for some period they did. It was rather nice to hear the Ainu's love story. It sounded like something that would end up well enough. And it sounded like the woman would not make things too hard...

Or not.

No. When the Ainu pointed her out, Auguste stopped in his tracks. The emotion flushed from his face, leaving only a residue of horror. It was her. Seeing her face again, in a place like this- he took a step back, as if he was afraid that she would attack him and injure him like she did in their last meeting. She looked different. Bad. Was she working? She was this woman that Itakshir was speaking of....

His vision rushed towards the Ainu, as she recognized Auguste. The Frenchman looked for some kind of explanation out of his simple friend. Betrayal and hurt were just as obvious in his eyes as they could be in Franze's. Why was he brought to her? Again? Was this some way of punishing him even further? As if he had not suffered enough. He thought he was at the lowest point in his life... But seeing Franze here, seeing Franze now- he realized that his life could get worse. She was his humiliation, his wrongdoings, his sins, personified.

But she loved him. She told him that she hated him. She told him that she never wanted to see him again. But she also told him that she loved him.

He stared at her, inhaling sharply as to calm his unusually volatile emotions. Again, like when conversing with Itakshir, he was in that uncomfortable and strange state of being where he had no idea what to do or how to respond. He was scared of her, for once. Itakshir, was he just one of her puppets? He imagined he had lost this house and this friend as quickly as he had earned it. He was stripped of that very slowly recovering confidence, and stripped of that very shoddy security. Franze always found some way to destroy him.

"What...?" His voice was soft, it remained soft- but barely so, as if one more pushed emotion would leave him screaming. "Where the hell do you want me to go, Franze....?"

He was angry at her, horribly angry. And sad as well, horribly sad. He realized he was crying again. He wanted to hit her. He could have. He could have punched her in the face. He could have thrown her little body to the ground. He could have crushed her. And he could have even killed her. But as he moved closer to her, as he measured his body against her, in some hopes of making her feel threatened- he did not raise a hand or a fist.

"You can have Mystique back! Take the fucking place back!" His tone did raise. "I'll kill myself if I have to return!"

"God...I'll kill myself." None of the emotion left his voice. He was overwhelmed by even more emotion- and that emotion took away the volume. It came out as a sad and angry and even scared whisper. "I will."

Poor Itakshir had unwittingly put himself in a very, very bad position. Even an intelligent person would have likely found themself considerably confused. Unfortunately, he was too dumb and too surprised by the change in the mood to realize the relationship between the two, and that if he wanted Franze's favor, he should have sided with her.

As it was, all he could see was that two people who had just been mostly fine were now suddenly extremely upset. And he had no idea why.

First priority was, of course, Franze. Quickly turning to dab at her eyes, bewildered, he tried to soothe a wound he couldn't see, "What's wrong? It's okay, he's not dangerous or anything. He was just lost, and--" He was about to explain how upset Auguste was, and how they should be nice to him, but... Auguste made the point rather well, on his own.

Gripping the Frenchman by the shoulder supportively (not quite catching the threat in his movements), he attempted to calm him, "No, it's going to be okay-- We're not going to let you die..."

He didn't know what to do, so he decided to go along with how the situation should have progressed, had this unexplained anger not erupted out of the blue.

Taking Franze gently by the hand, he introduced the man whose shoulder he was still firmly keeping steady, as though they'd both not implicitely implied that they already knew each other. Perhaps he still hadn't processed it. Or perhaps he had. "This is Auguste," he said, looking to her, speaking in a very measured, careful tone, "I found him in the woods; he's feeling really bad right now, and has nowhere to go. So I invited him here."

Then, turning to Auguste, "This is Franze. The girl I was just talking about; the one that I like a lot." He didn't know if he was making sense or even saying the right thing; just that he hoped to dispel the tension. He looked to both of them, ignorant and unsure, but attempting to retain a positive atmosphere.

"Let him die, if he wants!" She finally sobbed. "No-- no, because he gets everything he wants, doesn't he?!"

Franze hardly noticed Itakshir doing his best. As usual, Auguste was enthralling, whether she think herself in true love or... Whatever else this was. "You told me you loved me-- and so I loved you! And for what. For what?! So you could take everything from me?!"

She was shaking too badly-- there was no way she could just stay there. Turning back to Itakshir with something between fear, betrayal, sadness, and pity, she choked out, "Please understand... For once... Please. I... I don't think I want to see you until he's gone." And she pushed past him as if he was a door, wiping at her eyes enough to not be noticed when she went back to the women's car.