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Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2017 10:00 am
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Shiloh watched the coffee as it was set in front of him. Despite everything, the cat face was actually extremely cute, and he found himself genuinely happy at the presentation of it. Made it hard for him to actually want to drink it though.
"...Sociology?" He went from looking calm to utterly baffled as he plucked up the schedule, eyebrows scrunching up at the list of classes. He was already completely sure that he was going to fail everything. "The ********...? looks like it." His hand shook a little as he set the paper back down. "Thanks."
He looked to the coffee again, watching the cat foam as it smiled up at him. What was your secret to happiness, cat foam? At least he didn't feel like throwing up on his shoes anymore, he was calm, could keep calm, was calm. He found himself glancing around the cafe a few times, keep a lid on it Beaumont, "When... do classes start again?" He was trying to keep from looking too exasperated.
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 1:50 pm
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Melany's response was as immediate as Shiloh's. She smacked a hand over his, probably harder than was strictly necessary, and squeezed. Something oddly, blessedly cool spread from that point of contact, dulling the magical impulses in the same way as anesthetic dulled nerve response. "Be careful," she snapped, and for a moment the angles of her face went eldritch, her dark hair seemed to absorb all the light in the room. There was lightning in her eyes beneath the vantablack of her hair.
Then that moment was gone. No one seemed to have noticed. The cafe continued to trundle along. Matching crepe suzettes were set down before them, the candied orange supremes glimmering invitingly in the light.
"Don't play with your food," she said. "Since when do you grow flowers?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 6:53 pm
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"I-I?" Shiloh was absolutely shell shocked, panic evident. Melany looked human, but whatever just flashed by, whatever that was—
His hand flinched in a light tug, but it remained under Melany's touch. Terror was etched on his face. That was her. That was her. He couldn't hide it anymore, not after that, even if it was brief—a snippet—her.
Don't make a scene Beaumont, don't make a scene, "Court." He said in a hushed, rushed whisper. "Court—that doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" He was searching her face for any sort of expression, biting his lip, willing something out of her, anything—a clue to what the hell was going on, why they were here like this, what any of this meant. Being in court meant being removed from the cycle right? How could Melany be anyone different? it didn't work that way, did it? Or didn't it?
"I—I'm sorry, I—" His hand was shaking, but it had never really stopped, "I have to—" Have to what? He couldn't get the words out. His memories of being a tithe ripped him apart in ways he couldn't even start to describing.
Christ.
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 7:55 pm
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"Have to go, ********, I don't know—"
He took a deep breath, writhing in his seat, fighting the urge to bolt. If Melany was wondering as to why he looked so exhausted lately, this might be a window why; Shiloh was prone as ******** to stress, but he usually kept he panic under a tight lock. Anxiety attacks weren't something he experienced frequently.
"Your face, it—" He stared at his hands—anything to keep himself grounded—"You think I'm crazy don't you? You don't know, don't remember—"
Another deep breath, though this one wheezed. He was trying to keep it quiet, trying to keep others from looking at their table, god for ******** bid.
"Or do you?" His voice was rough when he looked up at her—looked absolutely broken—with something caught between fear and hostility and pain; the sort of look a friend probably shouldn't give another friend. How can you trust a friend who's only ever hurt you in the past, their inherent fault or not? Either way, he was pretty sure it was ruined now, but that was the last of his concerns.
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Posted: Sat Jan 21, 2017 6:30 pm
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"You don't?" Because he was pretty sure he was crazy, absolutely one-hundred percent sure he was out of his goddamn mind, because in no other instance could he be sitting in some cafe venue with Melany of all the goddamn people. He took a deep breath, looking at her gestures, following her glances to all of the other people present. Public, right. Composure. Get it together Beaumont.
He breathed again, still shaking, but not necessarily on the verge of hyperventilating. "It—I'm fine," He said this out of necessity. He was fine because he had to be. "I'm fine, everything is fine, this is fine." How was he supposed to go about this...?
"When you touched me, I saw—I saw something really bad." He looked to his lap, voice quiet and still a little scratchy, "It reminded me of something really bad."
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