Closed Running into the Past [Meville]

[Lorelle]

Lorelle is unconcerned by the thoughts that the other skaters seem to feel the need to express. She just focuses on Meville, trying to help him up but at the same time not go down herself. She feels unsteady and it takes her much effort to stay on her feet. The touch of Meville's skin against hers brings back the onslaught of memories. All our foggy and confused, but they are brought back and the contact of his skin against hers is what triggers it. It is unpleasant to say the least, but Lorelle tries and stops herself from openly expressing her distaste. She just buries the memories inside, wanting them to go back in their places in her memory that she doesn't think about often or really, ever.

Lorelle is unfocused when Meville begins to slide back. She feels a tug on her arm and is surprised. She feels her body being pulled forward and she can feel her body warning her that she may just fall. In haste, she focuses her mind as she somewhat firmly plants her feet in the ice. She stays up, but just barely. Multicolored eyes look up at Meville when she hears his soft giggle that is followed by a collection of words. Her lips, despite almost being knocked over or at least feeling like she was going to be, break into a smile. She nods her head. "Yeah, me too," she agrees.

Lorelle sees his wink before he let's go of her and starts off to skate around the lake. Lor just rolls her eyes before letting out a soft laugh and following him. She rounds the lake with him, but she isn't really with him. She is more behind him but to the side. She isn't completely focused and a good handful of times is almost knocked back down to the ice her feet so ungracefully glide upon. The female Vantha is so focused on herself she doesn't even notice Meville till she looks up by chance and sees his display of very strange motions. Her eyebrows just knit together in confusion as she watches him make his way to the side of the lake. She watches him sit down and debates going over to him and seeing what is up.

She doesn't go over at first. She first continues to skate and looks every once and awhile to see what he is doing. He was laying down. Lorelle notes mentally that such an action would probably be uncomfortable for someone without a gift from Morwen such as herself. Though she isn't sure whether or not Meville has such a gift. She doesn't think so since he isn't a Vantha, though she knows she could be wrong. She doesn't know if his parents asked for him to get one when he was a baby or if he got one during his coming of age. She isn't sure how all that works, but she does know that those are the usual times for a person to get such marks. At least that is what she has learned.

With such thoughts in mind, Lorelle decides that she should go over and see what is up with the blonde boy. She isn't really worried per say, just curious. Very curious.

She slowly makes her way over to him, noting that he is now sitting up. A roll of potential questions shuffle around in her head. She wonders which she should ask that wouldn't make her sound rude or intrusive. The most pressing matter on her mind is 'why would he need a break?' Personally, Lorelle isn't really all that tired. She is sweaty and her body is soar and she knows it is going to be really soar tomorrow but she isn't really tired or in need of a rest. Uncomfortable would probably be the best to describe how she is feeling right now. Nonetheless, she skates over till she is sitting in the bank next to Meville. She breathes softly, but her breaths are longer than normal as she tries to get more air into her for need of it from being out of breath. She looks over to Meville and gives him a soft smile when she catches her breath a bit.

"What's up?" she asks, "Why are you sitting over here and not skating more? I mean I guess it could get somewhat boring or tiring, but someone of your build and age should be able to go a bit longer without needing a break. Right?" She asks as though it is a question because she actually doesn't know. She is suspicious that she is correct, but she doesn't know for sure if she has her facts right. "So what's going on? Is there something I should know?"

[Meville Brightshade]

It was comfortable to sit next to Lorelle in semi-silence as the two of them caught their breath. Her's was recovered much more quickly, which was understandable, so she made the decision to shatter Meville's comfort with some very keen questions. Meville turned to her with a wide-eyed look of surprise. Most of the time, people just sort of laughed off whatever he did, his physical shortcomings being no exception. Lorelle, however, had no issue stating how very strange it was someone like he would have such difficult with something so trivial as ice skating. His face quickly broke out into an easy smile, though there was a still a slight glimmer of confusion that hung around the corners of his eyes. He hadn't expected such acuity, but that had been his own mistake. It had been a couple years since they'd last been together, and even then she had been rather quick to notice just about everything. He didn't doubt Lorelle had noticed his surprise at her questions, so instead of ignoring it, he addressed it with a chuckle. "I forgot how straight forward you are." He leaned back slightly, resting his now rather soggy elbows against the snowy embankment. "Normally someone like me be fine. Would be, that is." He gave her a little shrug, trying to get his breathing under control so he could better sell his nonchalant demeanor. "It is nothing serious, but I sick. Er, I am sick... In a way." He squinted slightly, trying to find the words to describe his disability. "I'm... Weaker than I look. Something like that." Meville laughed a little at that, shaking his head side to side. "It is not something to worries about. You will not get the sick." He had no idea what the word "genetic" was in Vani, so he figured he'd try his best anyway. "It is more of a... family sick." Though his tone was filled with his usual chipper bounce, it was fairly apparent by his breathing and muted movements that Meville was much more fatigued that he was letting on. If he'd only been a little more conscious of his energy, he'd have been able to go around a few more times. Meville gave Lorelle a bit of an apologetic frown. "I guess I am not really much of a skater after all." He sat up once more, shaking the snow from his sleeves and taking a deeper breath now that he had begun to regain a little of his composure. His eyes still followed the bobbing figures of the others who skated on paying the two on the ground little heed. It seemed so very peaceful. He grinned, thinking how very deceiving that appearance was. Ice skating had the potential for fun, but the learning curve was high enough that it required a lot of effort to be put in before it would be anything very enjoyable. He turned his attention to the Vantha woman beside of him, his grin failing slightly. Wasn't she a lot like ice skating? The two of them were having fun, or at least he thought so, but there was a rather steep climb for them as friends to overcome their mistakes of the past. For Meville, the whole thing wasn't really that big of a deal, except for that fact that it was for Lorelle. If she saw their little escapade as some daunting impediment in the way of whatever sort of friendship they might have, it only made sense that Meville saw it that way as well. Unlike Lorelle, however, he was entirely unsure how to go about fixing it. For him, avoidance tended to work best. For Lorelle... Well, it seemed as though avoiding things wasn't working out very well for her. He hadn't been so blind as not to notice her slight reaction to his skin against hers. While he was struggling in a physical manner, it seemed Lorelle was in a mental wrestling match with herself. "I think... I am good now." Meville gave Lorelle a "thumbs up" as he pushed himself back to his feet. He felt a little light headed, but as long as he kept it a little more controlled, he was fairly certain he'd be fine. "All good?"

[Lorelle]

Lorelle is slightly confused. He didn't seem very sick the last time she saw him. Now though, he does. He seems tired. She wouldn't be surprised if he was worse than he is letting on but she isn't really sure. He says it is a family sickness. A genetic problem. That is believable, but Lorelle hasn't heard of many diseases that make a man like him physically weak. To be fair though, she hasn't heard of many sicknesses period. She isn't a Whitevine and she doesn't work with medicine. In fact, she pretty much stays away from the sick as much as possible. She likes staying healthy and doesn't really enjoy putting herself in the position of possibly contracting something that will land her in the healing center.

"Your sick?" Lorelle asks, her words sounding as if she is just testing them out on her tongue and seeing if she likes the taste. She doesn't. It doesn't seem possible. He is to ... bright and happy all the time. "What kind of sick?" she asks, a bit confused. He said it was a genetic disease but he didn't say what kind which is somewhat infuriating. She likes hearing the whole story with all the details, not just the outline. She is ready to demand details when her attention is drawn to the lake for a chime. The skaters all seems so good. It is hard to think that the action of skating can be such a hard one to learn. She sighs, suddenly not caring so much about Meville's "sickness". She has enough to worry about without another thing on her plate. She let's the questions hang in the air though, still wanting to know the answers if he is going to give them.

"I guess not, though not everyone is. I wouldn't have suggested coming here if I would have known you were going to get so tired," she tells him when he muses about ice skating not being for him. She sighs, continuing to look at the ice skaters as she leans back with her elbows in the snow. It isn't cold for her. Well not as cold as it is to the average person. She welcomes the cold, liking it instead of hiding from it. It feels good against her skin. She wishes she could remember her trip to Wind Reach from so long ago better so she knew whether or not she even liked warm weather. She doesn't think so but she doesn't know for sure if that is true. She wishes she did. For awhile now she has thought about leaving Avanthal for a little while. She wants to go see some other places, but in truth she is a bit fearful of anywhere besides Avanthal. She loves it here. This is her home. She isn't sure if leaving it, even for a short while, would be a wise decision.

Lorelle is brought out of her mental wonderings when she hears Meville pronounce that he is good. The female Vantha looks up at him and nods. She stands up, balancing herself on her blades in the snow. She looks at Meville, her expression somewhat soft but also a bit concerned with her eyes mutlicolored. "Yeah ... I'm good," she replies before adding, "You know, we don't have to stay out here and skate. We can go inside and sit with the others if you are tired. I mean, we both already have enough bruises for our bodies to be soar for a good couple days. We don't need to gather anymore unless you really want to." This is weird for Lorelle. She doesn't usually express concern for other people. She usually just doesn't care. For some reason though, she is showing it now. She will never admit it, but some small part of her cares for Meville in the way that she doesn't want to see him hurt really. Unless it is by her hand that is. Otherwise though, no she would rather him be out of harms way. However, it seems this so called sickness isn't like that.

A sigh escapes her lips as she waits for his reply. She continues to look at him, scanning over his body. He looks normal. What is that sickness? It is nagging at her and she doesn't like it. She doesn't like the fact she is concerned about it really. It feels like she is showing weakness. Being concerned for the person that she blames the lowest point in her life on. It is annoying and she wants it to stop. The sooner the better.

[Meville Brightshade]

Well then. If she offered, Meville wasn't so selfish that'd he'd refuse something to gloriously tantalizing as a respite from a surprisingly dangerous activity such as ice skating had turned out to be. Unfortunately, the offer she gave him came with an unspoken (even un-implied) price: answers. It made him a little bit uneasy that she seemed rather stuck upon his patchy excuse for what ailed him. She was, as he now would never be able to forget, a deceptively tenacious young woman. While she wasn't exactly grabbing him by the head and shaking him about screaming that he must divulge any and all information regarding his supposed "sickness", Lorelle wasn't going to take his attempts to drop the subject without putting up a little passive fight of her own. Meville couldn't decided if it was endearing or just obnoxious, but for the sake of continuing to enjoy their shared time together, he decided it was best to chalk it up to their tentative friendship. It was easier to cope with it that way.

The other thing about her now that struck him as surprising was her concern for him. Albeit, she didn't fall head over heals to try to make his life easier in any way. It was much more subtle than that. She took steps to conceal it, but when he'd presented her with a situation in which he was at risk, it surfaced rather quickly. He hadn't been expecting, so it did take him slightly by surprise, though not enough for it to show on his face. At the very least he had assumed once he told her he was feeling well enough to continue the activity they had come all this way to participate in, she'd brush off his little fit and happily return to skating. When she'd instead both expressed concern over his condition and given him the choice (with a heavy leaning towards rest) to return to the lodge, Meville could only give her a slightly confused look at first. "Well I-" No. He wasn't about to pretend skating was the most enjoyable thing in his life. "I have enough bruises, that's true." Meville's chuckle was slightly subdued as his thoughts took the lead in his mental facility's never ending race. "I will not bore you, though."

He let out a little sigh, taking wobbly steps back towards the lodge before she changed her mind. "I do not know if you remembering my father?" Meville bit on his lower lip slightly, turning his body so that he could comfortably explain to Lorelle a bit more about his ailment as they headed back. "Not that you meet him, just that he used me for... Research." It was, more or less, the truth. Meville was doing his very best to elucidate on the aftereffects of leeching without actually telling Lorelle that he was, in a sense, a practitioner of the mystic arts. It wasn't as if he were a reimancer or some power crazy alchemist, but Avanthal wasn't really the place to just go around letting other people know: "Why yes! I do use magic! In fact, my particular branch of it drains the Djed straight out of other people so I can use it against them! Not only that, but its side effects slowly destroy my physical body! Fascinating, right?" Even quickly playing in his head, Meville couldn't help but shudder at what kind of response that might elicit. Usually, Meville said what was on his mind without giving it much though. Magic, on the other hand, was an entirely different thing. It was taboo, dangerous, and not to be handled or discussed without consideration for what others around him might do or think. Strange that he would suddenly have to exercise his rather weak self-control the moment Lorelle decided to be a bit compassionate. It was a bit ironic: they brought out sides of each other the other wasn't sure they had. Ironic, but bothersome.

"He was also sick, but he thought..." Here, Meville really didn't know what to say. It wasn't that he didn't have a lie lined up, but rather he actually had no idea what his father had thought. The majority of the man's notes were nothing but illegible scribbles that, when deciphered, meant absolutely nothing. Meville assumed his father had been researching a way to avoid the side-effects of leeching, but there had been absolutely no evidence to support his musings. "Well, he thought he might find how to fix the sick somehow." It was a plausible reason. In fact, it was not only the most likely but also the closest to the truth. At this point, Meville figured as long as he didn't actually talk about the magic, everything else could be on the up and up. It was easier to make a lie by leaving out a couple details than just making the entire thing up. When one employs the use of partial fact, the illusion of truth is the result. Or, at least, some version of that illusion.

"In the end, though, he could not fix it." That was about the gist of it. Meville sighed, shrugging his shoulders slightly as they neared the lodge. "He... gave me? No... Put. He put the sick in me. So now I have it." He grimaced slightly, as he realized he made it sound as though his peculiar disease was somehow transmittable. It certainly wasn't the case, and he'd already stated she was safe. He figured it would be enough, so as they started climbing the few steps up to the heavy doors of the lodge, Meville continued. "So the sick is like... When I play hard, I get sick. I am weaker, that is." Gods it was frustrating to try to explain in such simple terms. A flashback to his complete butchering of the Vani language during the first conversation he had had with Lorelle came to mind. It helped relax him a little bit, enabling him to continue as they entered the warmth of the lodge. "Some days are bad, some days a good. It is..." Meville chuckled at his own ignorance. He wasn't sure what the word was in Vani, so he just said it Common, hoping she'd understand. "Erratic."

Now that they were inside, Meville moved towards an especially appealing couch and threw himself upon it with a satisfied sigh. He'd shed a bit more light on his current condition and, given the circumstances, he felt quite relieved about it. There wasn't really anyone for him to talk to about this sort of thing, so even if Lorelle only knew a half or three quarters of it, it was much more than anyone else know. He spent most of his time asking other people about whatever it was they were interested in or struggling with. It was refreshing to be on the sending end of things, but Meville couldn't say it was comfortable. While he was fine for the moment with being a bit more open, he wasn't about to convert into the bleeding heart archetype. He offered Lorelle a smile as she took a seat beside him (though with a good distance between them to explicitly denote the fact that, unlike many of the other pairs, they were not, by any means, romantically inclined). "Does that help your questioning a bit?"

Common | Vani

[Lorelle]

"Does that help your questioning a bit?" How is that a question he can ask her? Lorelle can't help but wondering what is going on through Meville's mind. The whole way they were walking up to the lodge, Lorelle was just getting more and more confused. True, she wasn't completely focused on his words as she was trying very hard to stay up on her feet and make it to the lodge without falling. She did reach her goal. Just barely though, she half fell only to catch herself before landing in the snow. She had been relieved when they reached the lodge and she was able to take her shoes off, which she did upon reaching the door way. She left the skates at the door to return later and she walked over to where Meville was and sat a comfortable distance away from him while still being beside him.

Now that she is sitting down and slowly, mentally, putting together the pieces of what Meville has told her she realizes that he really didn't answer her question. She asked what kind of sick he was and he answered with something about her father and some word in common. What did he say? Ratic? No, that doesn't sound right. Lorelle looks confused as she tries to figure out the word. Erratic? That sounds right, but she doesn't know what it means or how to translate it to Vani. She sighs before looking at Meville. She shakes her head at his question. "Truthfully? No," she says rather bluntly, though how anything sounds blunt or rude in her native tongue she isn't sure. It must be something more with the tone rather than the actual words being spoken. Yes, that sounds right. It is all about tone. It's the same thing with singing. But that is beside the point. It is completely off topic. "I have no better idea what this mysterious sickness is than I did when we were sitting in the snow."

She sighs and looks at her socked feet. She puts them on the wood floor, water dripping from her pants with the warmth in the lodge. Her hair is wet too, well the ends of it. She takes the mass of locks in her hands and starts braiding them to keep them out of the way as she thinks about what to say next. She looks at Meville, her eyes curious and a bit confused. "I would like to know what the heck you are talking about, but I guess you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable," she says, "Or if it is to personal or whatever. Just tell me this, is this something that makes you ... die? If you don't take care of it that is. Wait, is there even a way to take care or get rid of it?"

Lorelle can't help it, her mind is exploding with questions. Each time she tells herself to let it go a new question pops into her mind. "I can't be friends or even close acquaintances with someone who is dying. I won't set myself up for those emotions," she murmurs, mostly to herself. It almost sounds as if she is telling herself this and not Meville. Like she has to remind herself of this fact. Like she is in danger of becoming friends with Meville. Well, she knows they already kind of are. Their friendship is a tentative one though. Like something on a trial run instead of the real thing. She sighs, looking at him, wondering what he is going to answer her with. What excuse he has to hide whatever this sickness is. If it is even a sickness. She isn't even sure of that anymore. He could be lying completely just to get out of skating any longer. Lorelle isn't sure, but she is interested to know how he is going to spin his story. Very interested.

[Meville Brightshade]

Meville had been too engrossed in his attempt to explain that he had completely forgotten to remove his skates when Lorelle did. He'd just stood there, talking, as she removed the soggy footware and left them at the door as he hurried her along to the couches. As she mulled over everything, he seized the opportunity to remove his own skates from his chilled, aching feet. If anything, she appeared to be even more confused than before. He couldn't really blame her. It wasn't as if it all made perfect sense to him in the first place. Explaining everything without using the word "magic" meant Lorelle was only getting a piece of the already muddled puzzle.

Her customary way of presenting things in the most succinct manner was not spared upon her initial response. Meville couldn't help but grin slightly at how someone with such a beautifully melodic language such as Vani could make it seem so... Terse. Well, really, there wasn't a Common word to describe how Lorelle used the Vani language in the many different ways she saw fit, but "terse" was close enough in Meville's mind. His grin faded slightly as she continued, further elucidating that she was, if anything, farther from the answers she had at first sought. Uncertain how to respond, Meville bit his lower lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. He'd done the best he could given the circumstances, yet it seemed he'd only made matters worse. Perhaps it would have been better to avoid speaking about things after all.

When she spoke again, it was more questions. This time however, Meville was quite unable to keep his eyes from betraying the deep sadness they sparked. When she inquired if his "disease" were fatal, Meville pursed his lips as his smile completely faded. It didn't take words to communicate that the answer to that question was an affirmative, though the truth was that it was worse. The last bit she muttered to herself. He wasn't sure what she said, so instead he chose to ignore it and attempt to regain his composure. Meville sighed, his breath fell from his lips in a melancholy slump quite unlike his usual self. "Yes, I can... die from it." It wasn't entirely true, but it felt true to him. The effects of leeching with prolonged use would, inevitably, lead to a similar fate as his father. It was, in essence, death, but so very much worse. "Take care?" Meville shrugged, a bit of his vibrancy returning. "Not in that sense. I can keep it from getting worse, but I can not make it better."

Meville shook his head, giving Lorelle an apologetic smile. "It is uncomfortable, but I do owe you, as you said before." Meville was, of course, referring to the very beginning of their little outing. "It is just difficult to explain, as you have noticed." He chuckled slightly, a little glint in his eyes. "Do you have secrets, Lorelle?" He turned to face her more directly, leaning his elbows onto his knees and his chin into the palm of his right hand. "The kind you just do not talk about?" Meville didn't really wait for an answer. He knew there was at least one thing she probably didn't like talking about, and the main subject of that was sitting right in front of her.

In a way, he was trying to explain to her how difficult a time he was having. While her secret was more emotionally tied to her, his was a bit more removed but still just as touchy. She wasn't making things any easier with her incessant questions. While he figured he should be aggravated, Meville had begun to enjoy the conversation a little bit. The depressing reminder of his eventual demise aside, it was much like trying to solve a puzzle with words rather than little wooden pieces. He wasn't doing so very well, but the challenge is what made the game.

Common | Vani

[Lorelle]

So he can die from it. In the tick it takes him to say it, Lorelle knows she should be excusing herself and leaving. That she should discard him from her mind and push past it. Act as if he is already gone so she doesn't have to be around when he really is. Yet, she can't bring herself to leave. She isn't sure what it is. Like a pull from their past wanting them together at this moment in time. Or maybe it is just Lorelle's mind not wanting to leave but enjoying his company and not wanting to admit it even to herself. Yeah, that's probably it. She refuses to think of it that way though, much easier to think it is some outer force than her own emotions.

Lorelle continues to sit and listen to what he says. She is quiet, trying to figure out how he can keep it from getting worse but can't heal it. It doesn't make sense to her. How can something be kept from progressing into something worse but it can't be healed or cured? Doesn't something that can be controlled have some sort of cure? She has no idea about the fact that he is being effected by magic. Her mind doesn't put the dots together because she knows nothing of such magic. In fact, she knows very little about magic at all. It isn't something talked about in Avanthal very much. Sort of a iffy subject for most.

The Vantha woman shakes her head when Meville talks about owing her. She looks up at him with soft, concentrated eyes. She shakes her head. "You owe me, yes. But I won't force you into explaining this to me. I have a feeling I am going to feel some unpleasant emotion if I get the whole story out of you," she says. When he asks about secrets, Lorelle just stares at him. Her eyes mix in colors again. That is a hard question, but the answer is yes. Meville is one of those secrets kept from most people. So are quite a few other things. Like the tattoos on her sides, the way she feels about most things, the man she thought she loved when she was sixteen who she can barely remember for they were together for such a very short time. Lorelle sighs and nods, casting her eyes down.

"Yes, I have secrets. Everyone has secrets and they deserve to be able to keep them unless they want to give them out. I guess," she admits, knowing she would hate for anyone to work her secrets out of her. It would be like a sharp knife piercing her skin. She treasures her secrets, they are the only things that are really hers and belong to no one else. "As I said, you don't have to tell me. I may be curious but if you tell me to I will just quiet up about it," she tells him, looking back towards him. She is serious. She won't press him anymore if he tells her not to. She may want to and her mind will burn with the unanswered questions, but she won't ask anymore of them. She guesses that even Meville deserves some sort of secret to have to himself and she won't draw it out of him. Not yet anyway.

[Meville Brightshade]

"Some unpleasant emotion" was right, though Meville was uncertain as to how much worse off Lorelle would be knowing it was a side effect of a particular nasty sort of magic than the currently frustrated and confused woman who sat in front of him. She wasn't blatantly outraged at Meville's dodgy answers, but he could see she wasn't entirely pleased with them. He could hardly blame her, though it certainly was just as frustrating for him that she could not comprehend what he had been living with for the past couple years. It wasn't her fault, yet, in some strange way, he couldn't help but feel slightly agitated that she seemed so curious yet so resistant to his explanation. Had the language barrier between the two of them been no-existent, perhaps he would have had a better chance... Still, he doubted they would have made that much more progress. She seemed well aware Meville was hiding something from her. Perhaps that was why she failed to understand: her desire to get at that last little piece of information clouded her otherwise pristine deductive and cognitive abilities.

His question had the intended effect, giving Meville a slight reprieve from Lorelle's inquisitive barrage of inquiries. While she still seemed reluctant, her tone was much more resolved to wait and let Meville tell her in his own time. It also meant she expected to see him again aside from their impromptu outing. Meville gave her another, though final, apologetic grin regarding the whole matter. "It maybe best for our minds if we stop now." His fatigue still lingered about his body, silently catching at his eyelids and tongue like some drooping creature pawing for attention. While they hadn't spent the entire day upon the ice, a good portion of their time had been devoted to each other. He could feel himself settling into the cozy atmosphere of the lodge, the temptation of sleep ever more alluring with each passing second.

"I think it is good to talk, Lorelle." Meville had slumped down into the couch a bit more, slowly turning his face from hers to gaze into the crackling tongues of flame and lazily licked the charred remains of what had once been some proud coniferous prince. The sparks reflected in his blue eyes like small fish dancing in the circular pond, carrying with them each a mystery of their own. "But sometimes talk can become... Dangerous." For once, his words in Vani matched his internal monologue. Idle conversation, however benign in appearance, always held the potential for much, much more. In their case, they'd skipped straight from merriment into serious discussion: a social land pocketed with many a pitfall. Already it had served to alter Lorelle's opinion of him, though to what extent and in what way was certainly a mystery too great for a single man to solve.

He sighed, a sound much more content that the many that had come before, as he slowly moved his gaze from the hearth back to Lorelle's ever expectant face. She was so very real, so very alive. That was what he had failed to see the first time he'd met her, too flustered by her beauty and cold facade to notice not only her bright and commanding spirit, but her eyes. They were, like any Vantha's, color-shifting windows peering straight into her emotional center, but there was something beyond that his own eyes were now drawn to: the inexplicable sadness that came with life. He hadn't really noticed it until now, perhaps due to his prior query regarding secrets. Whatever it had been, it was enough to draw out her incredibly human side. It was stunning, more so than her beauty or her brevity.

In a blink, it was gone and Meville was laughing once more, pushing himself up to sit with his back more supported by the couch than the cushions. "I apologize! I thinking not just my body is tired." He flexed his toes, testing out his more radical extremities for the telltale signs of cold-related injury, but everything seemed to be in good standing. His boots were currently being held by the Coolwater woman whom he'd traded when he'd first arrived, but Meville felt he might at least give a bit more closure before taking his leave. After all, he'd been just as much involved in the initiation and exposition of their little outing. "I admit I am afraid to tell you everything about me, so might I tell you something else instead?" His face grew stern and serious as he continued. "I am terrified of starfish." He wasn't able to share his innermost darkness today, but he hoped to alleviate some of the tension with a slightly lighter, though very true, something about himself.

Common | Vani

[Lorelle]

So basically, in Meville's explaining of how talking is good but it can become dangerous, Lorelle understands that he is done with this conversation. Well all that and the fact he actually did tell her he thought it might just be best if they stop now. With nothing else to reply with, Lorelle just nods. Her eyes shuffle through a array of different colors till they settle on their normal color of lavender with a mix of silver. Surprisingly, there is also a thin ring of gold surrounding her irises showing that her happiness from earlier hasn't fully faded. She is still in quite the pleasant mood even if she isn't exactly showing it or even feeling it.

With sigh, the female Vantha rests back on the couch. She looks down at her socked feet, putting them out in front of her like a child might. As she looks at them she remembers her shoes are outside. She doesn't want to go get them and she really doesn't want to put the skates back on to walk out there. If worse comes to worse she'll go out with just her socks. She doesn't mind for such a short distance. She likes the snow. She looks over to Meville, her feet resting back down flat on the ground. He is telling her something about his body not just being tired? He isn't making much sense in Lorelle's mind. His Vani drawing her back to that night two years ago. He always seems to add letters and forget words. He isn't so bad today as her was that evening, but he still isn't perfect. Well he'll never be perfect, Lorelle knows that, but she does think he could do better. Why she is worried about it she doesn't even know. Most likely she is just trying to fill the empty space in her mind. It is soon filled though when Meville chances the topic of speech and asks if he can tell her something else instead. His question is met with a nod from the Vantha woman and what she gets is not what she had been expecting.

Lorelle's face twists in confusion as her eyes shift colors once again and turn to a greyish silver color. "What the snow is a starfish?" she asks with a rather sharp tone that comes out a bit rougher than she intended. Her face suddenly relaxes and she gives him a small smile. "Sorry, that came out really weird. But the question still stands! I have no idea what such a thing is." What she says is true, she doesn't know what a star fish is. To her, stars are the white balls of light in the sky. Fish are creatures that live in the water. She does not know of such a star that lives under the water so this does confuse her quite a bit. So she stares at him, waiting for him to explain himself. As she waits, her mind goes back to him saying how tired he is. She wonders if he wants to leave and go home. Lorelle doesn't want him to. She feels selfish and wants to keep him with her, though at the same time she is angered that she is having such thoughts and feelings concerning him. She knows as well that it must be getting late and she should probably get home and take care of that dog of hers.

"I don't know if I am terrified of these creatures that you call starfish, but I am scared of my birthday coming up," she reveals, deciding she should come up with something to say but then almost instantly regretting it. "Well no, I take that back, I am not terrified of it, but more nervous I guess. I don't know, it just feels complicated." Her eyes jump around the room as they rapidly shift colors to show her rapidly shifting emotions. They settle back on Meville as she gives him a hesitant smile. "But yeah, let's not focus on me. Tell me what these stars that are fish are and why you are terrified of them," she shifts the conversation back to him, not wanting to focus on herself. She tries to tell herself it isn't to late and that maybe her words weren't heard, but she doubts she is right. She said them loud enough for him to hear and she knows it is to late. Whether or not he brings her somewhat a fear back up depends upon him. She just doesn't want him to.

[Meville Brightshade]

Lorelle's sharp response was met with a giggling mess in the shape of Meville. She was full of surprises and this was yet another one. On top of not being familiar with the various aquatic creatures common to the sea (Meville had to admit that wasn't really all that odd seeing as she wasn't one of the Coolwaters), she'd seemed so incredibly agitated about it. Her quick follow-up regarding what she felt beneath her acidic tones only made it all the more hilarious. He had a difficult time finding words, but she seemed patient enough. Meville took the time she gave him to calm himself and slowly grab hold of his laughter and control it. During that, she seemed a bit removed from his mirth, distracted by her thoughts or something of the kind.

When he was ready to respond, Lorelle decided she'd give him a little tidbit of her own personal life. He was, again, taken by surprise with what she said next. It wasn't really the sort of thing one might say to an acquaintance one barely knew, though Meville had to admit they had a bit of a peculiar relationship. His lips frowned slightly as she added to her initial statement of fear regarding her day of birth, though she spoke so quickly he managed only the overarching idea: birthdays are complicated. There were other things she said, but that was the gist of it (something Meville had been more concerned with learning than actual grammatical structure). Her eyes flickered through colors like a multi-hued whirlwind, giving Meville the impression that poking at why her birthday might be such a bad thing might not be the best of ideas.

Instead, he gave her a little grin and chose to explain the concept of starfish first. She seemed interested in them, at least. They are not being the fish or the stars... But they are own creature? They are like little ball with legs. Sort of... Flat?" Meville wiggled his fingers so she could see. "Kind of like... a hand. A hand sticking to a rock." He shivered slightly, picturing the strange little monsters in his mind. "Also, they have bumping. Bumps? Like wart or boil." He stuck his tongue out and shook his head side to side. "They disturbing me. Creepy."

He laughed at his rather abysmal explanation for what starfish were. "Maybe your birthday will being more fun if I bring for a present?" A slight glimmer of mischief now set into Meville's blue gaze and he appraised her reaction. He didn't know what sort of things her birthday meant to her, but he knew one rarely ever truly wanted not to talk about something one let slip. He should know, after all. He still wanted to talk about his cursed sickness, but there wasn't anything else to say without making a huge mess of it. She'd taken it well enough, and now it was his turn to do a little picking of her brain.

Common | Vani