She is the One...
When did that little church boy, Only, get the chance (or the time) to make friends with such a pretty-pretty-pretty --
I am Florentine,
She is as radiant and as sweet as a summer-ripe peach, as polite as a sunny pink flower. He wonders if her mother knows how poisonous Florentine truly is? He wonders how something like Florentine (yes,
something) can even exist in a world that he himself is a part of. She is made up of finite components that he feels are other-worldly, one sniff of her and he feels light-headed and weak-kneed as if he's been hit with smelling salts.
He hates it.
That was quite rude,
--sorry. An out of character apology jumps from his mouth in response. It is an otherworldly response that goes unmarked in Stephan's sense of awareness. He continues on, a flower manifests between them and again - he takes it with nothing but empty thoughts. Only reaches his hand through and takes what he wants without Stephan feeling him slip by. Later he will wonder what happened - if he is even around to discover the totems inside of his sunshine hair.
Why? He'll ask later.
Because, Only will say.
And that will be that.
Only's weaknesses are Stephan's weaknesses. He ought to get rid of her is what he should do. Stephan is at a loss for words - he has no plan - he has no
idea what he should even do with this surprise that has is as wonderful as it is horrible. His mind stalls as he lets the air deaden between them. He cannot remember taking her flower just like he cannot remember apologizing to her for taking(
tearing) a piece of Florentine from her herself. Sometimes Only comes in flashes the way lightning strikes at the darkness, so quick not even Stephan can catch it. For all of Only's bad luck he is still slippery - so slippery - not even Stephan can catch him at his great escapes.
Florentine seems to Know enough to keep herself safe - she asks him questions that strangers often do not ask but she Knows him. Christ Almighty and the Heavens above - she Knows him. How Only could keep such a secret for so long is a mystery to the midnight killer. He must remain calm. He must maintain control over this situation. Only, that bench warmer, he shouldn't be allowed to see the light of day again. He should stay in that basement forever, starve, and die.
She asks him about knives - her knife - and instantly his attention fixates on the beautiful blade she wields before him. A flicker of a smile adorns his too-serious face, those jackal eyes light up like lanterns as he grins handsomely at it - at her.
"I did not name my first knife - I would have kept it if I knew then how much I would like it now. When I was a kid, I didn't know any better. If you can time travel - you should go back in time and tell that little boy that her name was Claire."
His mother, of course.
He thinks of her other answers - he wonders if she knows Only better than he does (she must! for she is too-too trusting of a man she should fear) - what will she say when he tells her the truth?
What does Stephan know of that Only kid?
He's a road block, for starters.
- a real chastity belt, that guy.
"I have mistaken you for someone naive, clearly you are not. Although I must ask you - when you move through time - have you ever been anything other than what we are now? I am not what I once was." He admits as she starts to move past him. It will not be that easy to walk away from him, Stephan's interest is piqued for both the better and the worst of reasons.
He considers her a threat to the security he tries to maintain and because she is unafraid of him. Florentine and her pretty-pretty wings move past him and into the channel which leads to the trees. The gone-girl has been carefully put to rest but Stephan moves with all the slink and slither of a snake beside her- eyes like lanterns in the dark as they peer knowingly into the deepening night in hopes that they will simply walk past the heap he disposed of just hours before.
"You may find it hard to believe but you are almost impossible
not to follow. I thought you were someone else I knew from before. Not from here - from the Rift where we came from. Where
I came from." That is when Stephan realizes that this is the honest truth coming from him and
damn Flora for drawing out the rats - his rats. He goes tight-lipped and quiet with a soft hum of thoughtfulness when he remembers that seeing Florentine made him think of ghosts.
Faida, Only whispers when he feels a familiar memory - a shared one - glow with acknowledgment at the back of Stephan's mind.
Astarte, Stephan argues behind closed lips. He remembers her. He remembers her last words to him.
May they meet again. He considers it a promise she is to fulfill. He dreams of her until those dreams turn into nightmares. Until white turns red. Until hot becomes cold.
Ice cold.
"She gave us this." He moves in a way which brings attention to the hideous scar on his neck - he'll never forget Astarte just as Only will never forget Faida. One red and one white horse, one memory-one horse. What Only knew of her, Stephan knew differently, and the two ideas of that same creature continued to haunt him beyond the sick, sad world he had met her in.
"Name your blade carefully - " he clicks his tongue, his ears turn inward so that the very fine tips of them touch (a very Only move that he is unaware of) - and finally he finds the words he'd like to say, "- it suits you, you are as beautiful as the knife you carry but I am sure Only has told you that. The way my heart beats makes me think you have known each other for some time, now." The kindness inside of him goes out like a candle facing a fierce wind and Stephan has nothing else nice to say to her as they walk and walk and walk.
They walk until the water becomes soft land beneath their feet and the tangle of trees surrounds them. Stephan cannot help but steal glances of her and feel that the tightness which flutters like panicked canaries in his chest is Only trying desperately to wake up. He insists on it, for Only squirms and squirms and squirms in the dark until the chair falls over and he can slip the ropes off of his wrists.
Music filters eerily through the trees on the shoulders of a crisp fall breeze - far far away a pagan saga continues without its Emissary and Stephan finds it a fitting moment to tell her.
"-you should go soon Florentine, you might be missed."
. . .
‡
