Twenty Questions

[Csilla Angelis]

{June 2012}


The long-awaited day had arrived. Not that it had been very long-awaited. It had only been a couple of days since Csilla had shown up in Creta at Elastor's doorstep. What a ridiculous day THAT had been. It had started off okay, gotten horrible and then picked up again to end decently. A definite emotional roller coaster, and one that Csilla was glad not to be on anymore. She had been serious when she told Elastor that playing “Twenty Questions” would be a good idea. For as little as she knew about him, she also knew he knew just as little about her. And since for some wild reason, they both loved each other despite that... maybe it was time for a little more content. Because love didn't last on looks alone.

Csilla was alone in London now; Shula and Spade had gone on home or to other adventures. Csilla wasn't entirely sure. But she had a room at a cozy bed and breakfast that reminded her of her childhood home. Her heart clenched for a moment as she made up the little bed, thinking of Hatfield. She would go there. Tomorrow. But for now, she needed to finish getting dressed. She was already wearing her dark blue skinny jeans and she had her knee-high brown boots next to the door. She pulled a dark green camisole over her head, tugging and twisting until it sat right over her chest. She then pulled a faded light green button down shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned. She smiled at herself in the tiny mirror, brushing her hair and pulling it into a loose ponytail. She'd have to get a hair cut soon... it was getting a little unruly. One boot on the left followed by its mate on the right. She gave herself another once-over in the mirror before grabbing the key to her room, her wallet and her cellphone.

The London Underground gave Csilla a warm feeling in her heart as she took the tube towards Elastor's apartment. She knew that Anouk would be gone for a few hours, with the kids on some adventure. She suspected it may have been Elastor's handiwork, or maybe just a sister's intuition. Either way, she would have a few hours alone with him to get some questions answered. The doors chimed and she heard the loudspeaker share the useful “Mind the Gap!” advice as she stepped off. She was up the stairs and out on the street in no time. Another block or two and she was at Elastor's apartment building. Elevators were working, so Csilla gladly took them up to the top floor. She had a nervous smile on her face and she felt her heart skip a beat. She pushed down her stomach as it threatened to flip-flop with anxiety, before knocking on the door. Here goes nothing!

[Elastor Ito]

It was hard to believe that he had been living like this for years. It took the space being filled for him to finally realize just how empty it had been with just himself there. He felt this realization often when Nu and her children left, leaving also that emptiness for him to stare agape through. It never had bothered him before, but especially now he just couldn't stand the loneliness. In his mind, he'd question over and over again why it was that all of a sudden this change came over him; however, he already knew the answer. He enjoyed them. He enjoyed their company--their laughter. For once--finally, he had a family to call his own. Back against the cold, facing the wind, he didn't have to be that solitary silhouette breathing vengeance. He could become human--holding the fabric of mortality close, relearning how to smile and mean it. It was hard--he found it so hard that he'd lose himself in thought sometimes. Nu would call him vigorously like casting a lifeline out to drag him in from the dank recesses of the stormy night flashing in his skull. And he'd eventually answer. It was a fight--a battle against himself to peek outside at the rest of the world, the rock molding his tunnel vision slowly decaying the more time passed. We're a family again, he wanted to say, but it was impossible. Something like that... It just wasn't him. Why say things they both already knew?

But it was like waiting for something to slink along and wreck what they built back up. Sandcastle to the sea, he didn't deserve happiness. For all the blood that stained his hands, there was nothing but a reflection of rouge smiling back. His mere existence with Nu and the children brought them danger. He wanted to disappear--vanish and never been seen again, yet he remained. He couldn't deal more pain onto his sister's shoulders, watching them crumble under the midday sun, baking in the heat of remorse. Already they had been through enough. He stayed for her, locked the doors for her, tucked the kids in at night for her. Ela watched hours of mindless Looney Toons for her, constantly checked to see if anything was amiss for her, and he tried to find himself if only to hear her laugh. Typical Ela. It didn't exist anymore.

When a knock sounded at the door, his skin crawled. He was on his feet in seconds, assessing the situation. The text message conversation on his phone told him it was Csilla. She had finally arrived, and by finally he meant on time. Instantly, he felt relieved to be away from himself again, opening the door to reveal a comfortably clad man with highly distraught hair. Down and all over the place, he hadn't touched it since his shower this morning. In fact, he hadn't moved from the couch where he had been wearing a hole into the wall with his stare since his shower either. He had on sweat pants and a blank beater a relatively darker shade of grey. He looked a bit ruffled, eyes more than a little hazy. The door opened and he already didn't know what to say.

[Csilla Angelis]

Apparently it wasn't her stomach she needed to worry about flopping around. It was her heart. When Elastor opened the door, looking so disheveled and distant, her heart flipped, flopped and melted a tiny little bit. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides for a few seconds, willing down the urge to run her fingers through his hair and sort it out. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Instead of hopping on that urge to find out, she smiled. “Hey.” She also began to wonder what he'd been doing to result in that dazed look in his eyes. Like he'd just woken up from a nap or something. As far as Csilla knew, it was still a little too early to start napping, but to each their own.

She stepped into the apartment, slipping her arms around Ela's waist for a short hug. It was nice and friendly, and definitely not lingering. That would've put a rather awkward start onto the whole day. But as is well known, Csilla is a friendly person and hugs were her preferred greeting style. She stepped back then to give him a little bit more space and smiled up towards him. “How are you doing?” She figured it best to start slowly and let him become undazed before the hard questions came out.

[Elastor Ito]

"Hey," she responded to the door opening and his presence there.

"Hey," he replied immediately, stepping to the side to allow her in. She moved forward, slipping arms around his waist like ribbon around wrapping paper. Blinking wildly for half a second, he returned the brief gesture, wondering if it was Christmas already. Somehow inside that small motion, he found himself--loosened without tape, smiling with release. It was already over.

“How are you doing?”

"Fi--" Okay, he caught himself, and revising his regular leave-me-alone-and-never-ask-me-that-again response was bridging on painful. "Tired." It sounded dull, but it wasn't a lie. Sitting on the couch all day made it clear to him. Lethargic and lackluster, he was basking in the fumes of his own breath. Each intake of air, he was falling harder. Zen was missing, but he had saved his life; if only leaving him on the brink of death. So much--there was so much storming through his thoughts, that human touch felt foreign. Shivers torrented down his spine, leaving him shakily disrupted. For a distraction, he scanned the kitchen beside where they stood. "Leftover from the war--would you like tea?" He paused at the cabinet, drawing a box down. Actually, it was multiple boxes of various sorts. Being a tea-drinker, it was relatively normal to have such a supreme stash. Fingering the Chai, he looked at her with inquisitive eyes, trying. "It tastes like Christmas," the cinnamon leafy aroma reminding him of holly, silver bells, and pine. He placed a the tea pot on the stove to boil and leaned against the counter lazily. Around her, he didn't have to worry about standing straight--around her, he found now he could easily relax. "Especially with honey. I drink it plain. With milk." A pause.

"You lived in Creta before Amestris?" Elastor blurted out prematurely, hardly faltering in his resolve. Icy eyes narrowed, he pressed the question with reckless abandon, having nothing dire to lose. The day he would have killed her, they were in Creta. The explanation of their meeting made it a simple question, but those that followed on the tip of his tongue veiled it in shadow. A faint sigh escaped his lips, lungs hitching silently in rebellion. His eyes trailed away to hide the sudden spike of pain, swallowing the sputter at the back of his throat. There was so much more to this. He smiled, faintly. So much more. The tea kettle whistled. He removed it from heat and poured the steaming water. He wouldn't even be here. What was this. What was this even? A promise. He'd answer her questions, so why was he the one asking them? Curiosity had peaked; who was it that made him speak as he had? Who--who was it. Azure blue in sharp slits, he beheld her like he was staring at a specimen under a scope. What was it about her that made him so--?

Made him say that. "The country's in turmoil. We're at a loss." He sipped at his cup of Christmas. "Creta's government is strewn; I cannot venture to guess how Amestris is handling this--our failure." He stared at his hand and clenched it, looking back at her directly without shields. Flowing out of his expression was something that could only be described as suffering. The teacup was deposited in the sink and his gaze continued all the while to drift back to her like waves to the shore. "You had questions?"

[Csilla Angelis]

“Fi-- … Tired.” Csilla nodded her head. That kind of explained the dazed look on his face. Lack of sleep... or perhaps too much. Either instance could make a person tired. Then again... a person could get just the right amount of sleep and still be tired. It was one of those strange little things. Elastor glanced into the kitchen as he continued speaking. “Leftover from the war—would you like tea?” Ah! War tiredness... yes. That made sense too. Sometimes the war seemed like a distant memory, but it was still around, nevertheless. Csilla nodded her head in response to Elastor's question, even as he continued. “It tastes like Christmas, especially with honey. I drink it plain. With milk.” She gave a small laugh at that. Plain AND with milk? That wasn't exactly the same thing. “I think I'll try it with honey.” She followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite him.

“You lived in Creta before Amestris?” Csilla's eyes widened for a second or two. Wow, that was... unexpected. Dumbly, she nodded. She thought about leaving it with the obvious nod, but decided maybe a little more explanation was warranted. They had met today with the agreement to learn more about each other. “My mom was Amestrian... after my parents got married, they moved to Creta. I lived in Hatfield, outside London. They died in a car crash when I was two.” She bit the side of her lip for a moment, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her heart still clenched, even to this day. “My grandparents raised me. My grandpa died when I was 15, my grandma a few months after him. My grandma wanted me to move to Amestris... so I did.” She watched as the tea kettle released steam, indicating with the high-pitched noise that the water was hot for serving. After the water had been added to the cup along with honey, Csilla wrapped her hands around the hot mug, the heat making her fingers tingle.

“The country's in turmoil. We're at a loss. Creta's government is strewn; I cannot venture to guess how Amestris is handling this—our failure.” Csilla shrugged her shoulders, sighing into her tea. “We're having our own problems. All we can do is rebuild and keep hope that this evil will be stopped. We're all weak right now. RIOTE hit us where they knew it would be the hardest to morale... our leaders.” Csilla shook her head, not wanting to dwell on her own failure. She had let the enemy get past the blockade. What happened at Central HQ had been her fault.

“You had questions?” Csilla managed a small laugh. “Sure I do. But I don't have them written on a piece of paper or anything.” She sipped slowly at her tea, surprised at how quickly Ela had finished is. The tea truly did taste like Christmas... but he clearly wanted his Christmas a little rushed? “Will you tell me about your family?” She figured that was a good starting point. She had spoken of her family a little... maybe now he would reciprocate.

[Elastor Ito]

Honey. Stuck to the side of the cup, honey. The sweet tenderness, buzzing with that irreplaceable taste bud tingle. There was no escaping. He'd stopped adding honey after his house burned down and he'd lost everything. Including his parents. That slop of honey he'd always add with a quart of milk as a child had always left him with only a small sliver of tea. Nu would laugh at him and give him shit, but he'd never change his ways. Somehow after all the violence, being in prison, becoming vengeful... he'd stopped taking that honey. His tea cup became more full, but his mind more empty. Instead of playing with sticks and rolling in mud, the real deal was sought. His blade bloodied and a merciless mind, Ela lost that small ounce of childhood he had once frolicked through. “I think I'll try it with honey.” The taste of the church bells sounding through the night. People trailing past in long fur coats with smiles and candy in their pockets. The taste of mint and cold caress of snow--cinnamon brushed across faces meeting under holly. He saw all this...when he was young: under the Christmas tree standing while ornaments bonked him in the temple, swaying in the dances of the adults. It was a world he'd never understand--a world he'd enter too soon.

"I'll join you," he said simply, barely letting free the true weight of his words. The sheer act was something astounding to him, yet at the same time, it allowed for him to come to a conclusion. Ela was very ready for Christmas to come. With Taro and Ken, he was sure it would be unlike anything he had ever endured. He prepared the cups, adding the honey to each (perfect amount), pouring in the hot water, then dabbing in the tea bags. He handed the steaming cup to her, staring into his own like it was a void into his soul. He caught her nod out of the corner of his eye, wondering if that was all the response he would get, but she continued, telling him more about herself. In a sense, opening the door. It was strange that her life was also somewhat tragic with the loss of her parents. But she had had her grandparents take up the slack, raising her until old age took them as well. Fleeting. It was all so fleeting. A bitter smile. It made him wonder how long this would last until it too was taken from them. But she was here now. Now was what counted. "Why did she want you to move to Amestris?" His thoughts were automatically voiced, thrust through that open door, usually bolted shut. He wouldn't have asked if he wasn't interested regardless of the door. That was why it held precise meaning, his curiosity was peaked, courting around those lanky shadows.

Talk of the war wasn't necessary. To be honest, Ela found it boring. He didn't talk; he acted. When an act failed, he had nothing to go on but silence. His small attempt at an explanation hit rock bottom in seconds. Along with her sigh, came 'hope' and 'weak'. He shook his head, auburn hair tinkling along the surface of the hot liquid drawn to his lips. He took a long sip, opening his fervent blue eyes. No. It was action; it was learning; it was a demonstration that proved intellect over that failing of morale. It was them. They could change it; they could thwart it. It was them that were the movement--them that would be the good to stop that evil. Waiting around clinging to the feeble wishes of hope would sooner be their downfall than their savior. He cut to the chase, skipping over clashing opinions in favor of what really mattered. Fighting the same side also fighting was what would also do more harm than good. “But I don't have them written on a piece of paper or anything.” He laughed faintly, beholding her with his gaze. It sounded like he expected her to be prepared for a class. This wasn't a test. His head tilted to the side in inquiry. “Will you tell me about your family?” He paused. Everything about him froze. He got the question, but taken by surprise at the contents, he had no reply to release immediately.

"Uhhh...I have a sister, Anouk, and her sons, Ken and Taro." Proud he got that much out, he looked somewhat serene, prancing out of the kitchen and further into the apartment, silently offering a seat.

[Csilla Angelis]

Csilla casually ignored his question regarding why she moved out of Creta, because tea was a great distraction. Plus asking her own questions had a tendency to mask that. She continued to sip at her tea as Elastor awkwardly rattled off his sister and her children, although inwardly her mind was buzzing. Well, that kind of family was OBVIOUS. Csilla had met them already. She clearly meant the rest of his family. So either he had no idea what she meant, or he was avoiding the deeper meaning behind the question. He walked out into the living room and she followed, curling up at one corner of the couch. She kept her mug in her hands. She looked down into it for a moment. Well, in order for them to go anywhere, they would both have to go into touchy areas. Maybe if she started... he would open up a little more? She looked up at him. “Well... I wasn't exactly a model child in my teenage years. Kind of caused my grandparents' some grief. My grandma thought that a fresh start in Amestris would be good for me. Get me out of my little town and into the big world. Central was where my mom was from, so it seemed like a good idea.”

She nodded a little. That was the smoothest way of telling her story as ever. There was one secret she would probably always keep close to her chest, because she was so ashamed of it. And telling the guy she loved on their first real “talk” wasn't really going to help prove she was a good person. She looked at him, her eyes soft and her face open with a quiet expression. “Will you tell me about more of your family? Your parents? Grandparents?” She sipped at her tea, watching the contents drop to half full. Family was a touchy subject for a lot of people, but she had to hope that he would be willing to share a little more about them to her.

[Elastor Ito]

“Well..." He knew it was coming--like a train sounding its horn from the distance in winter air. He could see his breath--feel the discarded autumn leaves crunching underfoot along the rails as if frozen there by time. Trailing rubber along them, homeless across the ever-reaching expanse of wood slapped over metal. Homeless? He sighed, audibly, waiting for the inevitable to reach his ears, but instead of the reprimand he expected, he got her story. Albeit brief and to the point, it had the necessaries to understand why she did what she did. Starting over in Amestris wouldn't have been on his top priority list, so shedding light on the matter certainly helped him to understand at least a little bit about her. That, and he was secretly relieved that the incident of their meeting was not the cause of her leaving the country. So then her grandparents were no longer alive? He wondered, but the question grew stuck in the haze of his thoughts, sinking into the smog never to resurface verbally. Her mention of not being a model child in her teenage years brought on a strange inquiry to himself. Almost like he couldn't remember--didn't care to remember. But what was he like? His personality, his mentality, his behavior? Hardly could he gauge something so long ago. All he could grasp from it was suffering: bars cutting out sunlight, sneers of guards and snide remarks when he tried to brush his teeth, the mold gathering on the ceiling watching him always. Somehow he felt like his teenage years dripped by in there. Along with his childhood, he'd lost it all. A strange thing to mourn, and now of all times? The fire. The nail file.

"I was framed," he murmured, a callus look entering his eyes, expressionless detachment laced within the complexity of icy blue, "for killing my parents." Silence, he paused, watching her reaction closely. This was the more of his family, no, this was what had become of them. He couldn't tell her about them. His parents, he'd long forgotten their faces in exchange for Takatori's. On the street, he'd see men wearing white in every alleyway, hear the scuttle of gasoline barrels rolling closer--the spike of flames bursting into life, burning away the very fabric of the normal life he'd once had. He'd given up. Elastor stopped trying to remember his father's hands or his mother's cooking; he'd traded it for shadow.

"I never knew my grandparents; Nu could tell you about them though." He tried to soften his voice again, but he still sounded dejected--like he was drowning in his own words, trying to piece together an acceptable dialogue. How does one tell someone...? He didn't know. Struggling, he grasped at whatever he could, forcing himself to continue before he had to hear her ask. "Grew up in jail. Nu was in Aerugo with our aunt and uncle. She got married; she was happy. I ended our contact." He couldn't stop. "And went after Takatori's head, but I..." He played with the folds of his shirt, staring blindly at Csilla as if she were a teleprompter. "I faltered once. Because of the war, I missed a payment to MiW. They took her--Nu's kids. They killed her husband. She went after them too. I couldn't protect her from afar anymore; it was my fault. So I went after her. She didn't even recognize me--hah. That was how we met again--in the burned remains of her bar. Takatori's dead I killed him. You've met Ken and Taro. Nu still has nightmares. That's my family, and I'd abandon them again for the sake of their happiness." Halting speech, shaky words, and fiddling with his shirt all added spice to the fragmented sentences of his own story. She asked about his family, he gave her everything. With the taste of Christmas still on his breath in the peak of summer, Ela was sure of only one thing: he got it out. For the first time in his life, he spoke of the past. Was the present comfortable enough that he felt it safe to delve into history? He was there, answering a question he'd walk away from. He was there, listening to a girl he just barely knew, letting her in knowing how dangerous it was. Maybe he was asking for it--so mortally scarred that not walking on the edge was hardly walking.

[Csilla Angelis]

She watched as Elastor literally seemed to fade away. She had told her story with no issue. It wasn't exactly pretty, but it hadn't been THAT bad. Apparently asking about his family again was the cause. Either that, or he was appalled about her rebellious teenage years. Elastor appeared so lost in himself that for a moment, Csilla grew alarmed. She set down her almost-empty mug on the side table behind her, turning back as Elastor quietly spoke.

“I was framed, for killing my parents.” Csilla's eyes widened, her mouth going slightly agape. A look of horrific sadness crossed her face. She managed to close her mouth, watching Elastor silently as he spun his sad tale. He stared at her with a deadpan expression, although his voice sounded as if he was lost in all manners of sorrow. She finally understood what had happened to Anouk's husband... how Elastor had come to have them in his home. Why he had left so abruptly on their first date. Why he had viciously attacked that one-eyed man in Drachma. Takatori... that man had been responsible for all of Elastor's pain and suffering. No wonder Elastor was the hard-shelled man that sat before her. No... he wasn't so hard anymore. He looked terribly broken. And it broke her heart.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch from her, a mere full-cushion away. She slowly scooted herself over, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling up against him so she rested her head on his chest. She blinked back the tears that burned in her eyes. She was in love with a broken man. One who was willing to throw himself away for the sake of his family. It caused her heart to twist. She held onto him tightly for a few minutes, intending to pass every feeling of comfort and understanding and love that she had in her body. Gradually she leaned back, in order to look up at him, even as she kept her arms wrapped around him. “You can't abandon them; they count on you for their happiness.” She spoke quietly. She didn't want to make him angry, but she needed him to understand that it wasn't his fault. “You are not to blame for what happened... but you did make it right. You can't change the past; you can only make the future. And they need you in their future. We need you.”

[Elastor Ito]

Her horrified misery melded into the background of normalcy. He'd already known what to expect. This was his life. Ela knew how much it hurt. Hearing about it was only a surface touch of the truth he had finally spit out, but it effected her in an unnerving sense. It would have been the end of it--the end of the questions. People would've clammed up--turned away--batted their eyelashes, glad they weren't the one dealt death--glad they still had a home to return to. She didn't. He ran his fingertips lightly against the fabric of the couch, letting his eyes fold over into smoldering pools of lavender beholding her. She wasn't moving. No, she was; she was inching closer. Tunnel vision on her. His ears were ringing because he'd stopped breathing. Nails now bit into the couch, ravaging pain scrapped jagged talons up and down his chest, searing at his rib cage like it was already in pieces. His eyes lowered, almost clenched closed, yet he immediately raised them in time to find her closer than he'd ever let anyone.

Cascades of blond strands leaked down his arm, tickling the underside of his elbow with words he thought he'd never hear. "They count on you for their happiness.” Tightly wound together by her arms, he suddenly felt whole--as if the entire world had finally let him in again. They'd taken him away in binds. To a place filled with bars. Around the corner were where faces had been sneering. Banging in the dead of night. Howls of the lost. He'd never go back--back to the barren desert of ashes where beneath his parents had lain. Shirt dashed in the blood of human hate, he'd bathed in the juvenile grime of misfortune. Rainwater still clinging to the tips of his hair, he'd turned away from it all...even himself. Masked by shadow, he retained only the drive for revenge, honing the hate, and turning it into a weapon to kill. But his hands were clean. How ironic, being in a cage turned him into just what they were trying to smooth out. That incorrect accusation--Takatori's serpent-tied tale. “You are not to blame for what happened..." But it was that way. It was already that way--something in the past haunting him always. No, killing Takatori changed nothing--only prevented the same pain from happening to someone else. His failures were still there--the smell of smoke lathering over the bodies of his childhood. He couldn't remember their faces. His chin rested on the top of Csilla's head. No matter how hard he tried, they were already gone. From memory. From Nu. From this world. All that was left...was to say goodbye.

"You can't change the past; you can only make the future." A future without Takatori. No, a future here. Among children that could laugh. Alongside his sister still glading through nightmares. He'd be there where he found he could smile too--something foreign...despite its simplicity. Nearly creaking on his face like old wood, he felt it. A softness in his eyes, growing. A light feeling, touching him. Snowflakes landing on each line, slowly they were melting. A tense look, falling to ruin. He pulled in another breath. Eyebrows uncurved over kindling, half-lidded eyes, he hid nothing. "We need you.” They needed him; he had a place--a new place--a family. He pulled her away by her shoulders, loosening the grip that grounded him. His hands stayed. The first time he'd seen her was in darkness. She'd brought the light with science, but she had also brought something else entirely. Immediately, he had hated her, avoided her like the plague. Afraid--he had been afraid of this very moment. He knew she could bring him back from the graveyard. If anyone, Csilla, whose life he spared, was someone who could steal everything he wanted to keep away. What he thought he didn't deserve was in front of him--looking at him--telling him that he was needed here with them. And for the first time, he felt it might be true.

"I'm glad you came back."

[That was my lvl 3 post 8D]

[Csilla Angelis]

He had his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away to add some distance between them. For an instant, she feared that he was shutting down again... getting ready to push her away. But that soft, tender look on his face pushed away any fear she had. It seemed like a change had come over him... something had clicked. Maybe everything was finally falling into place. “I'm glad you came back.” Oh, her heart. It literally was melting in her chest. Besides a romantic version of “I love you” that Csilla had yet to hear from anyone, that was probably the most beautiful thing she'd heard. She had the serious thought to lean forward and kiss him... in fact her body seemed to like the idea too as she began to lean towards him a little bit. She managed to mentally catch herself, moving instead to snuggle closer against him. Her head tucked against his shoulder, her arms still wrapped around him. “I'm glad I did too.”

Elastor was a solid presence... someone who could protect her against the world. In fact, he had. Many times over. Yet, she wasn't some princess in a tower. She was just as capable of saving him as he was of saving her. She'd done that too. They were both warriors... although, he was more of a fighter and she a defender. They made a good team. She thought back to when she had cared for him after their second meeting. She had told him the story of Psyche and Eros... a small smile grew on her lips. A love so strangely pure, that it had to fight to stay alive. But after so many trials, Psyche and Eros had been brought together. This time in the stars. Had Elastor and her finally reached their moment? Where the poison, internal and external, would cease pestering them and they could grow in love together.

She extracted an arm for a moment, to tuck some stray hair behind her ear, before snaking it back around his waist. She glanced up at Elastor now that her vision was hair-free, and gave him a tender smile. She even managed a small laugh. “Not even four questions in, and we're already off-topic.” She shook her head. “Although, I suppose we've only asked one each... the other two were just follow-ups.” She seriously considered moving back across the couch so they could continue their little game and so she could finish her tea... but she was loathe to move. If he wanted her to move, she would notice if he stirred in a way to make space. But until then, she was staying right there. “I think it's your turn to ask a question.”

[Elastor Ito]

“I'm glad I did too." He was lucky the elevator had been in repair. Nu wouldn't have caught her otherwise. Not that he usually cared about that tiny mode of transportation in general. It reminded him of fat Cretans with beards and monocles. Lazy. Pathetic. The obese populace, chancing their lives in a vertical box. No. Just no. A disgusted look slid onto his face for a second, but he shook his head as if to dispel the thought. She had no use hearing his qualms about elevators. He took the stairs. That was it. And yeah, being on the top floor was an inconvenience when he had to bring things like groceries in for the boys, but in the end, it was worth it. It probably had something to do with watching a horror film when he was younger. One of those movies where the main character gets stuck in an elevator during an emergency. And being a Royal Guard, having something like that happen to him would be too much of a security risk. Now, however, he was having trouble with reaching the top in one go. He had to pause, catch his breath, and get over being surprised before continuing. Frailty--human frailty. Fear.

"I think it's your turn to ask a question.” What? He blinked, no longer submerged in his thoughts. Door ajar, Ela sat up straighter like a student being ridiculed for falling asleep during lecture. Not that he would know. In truth, he had actually escaped the mainstream of school due to being behind bars. Ela had done his own selective learning. He was yet to come to a conclusion of whether that was a good or a bad thing. Regardless, it was fact.

"There's more questions?" That was a question. In this sense, a paradox of a question, however, it was legitimate. He felt a frown finicking on his lips, his brow furrowing in thought. What more would he ask? He preferred finding out things on his own. He'd ask questions in time, not by force. "If you have more questions, ask them." He swatted at a few unruly bangs and muttered something about being under too much pressure to construct an adequate response. "I can't come up with anything right now." He wasn't a conversation starter. He'd just leaked his life's story, and he was feeling more than a little mentally strained. Ela just wasn't used to sharing space in his head with another person. He was also bad at prying. Hating when others tried to get through to him, he never dared pursue the story of strangers. He also just flat out didn't care. This was an entirely different case--flipside of the coin different case. That was why he was here, prepared for the worst, but already excepting the best. He suggested this, agreed to this, wanted this, yet that didn't mean he could dish out the questions just yet. He wasn't...there yet. Maybe.

"I, uh, when's your birthday?" Better than nothing? Not bad, perhaps? He leaned into her for a second, shutting his eyes with a faulty sigh. He needed more tea. Ela stood up with an apologetic look, heading swiftly to refill his mug and return relatively quicker than most could prepare the now lukewarm beverage. He flopped down next to her, brushing her side even. A nervous smile. "Fourth of July."

[Csilla Angelis]

"There's more questions?" She couldn't help but laugh a little at the frown and perplexed look that momentarily crossed his face. Didn't he realize she had said they would play “twenty questions”? Apparently not. "If you have more questions, ask them. I can't come up with anything right now." She nodded her head, willing to let him off the hook for the moment. She was sure she could come up with plenty of questions, but right now she was far too comfortable. She mused over a couple of options. Considering the heavy nature of the past few minutes, she was hesitant to break into another deep, searching question.

"I, uh, when's your birthday?" He leaned against her, and she melted. Yay! Then he was up with a look of “sorry...” and off he went to the kitchen. She realized he must be going for tea and decided to reach for her own mug again. She scooted back a little from where she had been sitting against Ela prior, in order to give him space to sit down. No need for tea-spilling accidents for the sake of cuddling. "Fourth of July." She sipped at her tea, noticing it had fallen to growing on the cool side, which was fine. Cold tea or hot tea... it was delicious. “March 21st.” She smiled. “What's your favorite food?” There. A relatively surface question with so many varieties of possible answers. Perfect!

[Elastor Ito]

The tea was still tepid enough to drink. He gorged himself, allowing the smooth medicinal liquid to sooth his raw throat from coughing behind the scenes. Talking certainly wasn't helping, but in some way, he felt like maybe it was. He felt clearer, and suddenly more at ease with himself. He could be okay sitting here beside her--listening to her while trying to also get something about himself across to her. Had he never had conversations like these before? Trying to get to know something... No, he had never tried--never dared. His mentality was obsessively private; he kept to himself. If he didn't bother anyone, they usual didn't bother him. It was better that way. Zen Howler did come around, though, but even so, they never necessarily shared anything with one another. He...he could say that he knew nothing about the man, actually. He just hung around like a terrible stench one couldn't dispose of. At the same time, it was something he got used to--adapted to, even if his voice was insanely annoying--even if he wanted to skewer him at times (most times). This was something entirely different; Ela had a volunteer badge stamped to his forehead.

“March 21st.” A mundane birthday. It didn't really mean anything to him other than the fact that it was a long ways off. Perhaps, it was something for him to remember about her. It was a fact--something recordable that he could easily recall: no details, no emotion, no strings attached. He found it lightweight--as if he could recover his senses from the clarity it brought. Or it might just be the tea. It was probably the tea. Waking him up and all. He took a deep breath and resituated himself, noticing that they had a spill barrier between them. That made him smile just a little--a soft smile, pleasant, and uncommon on his face. “What's your favorite food?” He paused, looking up for a second. There were so many foods--so many varieties. His favorite? He had never thought of something so juvenile as choosing what appealed to him more than something else. It was strange, and so oddly...normal.

"Carrots." Pause. That sounded so bland. "With butter."

[Csilla Angelis]

"Carrots." Carrots? How... simple. "With butter." Ah. Butter? Csilla wrinkled her nose. That sounded like a very interesting combination. Csilla didn't mind carrots, although normally uncooked with ranch dressing or veggie dip. But cooked carrots could be good too. And she suspected he meant cooked. Because uncooked carrots smothered in butter sounded very unhealthy. She smiled. “I have to confess, I have two. Strawberries and french dip.” She nodded her head, deciding to elaborate just in case. “It's a hot roast beef sandwich on french bread with au jus.” She gave a happy sigh just thinking about it. So delicious!

She drank more of her tea, finishing the mug. She rose from a moment, going into the kitchen. She rinsed out her mug and then placed it in the sink. Didn't want to make a mess because that would be rude. She came back and sat back down, pursing her lips as she thought of another question. “Well, what's your favorite drink?” She looked at him with a laugh in her throat and a glint in her eye. “Is it tea?”

[Elastor Ito]

“I have to confess, I have two." Arms. Eyes. Elbows. What was she leading into now? She wasn't an alien? Ela shifted uneasily, a bit nervous at what she was going to say next. Two more questions? It didn't add up. He was a little on edge, perhaps, thoughts being jarred by temptation to reveal. It was an entirely new feeling for the Royal Guard--a strange entryway of emotion. Ela was getting lost in it... "Strawberries and Gelemortian dip.” He cringed, making a how-could-you-put-those-two-things-together face. A fruit alongside a condiment meant to be dipped with unhealthy chips of some sort? He couldn't quite fathom the idea of putting such unworthy foods together. It hardly made them any of the more healthy. She was nodding at him like it was the key ingredient to Thanksgiving dinner and it would solve all of Creta's problems. He stared at her awkwardly. “It's a hot roast beef sandwich on french bread with au jus.”

"O-oh," he blurted, taking a guzzle of his tea to hide the surprise on his features. Of course he hadn't heard of something like that. What kind of name was that. It was so misleading and confusing. There just was no way he would have known the name of a sandwich that was so strange. He cooked his own meals most of the time, so he didn't really go out and get weird, foreign sandwiches with odd names. Who did that, anyway? It was a good thing she explained it though...seriously.

A silence followed, Elastor staring blankly into his cup, contemplating how he would have ever come across such a sandwich in his life. Coming up with nothing, he listlessly watch Csilla go into the kitchen and deposit her cup in the sink like Ken and Taro never did. He began to think of what he could possibly ask her about herself after such a strange reply, but was struggling with a conclusive idea. The couch sank when she settled back down. He turned with a slightly frazzled sorry-I-got-nothing stare.

“Well, what's your favorite drink?” ... “Is it tea?” He'd thought it was obvious. Ela nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. That didn't buy him much time though.

"Green." Though occasionally tasting Christmas in the dead of summer was ironic pleasure. Other times, it was just annoying. He was picky with his tea. Actually, he was picky with most things. But why were they talking about topics they could just as easily find out at a restaurant or even a deli for that matter? How did they go from talking about his past to talking about mealtime favorites? It just didn't make any sense to him. He wasn't one to care about the tiny details; he usually deemed them too insignificant to waste time discussing or inquiring about. There were more important things in life than favorites.

"Isn't there something more important that you want to ask me...?"

[Csilla Angelis]

"Green." She nodded her head. Her perceptive skills were definitely improving. Okay, not really. Guessing that Elastor loved tea was kind of easy, considering how often he drank it. But it was good to know what his favorite kind of tea was. “I really love lemonade.” She smiled. It was such a tart, delicious flavor. “And hot chocolate when it's cold.” Simple, scrumptious flavors made Csilla the happiest.

"Isn't there something more important that you want to ask me...?" She frowned, leaning backwards against the couch cushion. Something... important? What exactly did he mean by that? Did he mean more deep and probing? That was her best guess at this. She thought all the questions she had asked as important, because it gave some kind of insight into Elastor as a person and also into small ways to make him smile. What could be a better Christmas gift than some delicious green tea? Well, it was a little impersonal. But it was definitely better than not knowing anything at all what to get him.

“I'm not sure what you want me to ask you that would be important...” She shrugged her shoulders. “You just told me a really terrible part of your past. It sums up a lot of what I could have asked. You couldn't have experienced much of a childhood like that, and I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember a lot of anything prior.” She felt her heart clench as his tale threatened to restart in her mind. “It seems that all of your life recently centered around making things right...” She sighed a little. “So I thought rather than keep asking you questions that will revolve around this sadness, I'd ask to learn more about your likes and dislikes. They make up who you are, just as much as your past.”

[Elastor Ito]

“I really love lemonade.” Too sweet and too sour at the same time. Whoever invented lemonade was mentally ill. Or so Ela thought. It was vaguely interesting how things were brought into being--how one person squeezed a lemon and thought to add sugar to improve the taste usually only good with chicken and a few other gourmets. The redhead tilted his head slightly in contemplation. He had a few good teas that tasted excellent with a tad of lemon added in. Perhaps Csilla would enjoy tasting those. At a later time maybe. Right now... “And hot chocolate when it's cold.” What female wouldn't mention hot chocolate? Though in the summer, it was a little odd to think of. So was Christmas tea. Ugh. The only hot beverage Ela really drank was tea. What else did he need? His sweet tooth only went so far. He'd partake, but that didn't mean he enjoy it any more than he enjoyed a normal cup of tea.

Csilla's lips creased at his next words, making him immediately regret pushing the issue. Maybe he made it seem as if he weren't enjoying this? He was; he liked learning about her, but it was too easy. Ela was not used to just getting things handed to him. He worked for it--for everything. This was just odd. He could ask whatever he liked? The new-found options were just a little overwhelming; he wasn't used to wanting to know about people. With Nu, he just knew. With Ken and Taro, he just figured it out. Sitting down with tea and asking questions was so strangely amusing, yet not at all gratifying. “I'm not sure what you want me to ask you that would be important...” What he wanted her to ask him? To be honest, he didn't want her to ask him anything. Ela didn't believe in that system. It was what she wanted, and maybe he just needed to give her something about himself. But what? What did he want her to ask? He had already leaked his entire life's story. Wasn't that enough? Was he just getting antsy with these small questions or was he anticipating something deeper on the horizon? He didn't know; he wasn't sure. “It seems that all of your life recently centered around making things right...”

"Right?" He asked inquisitively, shifting his weight. Was that what he was doing?

"I'd ask to learn more about your likes and dislikes. They make up who you are, just as much as your past.” Did they? He guessed so.

"I don't like questions," he smiled, "but I like sitting here with you."

[Csilla Angelis]

“I don't like questions, but I like sitting here with you.” She couldn't help it. Her smile shook on her lips as laughter bubbled over and spilled out. It wasn't a mocking laugh by any means, but one that was warm and bright. Her eyes crinkled closed as she shook her head from side to side. She wasn't sure why she was laughing over such a simple comment. But it made her happy all the same. Csilla half-suspected that Elastor thought her borderline mad though, so she clapped a hand over her mouth to help calm her giggles down. When they subsided, she removed her hand.

“Sorry.” She started to giggle again, but suppressed it. “It's just... you could have send from the beginning you didn't like questions. It makes the game of Twenty Questions a little more complicated.” A sudden urge welled up inside her... she just wanted to throw herself across the small space still between them and wrap her arms around him again. Yet she could hit his teacup and maybe it would fall and crack. That wouldn't be very nice of her. Suddenly though, she felt like she needed to do something. She didn't want to ask him anymore questions, since apparently he didn't like them. Although, one day he would have to get used to answering the occasional question. Otherwise life would become infinitely more complicated. She managed to not fling herself across the couch, but settled to instead shift her weight a little bit on the couch. Had to get the wiggles out. She'd reached for him quite a few times in their strange relationship... maybe it was time for Elastor to reach out and hug HER. She gave him a nervous, lopsided smile. “I like sitting here with you, too.”

[Elastor Ito]

Though it was settled that they both liked sitting, that didn't mean that that was all they should do. Nothing was arranged aside from asking questions--like an interrogation--therefore, shifting gears from such a topic had become more or less a failure on his social skills. Ela was beside himself with shock, realizing such a flaw in himself and eyeing it up and down to assess the damage. Critical, he fumbled with the tea cup, placing it suddenly on the floor and staring at it as if he had just created a work of art. He strayed from the main topic, albeit it made her laugh. Still, he had ventured beyond the arranged topic, disallowing their conversation to continue as it had. He had to change gears and come up with something else or it would go downhill and he would fall prey to his natural state. She would consider his quiet cold--she would turn the other way again.

His eyes narrowed into a death glare, the tea cup the recipient. Suddenly, ferociously, Elastor stood up and turned to Csilla, icy blue ablaze. "Just because I don't like questions doesn't mean you can't ask them. Like I said before, ask and I will answer. For you, I will." Anyone else, no. Anouk, possibly. It depended really; he was choosey with just about everything. "You wanted to know more." He approached. "Answers no one else would hear." In front of her now, he drew his face closer to hers. "Shadows I'd rather not hold light to." He looked past her for just a moment, gathering himself before looking at her straight once more. "But around you, there are no shadows." Slowly he leaned down and pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head, and staring distantly off into the kitchen. "After living so long in them, it is difficult adjusting to normalcy... bear with me?" If only for the short while he had left.

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