sixthiterationlogs | You have that look in your eye

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You have that look in your eye

WHO: Rose Hathaway

littledhampir
WHERE: Various places around 6i
WHEN: 15th - 25th of August (Before the end of Sirens Call)
OPEN TO: OTA - Late tag-ins are always welcome.
WARNINGS: Minor references to blood & a pack of rabid Bambis. Character Death. Others may well come bc… Rose, so. Watch this space. FYI. So much TLDR under the cut.

If you go out in the woods today...

THE WOODS + THE INN

She’d been getting a little too comfortable with the fact that the wildlife here didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Rose’s strictly human status here in the village was generally a point of contention for the Dhampir, but if she had to have picked one thing that didn’t suck - it was her recent ability to be able to pet an animal without fear of it trying to snack on her. Until today.

In her defense...Who the hell would think to be careful around something that looked like Bambi had been left in the dryer on high for too long?! Sure they lull you into a false sense of security by sending one out to try and get your attention, and the next thing you know there’s eight of the little suckers - and she does mean that word literally - all trying to sink their teeth into you while you flail around like a fish that had escaped from its bowl. (Or. ya know. The lead singer of a popular Australian 80s band.)

While it was true that Dhampir blood was considered to taste better than that of a Human, Rose had been hoping that her change in race, courtesy of this godforsaken place, might have meant that had changed it. If the last ten minutes of her life was anything to go by, she hadn’t gotten so lucky.

You would be forgiven for laughing, however, if you happen to spot Rose as she emerges from the edge of the woods. Her appearance mildly alarming due to the bite marks that adorn her arms and legs. The long dark hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail was now a tangled mess that half framed her face. The clothing she’d raided from the discarded items of the Inn, probably more useful as dishcloths than it would ever be for training now. You may even spot one of the little creatures in question as it’s brave enough to think about having another go. And if you do, you’ll also spot Rose as she turns around and sends it back towards the treeline with a kick that sails wide.

Don’t worry if you miss it, she’ll be dragging her sorry self back to the Inn, looking like the disaster that she is, in search of something she can use to clean herself up and bracing for the numerous questions she knows she’s going to regret.

People are strange when you're a stranger

BUILDINGS AROUND 6i

If her encounter with the pack of Rabid Bambis had taught Rose anything, it was that this place was in desperate need of somewhere she could use to train. Running every day might be a part of her routine, but if she weren’t so bored out of her skull from not being able to take to the mats of a gym, maybe she wouldn’t do stupid things like, oh… say… pet the cute yet utterly terrifying spawn of satan.

It’s why she’s been out scouting the various buildings around the village, something that seemed like a wise idea until she realized that half of them were occupied and Rose had no idea which half. The ones with lights on inside made for an easy avoidance, but seeing as most of the people around here didn’t actually have electricity, there was a 50/50 chance that one of the windows she peered through belonged to an inhabited residence. Surely this was going to be fine.

And can you shake it off?

HOT SPRINGS

Even before the Wendigo attack, the Hot Springs had been a regular haunt of Rose’s, dating back to the first time she’d found herself in the village with a busted ankle and a series of conspicuous bite marks that weren’t exactly easy for her to keep covered. From the very moment she’d found out about the spring water and it’s healing potential, she’d been coming here every day. In part because of the healing but also because it seemed to be one of the few places she could visit that wasn’t overrun with people like the Inn was.

Of course, coming here these days wasn’t half as relaxing as it used to be but that was a story that even Kira didn’t have enough alcohol on hand to pry it out of her. It’s usually around dusk that she can be found this way, though, when most are making use of the last hour of natural light the village is afforded.

They say life carries on

PEETA'S GRAVE

When a Dhampir - a Guardian, died in her world, their death wasn’t something that was marked in any significant way. There was no memorial for people to come together and grieve. No procession of mourners to see them onto whatever came next. They were simply buried in a grave with a headstone that read the words ‘Eternal Service’. Dhampir, who like her, had dedicated their lives to protecting others. Dhampir, who like her, had always known that they would one day die because of it.

It was a part of her culture that had never particularly sat well with Rose. The attitude that when a person died, it was acknowledged - albeit briefly - and moved on from. Peeta was by no means a Guardian and yet, he’d gone into the fight knowing he could well die protecting others and while perhaps her only real connection to him was that she’d been there with him at the end. The thought that his death could be just like the many Guardians who had fallen before him, sat uneasily with Rose.

Those who have visited Peeta’s grave might have noticed the appearance of the forget-me-nots that somebody had been leaving there regularly. A single, lavender flower that seemed to be replaced with a new one every day. She never stays long, only long enough to retrieve the wilting flower and replace it with a new one. For Rose, it wasn’t so much about mourning as it was about remembering. About making sure, that at least as long as she was here, the boy who had sacrificed everything to help keep the people here safe, wouldn’t be just another headstone in a row of forgotten heroes.

Wildcard

Pick your poison. Rose lives at the Inn so when she’s not outdoors, she does spend an awful lot of time there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You don't have to be friends with someone to be saddened by their passing, to feel their loss." Major can remember at least one person in both high school and college who died by either sudden or tragic circumstances. One person he'd only seen a couple lockers down from his own, and in homeroom in the mornings. They never really shared more than a smile and the occasional hello, but during their Senior year, he found out that he'd OD'ed on heroin. Even though he didn't know the kid as well as a lot of others, the loss still hit him.

He's not comparing that to what Rose is experiencing, but he knows that sometimes sadness strikes without warning, and people often try to justify it or stupefy it.

Very much in the way Rose seems to be doing now.

"You don't need to come up with excuses," he continues, voice soft and soothing. "Not with me." He takes another step forward, eyes drifting from her face to the grave. "I'm glad you do something to remember him by. I think it's the least anyone could hope for - here or back where we come from."

She wants to open her mouth to argue with him but even as she does, the wind goes out of her sails, her weight shifting once again as she tries to find the words that are needed. She didn’t know how to explain what she really felt without there being a thousand questions but she also didn’t know if they were the kind of answers that were worth holding in either. She was never going to be normal, not even by her own worlds standards but if she were? She wouldn’t have made it this far in her still short life.

“I’m not sad.” It’s not defensive, not an excuse. There’s enough truth in her words for them to ring honestly as she speaks them and she allows herself to look at him then. Giving up the hiding of the flower, she uncurls her fingers, staring at the crushed petals that lay in the palm in her hand. Rarely did Rose ever wish she had even an ounce of the abilities that Liss had, but right now she wished she could have brought that flower back to life. That was Lissa’s gift though, the light to her dark. She would always bring life while Rose’s gift was death.

“I’m not… That’s half the problem.” Rose absently stroking the petals of the dying flower with her thumb. “I should be, or I should at least feel something but I just… don’t.” Or at least, not what she thought she should feel. She felt guilt, even anger but not at the people who deserved it. She was mad at Peeta of all people for throwing himself into danger when he should have known he was at a disadvantage. Guilty because she’d seen that he was and hadn’t tried to stop him, hadn’t done enough to keep him out of the path of the beast.

“I don’t know when I reached a point when somebody could die in front of me and I’d just feel… nothing.” But after Siberia, after Spokane, after everything that had happened in between the two, she felt like she’d reached this points where the things that should affect her, can barely touch her at all. She wasn’t grieving the loss of a boy that she barely knew. In many ways she was grieving the loss of the person she used to be, she just didn’t know that yet.

“I come here because… when somebody dies the way he did, people should remember.” And perhaps, more than that, she came here because there were people she wanted to remember, but there would never be any grave for her to visit them, not here and not back home. “That’s not really how it works where I’m from.”

Major's not rushing anyone, least of all Rose. Whatever she might have or want to say, she can - but he isn't going to put expectations on her like that. He won't force her to talk, or explain, or do anything for his sake. If she so much gives him a look to indicate she'd rather be alone, he'll be out of her hair without a word and without a bad feeling towards her. People deal with grief in different ways, and no one way is more correct than the other. He's never been that much of a judgmental person, but he always remembers his more recent past and how that puts him at the very bottom of the "Can Be Judgey" list.

Her voice draws his gaze towards her face, though - just for a brief moment, to acknowledge her. It drifts down towards the crushed up flower in her palm, the tiny purple petals now darkened and withered. He only knows obvious flowers like tulips and roses, so he's got no idea what the plant is that she's got in her hand, but he figures there's some kind of significance. She'd have chosen it for a reason, whatever it might be.

He continues to listen to her, allowing her to say as much or as little as she pleases. He understands more, now, with her explanation.

"Sometimes, shock and grief sort of make a cocoon around us, to protect us from too many emotions at once. The brain will always try to protect itself. Sometimes, we go into that shock and feel absolutely nothing because there's no other way we can get through whatever's going on. We compartmentalize, dissociate. And then we often feel a sudden outburst of emotion later on down the line, sometimes unexpectedly." He clasps his hands in front of him as he stands, now looking at the grave again. "I used to work at a homeless shelter for youths. Most were young teenagers. I saw that sort of thing a lot there." He shifts a little bit closer to her, gently tapping her with his elbow. "I was told once that feelings aren't right or wrong; they exist outside of the realm of morality. They just are. So if you aren't feeling as sad as you think you should be, it doesn't mean that what you're feeling is wrong. It's ... just what you feel." He turns towards her now, not reaching out for her (though he's the sort of person who's generally inclined to do that), but unclasping his hands to show they're there should she want to hold them. "You coming here, putting flowers on his grave even when no one else knows about it, because you want him to be remembered, because you want to not forget, regardless of how sad you feel or how ... not-sad you feel .. that speaks more than feeling sad for the sake of feeling sad. Feelings are simply feelings, but we've got control over what we do with them, how they affect our behaviors."

He reaches up, places a gentle hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before letting his hand fall again.

"It seems to me like you're feeling plenty, but being constructive with it."

It’s not that she wants to be alone but rather, that she doesn’t know how to be around people and simply feel whatever she’s feeling. Funny for somebody who was always told she was never good at holding back her emotions. When it came to shades of anger or affection, that much was true but if it ran deeper than that, hit harder than that then Rose was well versed in keeping it to herself. Back home, she had to, or at least she thought she did. There was never time for her to feel her way through everything, not when Lissa’s well-being would be at stake. She simply existed, letting the pain or hurt or frustration build until one day, the outburst he was talking about came and it ended well for nobody.

Rose had no idea the true the significance of the flowers she’d been picking. She’d never so much as picked up a book in this place to begin to know what half the things were. She’d chosen it, quite simply, because it reminded her of home. When she breathed in the flower it had just a hint of vanilla, like Lissa’s perfume. The rich, sweet scent of worn leather like Dimitri’s duster. She could smell the woods of Montana, the hints of warm earth as if the sun had been beating down hard that day and the ground still retained some of its heat. Every time she picked one, she was transported back to a time when everything felt much safer, more secure. A time before life started spinning out of control and swept her up in it.

As if trying to shove those memories away, Rose pushes the wilted flower into the pocket of her leather jacket, Major’s words pulling her out of the sea of memories that were conjured every time she held the forget-me-not for too long. Give the man a Russian accent and she could have been in the middle of one of her ‘Zen life lessons’ again, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth before reality saw it slip away once more.

She felt rather than saw him turn into her. Rose stiffening, just a little as she became the object of his focus and while she saw his hands she wasn’t the type who would simply reach for them. She was physical by nature, but not when it came to moments like this - never when she was at the heart of the discussion because she so rarely was. Oh, she got talked about plenty, usually in a rather colorful light but talked to, as an equal. There was only one person who used to do that with her, and it was the used to that made her unsure how to respond now.

“You’re probably the first person I’ve met that’s told me I should feel what I feel.” A light huff of soundless laughter following those words, though he could never understand her reason for it. For as long as she could remember, she was taught to do the opposite; Hold it in, close your mouth, behave. She wondered if people had the slightest idea how often she wanted to just scream for the sake of being heard. To drown out their endless lessons.

“Definitely the first person who's ever accused me of using my feelings constructively.” Unable to help but fall back into that playful banter, though even she could hear that it lacked the melody that usually came effortlessly. She was better at banter than she ever was at the heavier things, capable of holding her own in a witty tête-à-tête but at a complete loss when she might be expected to be open; vulnerable.

Edited 2018-08-16 14:51 (UTC)

"It took me a long time to allow myself to feel whatever I felt, too," Major replies, his words heavy with an underlying sigh. "We all have our trials and tribulations, and I know I've experienced a great deal of privilege in my life - but something that was always difficult for me to deal with was being told I .. more or less wasn't allowed to feel sad as a guy. I wasn't allowed to cry, or be affectionate with anyone but the woman I was dating, or be .. soft. I always had to be rugged, and tough, and prone to anger." He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders to no one but the ghosts of all of the people who tried to mould him into such a person.

"But .. that never really worked well for me. I've got too many feelings. I'm like that girl in Mean Girls who wants to bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles to make everyone feel better, who just has a lot of feelings." He can't help but laugh quietly at the thought. "I wasn't supposed to watch those movies. I was supposed to roll my eyes and complain if a girlfriend "dragged" me to see it, or make her go with her other female friends and instead go see action movies with explosions. Don't get me wrong, I love explosions and car chases, too, but .. I like what I like. I don't really care about what's supposed to be "girly" or not." He realizes he's rambling and, with a breath, stops himself. "My point is: I get what you mean, in that you haven't been .. given the permission to feel what you feel. Not that you've ever really needed that permission, and not like I'm the Wizard of Oz who's suddenly given you the ability to feel sadness instead of courage.

But .. you have it. Like I said, feelings aren't wrong or right - they just are. What we do after and while we feel those things .. like coming to lay flowers on the grave of someone we didn't even know all that well .. that's what really makes a difference." He turns to her fully, tilting his head as he considers her face with careful but polite scrutiny. "So, I'm a hugger. You don't seem like you're a hugger, and I don't wanna just do it without you saying it's okay. But is it okay if I hugged you?"

“I always had the opposite problem.” She admits, thinking back over how much had changed, especially in the last year. She never used to care what anyone thought of her, still didn’t to a degree but it seemed that any time she allowed herself to be… herself, she was being told how wrong that was. Don’t dance with that person he has a bad reputation. Don’t have fun, you should be focused. Don’t wear this, don’t say that, don’t be who you really are because there’s always somebody watching and you could make somebody else look bad. Like that was what mattered the most in all this. How her behavior might reflect on others.

Perhaps what was worse, was that she’d accepted her need to change, to shove the person she truly was behind a facade of the vigilant, professional Guardian who could never be touched: Physically or emotionally. She’d allowed it to slip since she’d arrived in the village, trying to let that other side of her come out to play but then things like this happened - monsters came, people died - and she was back to thinking that maybe, they had been right all along. That she couldn’t be who she was when she needed to be so much more. And then there were moments like right now, when she felt untouchable by sadness and she wondered if something had been broken inside of her.

It was his way of explaining things that dragged her from those thoughts, Rose once again with that now familiar vacant stare as he references something about mean girls and rainbow cake. Unshockingly, she had no clue what he was talking about, but she could at least grasp the point he was trying to make.

“Oh - I’ve heard of that one.” Because the rock she lived under wasn’t quite large enough for her not to have heard of Wizard of Oz. “Never actually made it to the wizard though…” Allowing herself to be sidetracked? Perhaps a little more deflection. She was trying, she was but people just didn’t talk to her like this. They didn’t give her permission to feel things and they never took the time to even really see how it was that she was feeling. They just allowed her to get on with it, assuming she’d be okay and the truth was, a lot of the time she wasn’t and couldn’t be. That’s where she had to pretend, to push it all down because when death was coming at you at breakneck speed? You didn’t have time to fall apart.

“I hug.” Delivered with a mock, defensive tone, the smallest of grins letting him know that she was painfully aware of her ‘touch me and I’ll break your arm’ vibe. In part because… it was always a fifty percent chance that she would, and a hundred percent chance that she could - as history had proven - but not when it came to Major. “I happen to be an excellent hugger.”

She just also happened to be somebody who didn’t know how to ask for one, who had never been shown that it was okay to seek that kind of comfort from another person.

As if to prove to him that she could, Rose made a show of opening her arms to him, closing what distance there was between them as she wrapped her arms around her body. It was only once she was pressed to him that she realized, she couldn’t actually remember the last time she had done this and she found herself holding him a little tighter in response as she allowed herself just a moment to feel the comfort of another person.

At the sight of her blank stare, Major realizes he really needs to make other references to things, but considering he has no real experience with real vampires who are simultaneously Haley Joel Osment from The Sixth Sense outside of .. well, the movie itself and the various novels and movies he's seen with vampires in them, he .. doesn't know what sort of references she might get. To him, Mean Girls was a pretty big movie, but he knows it's not as big as The Wizard of Oz. He thinks that maybe he can make references to very big, culturally significant things. Maybe she'll get those.

He isn't sure if he knows enough to keep that going for an extended period of time, but he's going to try. No one likes to feel like they're left out. And he doesn't mean to make her feel that way, if he does. He figures it's a leftover trait from having worked with teenagers for years. They understood the best when he used what they knew. That meant movies, TV shows, books, all fairly current and all less than 20 years old. But he hasn't worked for Helton Shelter in .. god, years at this point. He didn't have to keep doing that.

That also brings up another question of how old Rose might be, but .. he knows better than to ask that.

"Wait, you've never seen the ending of The Wizard of Oz? Is that what you're telling me?" He's not appalled but he's shocked for sure. His grandmother loved the movie and would watch it fairly often. Major liked the music, and he liked the story, so he'd watch it with her whenever he happened to be around and available.

"I don't doubt your ability as a hugger. It was more .. whether you .. wanted a hug, I guess. Not everyone's into that. I think everyone's got the potential to be vying for the spot of World's Best Hugger, but not everyone wants that title." Her making the first move surprises him, but also delights him. He softens almost immediately, easily melting his frame into hers.

When he feels the shift and tightening of her arms around his waist, it doesn't take long for him to understand the meaning behind it. Even if he can't know everything she's been through, he remembers their first meeting. He remembers the terror in her eyes, the distrust in her face, the fright in her words. He remembers how panicked she was, how betrayed and unsure. Those aren't the responses of someone who's been shown love, affection, and friendship in droves. Those are the responses of someone who's been hugged too little, and maybe loved too little, too.

He reciprocates, tightening without being aggressive, and reaches up one hand to gently smooth down her hair to her shoulders. He murmurs a soft sound of comfort.

He's more than happy to stay here for as long as she wants.

“Yes? In my defense… I’ve never seen the ending of a lot of movies. Never really been allowed to sit around and watch them.” And when she was younger, she never really had the focus to do so. Liss would watch them and Rose would glean the basics through the bond, but that was a conversation that involved a whole lot of explanations that she wasn’t sure even Major would get. He’d been great so far, accepting every bit of insanity that she’d thrown his way. Better even than she had when it came to the Zombie revelation but she figured there had to be a line somewhere. Nobody could be that infinitely accepting of another person’s crazy baggage. (Well… nobody except Major but she’s yet to learn that part.)

“I was just messing with you, Major.” She manages to get out before she moves in for that hug.

There were the kind of hugs that you gave somebody in greeting, one you’d share with a good friend. They were brief, a quick surge of warmth and then you went about your day as normal. It was like that with her and Lissa but even then? Only sometimes. Then there were the hugs you gave in comfort, when you were trying to make another person feel better, and Rose seemed to have an endless supply of those to dish out, especially where the aforementioned best friend was concerned. But this. The kind of comfort that somebody offered her? It had happened once, maybe. After Spokane. The first time in living memory that her mother had even shown her an affectionate gesture and even that… it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a warm, all encompassing hug that blocked out all the bad in the world.

She feels the lump well in her throat even as she tries to swallow it down, the sudden onslaught of emotion shaking her as he holds her tighter in kind. There’s a stiffness in her body that comes from desperately trying to hold it together, her chest shuddering against his broader one as she exhales a shaky breath. For a moment she thinks she can do this and somehow be okay. Allow somebody to care about her and take some comfort in their presence, but it's his hand that is her undoing. The way he strokes her hair. The way his chest vibrates gently with the comforting murmur that passes his lips.

She turns her head, pressing her face into the grooves of his collarbone. Her warm breath fanning out against his skin as her body molds to his. She can feel a wetness spring to her eyes but doesn’t understand it, what it is that she’s feeling as he holds her to him, like he can somehow make everything okay. The thing is, even if she knows it isn’t real and can’t last, as she allows herself to stand there with him, she actually believes that maybe he can.

There's a tiny piece of Major's empathetic heart that breaks when she reveals that she'd never been allowed to sit and watch the end of movies. Like she'd always been teased with and promised the exciting experience of watching a story unfold, but would continually live in disappointment with half-finished tales and open-ended curiosities. It's a build up without any release, like being promised a candy store only to find it's closed when you get to the door. Only with Rose, it was apparently a regular occurrence, and Major can't help but feel awful about that.

He's selfishly wished for televisions, video game consoles, and the like - but now he wishes he could get a TV (even an old, dinky one) and a VCR or DVD player. If only to close those chapters for her. Let her see the resolutions, the happy endings, the sunsets.

Maybe things will change, he thinks. After all, they'd gotten electricity before he'd left last time. Maybe TVs would be next. .. Someday.

When he was a counselor at Helton Shelter, he'd experienced a number of break downs, tantrums, breaks from the youths he counseled. Some had homes so terrible, he'd have nightmares about it. Others had gone through things or done things he could barely begin to fathom. And he always tried to be the solid rock that they needed, the one thing to help them find their footing in their quicksand of a life.

With Rose, standing like this, it feels .. different. Not in any real discernible way, but just enough that he can tune into it. It isn't because of who they were before, or because of the lives they lead before they were brought to the village. It's something to do with who they are together, the frequency they seem to have met on, the harmonious vibrations shared between them. It's easy to wrap himself around her, stoic but soft, immovable but gentle. He knows that he can't take away the tears, the emotions, the sadness, the mourning that she might feel in this moment - but he knows that he can at least be there with her in those feelings, in whatever capacity she might need him.

"I'm here," he whispers, barely loudly enough for her to hear. And he means it.

With her. Around her. Beside her.

He's here.

The truth of it, may in many ways, be more awful than what Major is picturing. Rose never felt like she was missing out because there were no movies about people like her. Nobody wanted to watch the story of a young woman who lived her life, preparing to die for the people around her. They wanted hopeful tales of a better future and happily ever afters. That just wasn’t something Rose pictured in her life.

It wasn’t all bad. It’s not like she resented the path her life had taken, even if her choices were far from plentiful but watching stories of a life she knew she’d never have… there wasn’t a whole lot of enjoyment to be found in that. Plus it was hard to laugh and sigh her way through a romantic comedy when her own love life tended to play out more like one of Shakespeare's tragedies.

It's why this moment is so overwhelming because it's something else she simply didn’t do. Allow herself to stop and feel it all or have anyone who wants to feel that with her. She’d forgotten what it felt like to find comfort and warmth in the touch of another person. To have their scent wrap around her the way Major’s is right now. She breathes it in, her chest shuddering as he invades her senses, and she finds it almost impossible not to cling to him in the dying light of the day.

With every second that ticks by, she can feel the emotion that's wound so tightly through her chest, slowly begin to uncoil. Daring for the first time to release its grip on her heart as she loses the sense of where she ends and he begins. He’d be able to feel the tension slowly drain away as she gives herself over to it, Rose leaning into him and allowing Major to bear some of the weight that she’s been carrying for far too long now.

Her hands flattened against his back, she stretches her fingers wide as he envelops her. The warmth of her breath as it evens out, touching her cheeks as she turns her head to brush against his chest - and then without warning, he’d feel her stiffen, Rose shrinking away from the hug, her eyes out of focus as they avoid his gaze while she shatters what had been until then, a perfect moment.

“Sorry - I…” Her hand withdraws from his back, slipping between them to press against his chest, Rose attempting to put even a little distance between them as she struggles in silence to pull herself back from the brink. “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound like she’s apologizing for breaking away, but rather for allowing herself to fall into it in the first place - like she’s asked him for too much and is only now trying to rectify it.

"Hey," Major replies softly, shaking his head in gentle reassurance. "Look, I can't speak for anyone else but myself, but you .. never, ever have to apologize for anything like that with me, okay? I mean, I hope you would apologize if you like, punched me (unless I deserved it) or .. I don't know, stole my dog or something. But this?" He uses a hand to gesture back and forth between them. "This is something you don't ever have to apologize for."

He tentatively reaches a hand up and, with his thumb, wipes her cheek.

"Even for us non-human folks, none of us are so strong as to be able to carry everything on our shoulders all the time. And I'm okay with sharing the load with you. If you want me to." It's a statement that's perhaps a bit weighted than he'll really let on. It's a promise of friendship, of course - and above all, Major will always consider Rose a friend, regardless of anything else that could blossom from it.

But it's also the implied promise of his steadiness and camaraderie in case anything else does blossom from it. He keeps his tone and expression meaningful but light, like he's not putting all his eggs into one proverbial basket. He's tossing out the line and seeing if anything bites.

"Would going for a walk help you? Or do you want to stay here for a bit longer? I can leave, if you want me to, or I can stay. I'll do whatever it is you need."

“Why would I steal your dog?” She’s not even trying to be funny when she chooses that to be the thing she’d never do and not, well, the punching. Rose is painfully aware that she is, who she is and sometimes that means she’s going to let her fists do the talking, even when they shouldn’t. For what it’s worth? She can’t imagine ever wanting to punch Major but when you're known for being a person who hits first and asks questions later? She knows it's at least possible.

Anything else she could have said to distract from the intensity that still lingers in the air, gets lost as he lifts his hand to her face. Rose stilling as she feels the pad of his thumb run across her cheek, her eyes involuntarily flicking up to meet his. It’s not often that she looks young, not with the life she’s led already but there’s an uncertainty and vulnerability in her eyes that softens her at that moment, the years seeming to fall away in a single look, as his words wash over her.

He made it all sound so simple and easy. Like she can just decide that she wants to share the burden and like that, he’ll be there to help her. People don’t work that way, though. Not Moroi. Not Dhampir. No human she’s ever encountered - not that there had been many before coming here. It’s not that people are selfish by nature it’s just that they have their own burdens to carry. The only person who had ever really tried to shoulder hers was…

He’d hear the slow intake of breath, see the confusion in her eyes slowly turn to skepticism. Rose standing there trying to read between the lines before dismissing the thought that had barely dared to blossom in her mind with a small shake of her head. He’s in love with his ex-fiance and she’s a trainwreck. Even considering that might be a possibility makes her feel utterly moronic.

“I - “ The thing about Rose and words, she either has too many or never enough. There are times when the most ridiculous things will pass her lips. Other times, rare though they might be, when wisdom that seems far beyond her age or understanding will flow freely. And then there’s these moments, the ones where she wishes she had the words, even if its just to fill the silence but she doesn’t know where to even begin, how to express one of the million thoughts and feelings that are spinning around inside of her.

“I don’t know what I need.” And she doesn’t just seem to be talking about here and now. What she needed has never been something to consider. It’s just, not how life works for her, or for any Guardian for that matter. “But… I don’t want you to go.” She could say that much at least. “Unless…. Well, don’t stay for me, stay because you want to.” Because the only thing worse than being alone right now would be him staying out of some sense of obligation. Lonely would always be better to Rose than being a burden.

"It's not -- I'm not saying --" Major lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to imply that you would. It was a random example I thought of. The only acceptable reason to steal my dog, though, is if I'm being a jerk and you wanted me to come see you. But then you'd run the risk of having Ravi go searching for him instead, and I dunno if you've met him before, but he tends to throw a lot of Science everywhere. He's a nerd. A smart, intelligent nerd, but a nerd." Major remembers when he and Sam had first talked and how quickly she told him that she didn't like Ravi, mostly because they'd gotten into some sci-fi nerd argument. It still makes him laugh, even now.

"That's okay." Major smiles at her, gently and softly, before glancing around at the area and deciding to plop down on the ground, a bit away from the grave. He pats the grass beside him. "We can sit here until you feel like you're ready to go. We don't even have to talk if you don't want to. We can just .. sit." He considers something with a tilt of his head. "Or I can tell you embarrassing stories from my childhood, if you want. I can make up things about the different zodiac signs as someone who has literally no knowledge of them. Or I can tell the plots to some of my favorite movies. Or .. whatever. Silence is always an option, too." He smiles up at her. "And, for the record, I'm staying because I want to. I like spending time with you."

“Nah… if you were being a jerk I’d probably just hit you.” Allowing a wry smile to play at the corner of her mouth, despite the fact that there was some truth in what she’d just said. She wasn’t exactly known for her ability to hold back her feelings and while she’d been working on it lately, even more since coming here, there was always going to be a part of Rose that went with her knee-jerk reaction, especially when she was upset. She just, couldn’t picture being the type who would cause her that level of pain.

She feels the sudden loss of his closeness the moment he moves away, Rose wrapping her arms around her body as if she could keep all the parts of her that felt like they were going to escape, trapped inside the flimsy walls she’s erected as he moves to sit down.

She had no intention of talking about anything real or difficult when she took those first steps to join him and yet by the time she’s sitting cross-legged on the grass, she can feel the words start to flow before she even registers them.

“I have a boyfriend.” It’s one of those words that she hates because it sounds so… trivial. Like the kind of thing that teenage girls say when giggling to their friends. “Had.” She corrects because despite how it feels, he isn’t that anymore. “I don’t even know if you can even call him a boyfriend. Our relationship was… complicated.”

She’s not even sure why she’s saying this, except for the fact that he’s the first person she’s felt like she could say it to. The only one who she’s ever wanted to share that part of her she’s kept hidden at all costs.

“But I loved him - still love him.” Maybe that was it? Telling Major was easier because she believes he’ll understand it. He was still in love with Liv and probably always would be. Just as she would be with Dimitri.

“There was an attack - Strigoi. A lot of Strigoi. And a lot of people died.” She doesn’t look at him as she speaks, finding it easier just to stare at the ground in front of them, her fingers twining through the threads of grass, feeling them break off in her hands as the words try to form. “He didn’t exactly… death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a Guardian. He was, taken by them. Turned into one of them. A Strigoi.”

"And I'd definitely deserve it." Major matches her smile, though he allows his to be a bit more prominent on his face than she does. "It wouldn't be the first time I'd have been punched. Kidnapped in a freezer, remember? If anyone, getting punched would be the least violent thing that's happened in a while." He knows his experiences and everything that went down in Seattle pales in comparison to what Rose has been through, but .. it's still his life. And it's far, far more chaotic than he ever dreamt back when he'd asked Liv to marry him.

Major leans back, digging his heels into the ground slightly behind him. He is, as he mentioned, perfectly content to sit in silence, but he is glad to hear Rose talk more. It isn't hard to know - both from her self-reporting and also her general way of being - that she isn't much of a talker. So he appreciates and cherishes the fact that she deems him safe and trustworthy enough to share things with. That's not lost on him.

"Who's relationship isn't complicated? I don't think anyone I know doesn't or hasn't had some sort of "it's complicated" thing going on in their lives." Even Ravi and Peyton had their own complications, especially with (ugh) Blaine in the mix.

He sits back up and reaches over to lay a soft hand on her forearm.

"I'm sorry, that that happened to your boyfriend. Regardless of how complicated it was." If anything, Major can empathize even more because it's .. sort of how he felt when he found out about what had happened to Liv, at the boat party he told her to go to. "The Stri- wait," he starts, taking a few seconds to try and really get the pronunciation correct, "Stri- Strigoi? They're the ones that are like the rage mode zombies, right? The .. violent ones?" He shakes his head, exhaling a puff of breath. "I'm sorry."

She nods, realizing they were hardly the first couple to have had problems that were out of their control. For Rose it’s more that she’s not sure what to call what they had. There isn’t a label that exists in the english language that isn’t lacking in some way. He brought a balance she was lacking. Made her be a better person. He put her first when it went against everything they believed in. He saw her, when everyone around her saw what they wanted, what was easier to accept rather than what lay beneath.

“We were together in all the ways that counted.” She wouldn’t ever minimise what they had because of the complications, if anything it had made them stronger. They spent so long trying not to be together, because of duty, because of expectations, because of what their society would say and it hadn’t been enough. His own family had treated her like she was his wife when she’d gone to tell them what had happened, because in their eyes? She was. In every way that mattered.

Her gaze falls to the hand that rests on her arm, but she doesn’t try to shake it off. Still, she can’t quite bring herself to respond to his touch either, needing to keep some kind of emotional shield in place in order to tell him her story. His story. She nods at his questions, allowing herself a moment of silence until the tightness in her throat can ease. Rose staring at a patch of blue flowers, watching their color lose their vibrancy in the fading light of the day.

“The kidnapping. The mansion full of vampires. The ghosts hating Strigoi.” They're all snippets of things she's told him and this is how they all tie together. Dimitri. “That night, when you pulled me out of the fountain?” She allows herself to look at him again, to see if he’s pieced it all together. It’s not so hard to figure out once you know they’re all connected; The bites on her neck. The fear in her eyes. Even the fact that she doesn’t have anything left to feel for a boy who died right in front of her. It would always come back to Dimitri.

“His name was Dimitri Belikov and he was the best person I’ve ever known.” Her gaze returning to that patch of faded blue flowers. There’s an almost eerie calm that surrounds her now, like the very thing she’s needed for so long, was to say the words that made that night real, to stop the endless scenarios spinning around in her head. “And the night we met was the night I drove a stake through his heart.”

"That's all that matters," Major replies with a tiny nod. He gets it, he really does. Even if the circumstances and details of their lives are wildly, wildly different, Major gets it. At least from where he is back in Seattle, he feels very similarly about Liv. Constantly complicated, but full of history, full of shared pain and happiness. He remembers writing her letter when he thought he was going to lose his memory. The others were full of ramblings (and he might've lost his cool while writing Ravi's), but Liv's was .. relatively short. It was mostly a declaration of love, the kind of love he suspected he'd never quite feel again for anyone else.

That's not to say he hasn't loved other people, because he has. But maybe it was because of their shared trauma with all of the zombie stuff, which had been affecting their relationship from the beginning of the outbreak, that made him feel more bonded than before. But he also understood the concept of star-crossed lovers, and that's often how he felt about their relationship.

He brings himself back to listen to her story, and his eyes go wide with realization. The fingers on the hand on her arm twitch as it all clicks, but he doesn't take his hand away. If anything, he gently squeezes her arm in reassurance. With a slow exhale and a shake of his head, his other hand comes up to cover his mouth. He glances towards the ground some distance away, processing all of that.

"Shit," he mumbles from behind his hand. He's not one to curse too often, but the occasion calls for it. "That's .... what you went through when I found you?" He brings his eyes back to her face, full of sympathy, sadness, and understanding. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm .. so sorry, that that's what you went through. I can't even begin to imagine .. what all of that must've done to you." As if the light's been shone in the darkness, he understands - or thinks he understands, at least - her better. "You shouldn't have had to go through that, and I'm sorry." He scoots closer to her to place his other hand on her other arm. "I want you to know that I appreciate you telling me. I know you didn't have to, and I know it can't have been easy, but I appreciate, endlessly, that you have. That's .. that's so much for one person to carry. I'm sorry."

Perhaps that was why she could tell him when she’d never been able to say the words to anyone else. He knew something about a kind of love that wasn’t easy and yet impossible to walk away from. He might still have Liv in his life, but he’d be able to have a sense of what it would be like to lose her and he knows something of loving somebody more than anything, and it not always being enough to keep them together.

There’s something oddly comforting about his response, the sudden slip from his lips that sums it all up too well and while she can feel his eyes on her, she still won’t allow herself to look at him. It’s not that she’s trying to shut him out, more that she’s trying to get through this and it's easier to do somehow when she doesn't have to see the sadness or concern in his eyes. There's this part of her that worries, if she sees just how tragic it all is, the reality of it will slam into her and then she’ll never be able to breathe again.

“It was my choice.” That part seems important somehow, because it proved she wasn’t some unwitting victim. What had happened in Siberia, what had happened with Dimitri, it had all come from the choices she’d made. “I went looking for him.” Because he’d needed her, not the thing he’d become but the man that he was and she could remember the conversation that had set her on this path, even though it felt like such a long time ago now.

“We agreed it would be better to be dead than to be one of them. So I went looking for him and then, he found me.” The rest, well he knows enough to have some idea of what had happened. The details though, that was something Rose would never willingly reveal.

It’s only now that she feels like its done that she can allow herself to look at Major, her hand reaching across her body to cover one of his, as if to reassure him that it - she - is alright. “Yes I did.” Realizing the truth in those words as soon as they’d passed her lips. “Maybe not, to you but…” Her shoulder lifts in a gentle shrug, figuring he’d know what she means.

“Don’t be sorry though.” She still has this unexpected calm about her, finding some level of peace in being able to say the words out loud and she even manages a small, broken smile as her thumb lightly brushes against his hand. “It happened… and I wouldn’t do things differently if I could go back, even knowing how they’d turn out because… It was still worth it, ya know?”

Major nods at her, reaffirming with her that it had been her choice. He understands the importance of that bit of information, even if it's more as a reminder to herself than an explanation for him. He marvels, for what feels like the thousandth time, at the similarities of their societies. He knows there are a lot of humans throughout Seattle who'd much rather be dead than a zombie, and there are many zombies who'd much rather be dead than devolved into a Romero, that mindless, Night of the Living Dead version of themselves. Major agrees on that latter thought; he wouldn't want to get to that point. If it couldn't be avoided, like when Max Rager was secretly experimenting on zombies, he'd want a bullet in his brain to end that as swiftly as possible.

He gives a lopsided smile when she finally looks at him. He understands why she couldn't bring herself to look at him beforehand.

"Mmhmm," he murmurs as he nods. He has conflicting feelings about that with his own life, depending on the day. Some days, he thinks the way Rose does about it - not feeling sorry, not regretting anything. Other days, he regrets everything. What he'd been living back in Seattle wasn't what he had expected when he asked Liv to marry him so many years prior. But, as Rose pointed out, it - the outbreak, the boat party, the spread of zombies - happened. There was no point in feeling sorry about it when the only way to move was forward. "Thank you. For sharing and for also .. giving me a lot to think about, with my own life." While he's sure it was helpful for her to tell someone all of this, he can't deny the helpfulness he's felt in this conversation, too. "Do you want to talk about him?" he asks, looking over at Peeta's grave. "If you're exhausted from talking, you don't have to. Or if you just .. don't feel like talking about it. You don't have to, of course."

For Rose it’s the fact that she can’t regret the things she did, only those she didn’t. She would rather spend the rest of her life missing Dimitri, than a lifetime of wondering what if. The only thing she could control was the choices she’d made, and she’d make them all over again.

“Really?” Silently scrutinizing him for a moment as she wondered how what she’d said could have reached him in some way but hearing that, only helps to reassure she wasn’t only right to tell somebody, but that there wasn’t anyone she would rather have shared it with, than Major. “You’re welcome… and, thanks for listening.” Because she knew it was a lot and she wasn’t used to sharing anything that real about herself, but Major had this way of making her feel like she wasn’t a burden. Like, it really was okay for her to take a moment to put herself first.

“No…” Even finding a smile that doesn’t look quite so forced. “I don’t need to.” Talk about him. This was already the most she’d ever told anyone about Dimitri, either back home or in this place and she didn’t want to be stuck in the past. It was the whole reason she’d needed to say as much as she had but talking about all the reasons why she loved him, wasn’t going to bring him back. It was just going to keep the wound raw and weeping and he wouldn’t want that.

Her hand runs down his arm until her fingers brush his, allowing them to lace together and the silence to hang between them for several long moments… but there’s only so much serious that Rose can take, before a soft chuckle makes her shoulders shake.

“Though, for the record. Next time we hang out? Can we do it somewhere other than a grave?”

"Yeah, really," Major affirms with a tiny nod to seal the deal. "Kind of just .. the understanding that things that have already happened can't be changed, you know? The only thing that I can do - that we all can do, really - is keep moving forward, keep looking towards what's to come. It doesn't make sense to sit and wallow about stuff you can't change. I mean, I think it's important not to forget all of it because, you know, those sayings about being doomed to repeat history and all, but we don't have to let it consume us. It's okay to just let things go." He shakes his head gently at her thanking him, not to dismiss her gratitude but to show that it really wasn't anything for him to sit and listen. He knows he's gotten the better end of the bargain, being gifted with her ease, her story, tales of her life.

"You don't think the grave is kinda metal? Kinda goth?" He looks over to where Peeta's buried. "I mean, I was never really into both scenes, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been at least a little bit curious about them." He glances back to her. "But, yeah, sure. So long as there is another hang out to look forward to, we'll pick something different." And then, as an after thought because Major's brain is always whizzing at a million miles a minute, he adds, "I read once that Mary Shelley lost her virginity on her mother's grave."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You have that look in your eye

LOL it's okay /pets

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