Mallaidh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetestheart) wrote2020-09-20 02:00 pm
sweetestheart) wrote2020-09-20 02:00 pm
Entry tags:
TFLN overflow catchall
Threads to be continued here!
Hard to imagine any state you're in isn't prime selfie material.
( He feels awkward about responding to her comment about his presentation. He doesn't believe he's all that ugly, but he sure as fuck doesn't believe he's attractive. He feels better just focusing on her. )
( He feels awkward about responding to her comment about his presentation. He doesn't believe he's all that ugly, but he sure as fuck doesn't believe he's attractive. He feels better just focusing on her. )
Oh no, trust me, it's easily imagined.
The next time I'm mucking out the stable and I'm neck deep in dirty hay and horse shit, I'll send you another photo.
Well you've failed miserably. ( She smiles, this time brighter. ) As previously stated, I think you're anything but that.
( She's trying to be sweet, yes - but the compliment was meant to be genuine; John's a strong name, and he is certainly that in more ways than one.
At least, as far as she can tell with the help of his wet shirt. )
Now I know you're teasing me, I don't think my old heart can take such raw beauty.
Perhaps I won't then; wouldn't want you to keel over and have that as the last thing you see. Couldn't live with myself!
So you've said.
[ And while it might have made him frown with suspicion before, he can't help that it makes him smile a little now. ]
Naoise. I don't know if it was given to me by my human kin or the fae who took me but. That's what I used to be called.
[ He doesn't particularly like speaking the name, nor is he fond of hearing it, but some part of him thinks perhaps it wouldn't sound quite so awful if spoken in Mallaidh's voice. ]
[ And while it might have made him frown with suspicion before, he can't help that it makes him smile a little now. ]
Naoise. I don't know if it was given to me by my human kin or the fae who took me but. That's what I used to be called.
[ He doesn't particularly like speaking the name, nor is he fond of hearing it, but some part of him thinks perhaps it wouldn't sound quite so awful if spoken in Mallaidh's voice. ]
Oh..?
( In all honesty, she was never expecting him to tell her his real name (or 'old' name, she supposes is more accurate). It's obviously something he doesn't enjoy talking about or even thinking about. And sure, he's warmed to her considerably over the last few months, but when it comes to John, Mallaidh feels like she's both catching up and being too forward all at once. )
That's a good name too; can't say I like it more than 'John', but...( She shrugs a little with a light, playful arch of a brow. )
Do you know what it means?
( In all honesty, she was never expecting him to tell her his real name (or 'old' name, she supposes is more accurate). It's obviously something he doesn't enjoy talking about or even thinking about. And sure, he's warmed to her considerably over the last few months, but when it comes to John, Mallaidh feels like she's both catching up and being too forward all at once. )
That's a good name too; can't say I like it more than 'John', but...( She shrugs a little with a light, playful arch of a brow. )
Do you know what it means?
( He doesn't get a reply to the smiley face that night - did she crash in her art room? Yes. Is there now paint in her hair? Also yes, but that's not the point.
The point is, the following day, Hank receives another photo; a selfie this time, and one almost as grubby as promised. She's not up to her neck in grime, per say, but she's definitely looking like she's been lightly dragged through a hedge backwards if her hair's anything to go by, with dust and mud spattered on her shirt and accidentally smeared on her face alongside paint from the previous night.
She is smiling though, as her horse decided he wanted to be a part of the picture and stuck his face right into frame (almost pushing her out). )
If you do kick the bucket after seeing that ^, know it's been a delight talking to you.
( He stares at the picture for a good while, a dumb grin on his face. She still is every bit of pretty he claimed her to be from the first time he'd seen her. The horse isn't too bad looking either, but really he's focused on the woman. He imagines the remnants of her chores are what leave their impressions on her body. Not that he would know the first thing about farm life but the horse brings him to think there was some significant routine tasks that needed to happen, and they were messy. )
I survived through the power of being right.
I survived through the power of being right.
( 'Messy' was certainly one way of putting it. But, as she plops down outside the horse stall to rest for a minute, that reply gets a grin out of her too. )
Ah, he lives!! The day is saved!
How's your day going so far, lieutenant?
Alright. Nothing too big, yet. Finishing up some paperwork until a call comes in for homicide.
( Tilting her face up to the sky a moment, she gives it a little thought. )
It's a very biblical name, so I feel like it's definition might have something to do with God, or righteousness. Or maybe being dunked in a river.
( That was what happened to John the Baptist, right? )
Or, I suppose, the sea in your case.
[ He hadn't expected her to actually try to puzzle it out, so the fact that she makes an attempt is rather endearing even though he doesn't really care all that much about what his name means.
It's more of a tool than a part of his identity, in truth. He wasn't thinking about making a new man of himself when he chose it, so much as he was attempting to make himself utterly forgettable.
Truth be told, he still doesn't quite know who he is anymore. He doesn't want to be who he was, but has no firm grasp on who he is becoming either. Then again, it doesn't matter much. He doesn't need to be someone to do what he does. In fact, being no one is better. ]
How about "God is wet and righeous"?
[ Knowing full well that being funny is not his greatest skill, he decides to move along from that attempt with speed. ]
Look, it's none of my business but... what did you mean when you said that man of yours wasn't good to you?
It's more of a tool than a part of his identity, in truth. He wasn't thinking about making a new man of himself when he chose it, so much as he was attempting to make himself utterly forgettable.
Truth be told, he still doesn't quite know who he is anymore. He doesn't want to be who he was, but has no firm grasp on who he is becoming either. Then again, it doesn't matter much. He doesn't need to be someone to do what he does. In fact, being no one is better. ]
How about "God is wet and righeous"?
[ Knowing full well that being funny is not his greatest skill, he decides to move along from that attempt with speed. ]
Look, it's none of my business but... what did you mean when you said that man of yours wasn't good to you?
( It may not be his greatest skill, but luckily, it's very easy to make Mallaidh laugh. And it's....the first time? she's heard him even try to crack a joke, so she can't help the little laugh that accompanies her reply to that. It's mostly just...delight that he's even trying, honestly. )
Hey, if God's feeling it, He can be both, I don't see why not.
( It's unfortunate then that her smile's so quick to soften and fade when he asks for details. Of course, he was bound to - and she did agree to answer a question for a question of her own. It's just figuring out how to word her answer so that she doesn't entirely tank the mood that's tentatively settled between them.
Only, the more she explains, the lower she feels her heart sinking. )
Well, ah...the thing is, with what I am, I give creative types the inspiration they might be needing or lacking, in exchange for...love, I suppose is the easiest way to put it. The more they show me and the more sincere it is, the more I give them and the better their work becomes.
The man in question is a writer, and we were together for about a year before I agreed to give him what he wanted, because I was stupid enough to think that things would only get better. I'd had bad experiences before so I thought I'd know if someone...( Shaking her head, she takes a breath. )
The thing is, if things start to wane, I have to stop lending them my magic. It's draining if I get nothing back for it, but in this case he figured out that I was pulling away. He wasn't writing as much, he wasn't liking what he was writing, so he- uh..
( There's details, and then there's details. And those are something she's realising are much happier stuck to the back of her throat. )
...He made me continue to help him, he wouldn't let me leave. And it turns out he wasn't the sort to let threats just be words.
( With a shrug, she swallowed thickly, her heart pounding. )
And I was scared, so...I just stayed with him. ( Quieter, then; ) Not one of my better decisions in recent memory, if I'm bein' honest..
Hey, if God's feeling it, He can be both, I don't see why not.
( It's unfortunate then that her smile's so quick to soften and fade when he asks for details. Of course, he was bound to - and she did agree to answer a question for a question of her own. It's just figuring out how to word her answer so that she doesn't entirely tank the mood that's tentatively settled between them.
Only, the more she explains, the lower she feels her heart sinking. )
Well, ah...the thing is, with what I am, I give creative types the inspiration they might be needing or lacking, in exchange for...love, I suppose is the easiest way to put it. The more they show me and the more sincere it is, the more I give them and the better their work becomes.
The man in question is a writer, and we were together for about a year before I agreed to give him what he wanted, because I was stupid enough to think that things would only get better. I'd had bad experiences before so I thought I'd know if someone...( Shaking her head, she takes a breath. )
The thing is, if things start to wane, I have to stop lending them my magic. It's draining if I get nothing back for it, but in this case he figured out that I was pulling away. He wasn't writing as much, he wasn't liking what he was writing, so he- uh..
( There's details, and then there's details. And those are something she's realising are much happier stuck to the back of her throat. )
...He made me continue to help him, he wouldn't let me leave. And it turns out he wasn't the sort to let threats just be words.
( With a shrug, she swallowed thickly, her heart pounding. )
And I was scared, so...I just stayed with him. ( Quieter, then; ) Not one of my better decisions in recent memory, if I'm bein' honest..
[ John's hands clench into tight fists as he listens, his jaw hurting from the tension gathering there with nowhere else to go since that piece of shit writer isn't around to knee in the groin.
He knows only too well the pain in her voice. He has felt it, and heard it in that of many of his children. The knowledge that you were not really ever a person, but a valuable commodity. That you might be treated with kidness, yes, perhaps even feel like you were treasured for a time, but it was never really about you at all.
The shame you feel about ever having thought it might have been.
So he stops, gently taking hold of her arm so that he can turn her toward him. He's careful, because of what she said about the man threatening her, and he doesn't want to scare her.
It's dark, but he can only hope that the moon will illuminate him enough so that she can see the sincerity in his eyes when he grips her chin to turn her face up to his. ]
You're not to blame, petal. And you're not stupid. You have a giving heart, is all. He is to blame for not cherishing it, and for wanting to cheat his way into fame because he doesn't have enough soul in him to create something real.
He knows only too well the pain in her voice. He has felt it, and heard it in that of many of his children. The knowledge that you were not really ever a person, but a valuable commodity. That you might be treated with kidness, yes, perhaps even feel like you were treasured for a time, but it was never really about you at all.
The shame you feel about ever having thought it might have been.
So he stops, gently taking hold of her arm so that he can turn her toward him. He's careful, because of what she said about the man threatening her, and he doesn't want to scare her.
It's dark, but he can only hope that the moon will illuminate him enough so that she can see the sincerity in his eyes when he grips her chin to turn her face up to his. ]
You're not to blame, petal. And you're not stupid. You have a giving heart, is all. He is to blame for not cherishing it, and for wanting to cheat his way into fame because he doesn't have enough soul in him to create something real.
( As frightened as she had been back then, she's thankful that that fear doesn't grip her now as it used to. It's made her wary of falling for anyone else - or at the very least, it's made her believe she's being careful. In reality she's just been avoiding personal relationships more than she usually would, assuming that if every one is at arm's length, then friendship is all that'll occur, and thus, make no room for her to be hurt the same way.
Only, she should know better than that by now. Love happens suddenly and inconveniently and without much notice at all, and before she knows it, she's on the beach with butterflies and alarm bells respectively fluttering and sounding, soft and loud and both utterly insistent.
She slows easily to a stop when he takes her arm, tingles following the touch at her chin. Even she can't see him as clearly as she might like, she can hear the sincerity in his voice, and for a minute she's happy he can't see much of her either. )
I think I'm close to believing that, but it's hard sometimes, that's all...( Quickly wiping at her eyes with her fingertips, she made herself smile, just a little. Just enough to keep her from spiralling. She doesn't want to ruin this - if she hasn't already. )
I suppose in this context, having not much going on other than paperwork is a good thing.
Yeah, you're right about that.
How are your chores going?
How are your chores going?
Eh, they're going. The to-do list is allegedly getting shorter but it never seems like it is.
All the hard stuff's done though, so I can stop soon, for a little while anyway.
Not a farm, no - but I do have some land, and a very big garden that needs a lot of attention. That, and my horse is a giant needy baby. I like the work, but I can't imagine having any other animals, not while I'm here by myself anyway.
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