i'm just a silhouette / mallory

[lena2]

the cobblestone below them was spinning into one colour. there was one stone that was especially light. she used it as her judge of spins. three. four. five. six. she counted six perfect circles before she was forced to stop herself in fear of getting sick all over the wall and the cute boy she had just met. she teetered on her toes for a moment before she had regained her balance. her legs were still a little wobbly and she didn't trust herself to walk yet, but she felt beckoned to sit next to the boy. "très bon. Je suis impressionné. vous n'êtes pas si mal au français." she was now leaning against the wall. her shoulder was only two inches from his and she felt so close to him. but she didn't mind. it was almost as if she was attracted to him. he was the last puzzle piece to fit in her puzzle. she felt that if she would just put herself next to him, he would fit into place with a soft click that cardboard did when it was fitted together. she kicked up one leg and leaned it against the wall, the bottom of her foot flat against the wall. her cheeks were red from breathing so heavily and her chest would rise and fall quickly for a moment before coming to a normal pace. "vous êtes grand et mystérieux. un utilisateur avide de cigarette avec un joli visage. vous avez de grands pieds et vous semblez être une personne terriblement ennuyeux." she drew out her last few words. making him work for the meaning of the french words. she teased him slightly and it seemed to heighten her adrenaine. why was she so interested in this boy? what did he have to offer her.
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

The spot of the wall she had chosen to lean against was very close to him. Cal couldn't see much detail beyond the outline of her profile in the increasing dark, but he could feel her proximity and hear the sound of her ragged breathing from the exertion. He had expected to feel irritated when she had turned up - that was one landscape that would forever remain unfinished - but standing next to her, with the cold breeze whipping the scent of her hair towards him, he felt so serene. With the quiet sounds of the birds in the background and the dark purple cast of the sky, the moment was so picturesque, it was almost cinematic.

Was that really how she saw him? Her description made him smile. It was so different from how he saw himself, it was uncanny; he couldn't take it to heart, but it was flattering and amusing in equal measure. The thought that she had looked at his feet brought a small chuckle from his lips. "Grand et mystérieux, mais terriblement ennuyeux. I'm mysterious, but I look boring? A tedious enigma. Oh, to be seen through another person's eyes." He ran a hand through his auburn hair, which had been ruffled by the wind. "But I think I just heard you call me handsome, weather girl." That had to be a mistranslation. "Un homme joli qui parlez Francais magnifique. If this is who you meet, maybe you should come to the wall more often."

[lena]

the words seemed to flow off of her tongue. she hadn't spoken this much french in a long time. it had been almost a year since she had addressed anyone with french. she wasn't very proud of being abnormal. she didn't like even having the opportunity to be teased because once someone saw that opportunity they would take it and make it bigger until they had the ability to hurt her in ways she's never been hurt before. this had happened too many times. it was something she could control and she for sure wasn't going to let it get out of hand again. "you yourself are an enigma. a redheaded american speaking fluent french? its like you want to be exactly what you're not." she spoke the words in english because she could tell that he was starting to slow down. he was using words that weren't conjugated properly or even in the same family of meanings. she considered this to be an offering of friendship. she rolled onto her shoulder and she studied him from head to toe. she soaked him in and tried to understand who he was through his body. the way he held himself, the way he would move his mouth and even up to the way he would move his hands as he spoke. she quite liked what she saw, he wasn't afraid to move or express or feel. at least from what she's seen of him. he was truly a free spirit. "i don't come here to meet boys. there's s much more to life than boys or anything like that." she spoke with an effort to lead this boys mind away from the fact that she meets guys here. is that really what people did? is that what he thought of her? he couldn't have thought she was just some whore that gets her business done by the walls. thats preposterous. she raked her hair back and she gave him a smile. "i don't even have a name to call you. what should i be calling you by the way?" she shivered in the dark. it was almost time to go home. she was sure of that
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

To call his French 'fluent' was a sure exaggeration, and Cal knew it. But however halting and flawed his speech may have sounded to a native speaker, the fact that he was willing to attempt it without hesitation was striking. English-speakers were known around the world for their reluctance to try any language but their own, with the arrogant assumption that other people would learn theirs. But there were certain areas of his life where Cal was always willing to meet people halfway.

Without a conscious move to do so, he had turned his body almost to face her, near to closing the space between them. He met her gaze as she studied him, catching little more than the glint of the whites of her eyes in the dark. "You didn't tell me your name. What makes you think I'll tell you mine?" he said. He'd employed that ridiculous little nickname enough to remind her of that. "It's more fun that way, don't you think?"

The curfew varied by the night of the week, and random checks were sometimes carried out to make sure that students were in their rooms by the allotted time. Cal knew that he shouldn't keep her out here much longer - particularly as sleet and melted snow had turned the uneven, rocky grounds into something a little perilous to cross in the dark - but he ignored his politer instincts, pushing the fact of the time out, unwanted, from his thoughts. It was so rare that human company didn't make him feel alone.

He didn't mean to, but somehow his fingertips made the barest brush over her cheek. "And look," he said. "Pour la fille de le temps, il fait du soleil. Il y a ciel clair."

[lena2]

he was so close to her. she could feel the heat of his breath of her face. they were of about the same height, he was maybe one or two inches taller than her but she was on her toes just the slightest bit. she couldn't stand being flat footed. it was like torture to be frank. he smelled like mints. not the gross kind that tasted like toothpaste, but the yummy butter mints that melted in your mouth with a taste that wasn't quite describable as just mint. it was one of her favorite treat to be completely honest. "i guess i'll just have to make something up. hmm. let me think." she bit her lip and swung her head so that it hung down and she was looking at her feet. she swiped her hair yet again behind her ear, making it layer on the back of her head. she had so much hair, why couldn't it just lay flat like normal peoples hair. she bit her lip and raised her head so that she was looking up at his eyes. it was a bit of a strange sight, she hadn't noticed before just because she had never seen his face so close up. after all it was nearly dark when she arrived at the wall and it had only gotten darker and smoggier since then. his face was dusted with freckles that didn't just stretch across his nose, but they were everywhere. his face looked like a map of the constellations, they made shapes and blended together and were such a colour of auburn that they matched his hair. she moved her eyes up to meet his and she noticed the strangeness in his irises. he had one eye that was a brilliant hazel green that looked like a grassland had been painted into his eye and the other was a lapis lazuli. they were both such strong colours that it was almost impossible not to fall in love with them. they made her think about which one was natural, or if they both were. or maybe he got one from mum and one from dad. it was a great mystery that she felt the need to figure out. it was stuck in her head. she had to know. "les yeux brillants. thats it. i'll have to call you that, it just fits," she could tell automatically that this would either be bad or good in his eyes. "either you are a very poetic person, or your french needs a little help." she shuffled her feet and spoke without hesitation. why was he so perfect? he must have some flaw. she hoped to point it out with this. maybe he wasn't fluent in French. maybe he didn't know her language. if that was it, she had found his imperfection. a part of her was begging for him to say yes, that he can't speak fluently, but the other part wanted him to be perfect.
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

Her face was maybe six inches away from his own. Cal stood absolutely still, his eyes glancing from one of hers to the other, as she seemed to run her gaze over each one of his features. The intensity of that kind of scrutiny could almost feel threatening - but somehow he resisted the instinct to turn his face away. Usually, he would be hoping that the dim light was forgiving - but for some reason, their facetious conversation had an air of honesty to it that made him look back boldly. He knew he wasn't much to look at.

He was an artist— or he wanted to be one; and art was, surely, the love of and the study of beauty, the elevation of beauty to the sacred level of religion. It was hard to be drawn like a moth to loveliness and, all the while, keep some vain faith that ugliness had its own charm.

He let out a quiet laugh. "Well, you believe what you wanna believe there," he said. "Maybe I have no idea what I've been saying. Or maybe I'm the next poet laureate." His gaze dropped, his idle fingers pulling bits of moss out of the cracks in the wall. "One or the other. Or both. The limits of my language are the limits of my world."

He had swallowed that Wittgenstein quote from somewhere: a magazine, the internet. Cal didn't really read a lot. He knew what he thought it meant, but he couldn't back that up with any written evidence.

"Bright eyes," he muttered, echoing what she had called him a few moments earlier. The amusement was tangible in his voice. "Nicknamed after a character in Planet of the Apes— are you trying to make me blush with that kind of compliment, huh?"

Cal picked up the sketchbook and tin of sketching pencils, stowing them under one arm. He glanced towards the school buildings, whose windows' lights were just beginning to flicker out. He straightened up, stepping away from the wall.

"We better get you back to your dorm, weather girl."

[lena2]

the sun was past setting and was resting behind the wall, taking its rest for the night. just like mallory should be doing, but for some reason she couldn't bear to leave this conversation. this was the first time in all the years since she's come to america where she actually felt proud to be french. she felt honored to know how to communicate with this poetic person. he didn't make her feel stupid when she talked and he definitely didn't try to make her speak english and she was thankful for that. he made her feel comfortable and not self aware. what more could a girl ask for in a conversation? before she could say another word like she had planned to, he spoke again in english. "i was thinking more like the bonnie tyler song, you know, eighties song with a weird music video." she referenced on of her favorite songs from the era. it was both parts beautiful and sad with a hint of poetry. the song had nothing to do with anything about this boy but it was of course, she felt like she needed a poetic name for a poetic man. or so she thought he was. he moved slightly and a sudden jolt was sent through her heart. he was leaving and she wasn't ready for that. she wanted him to stay all night and talk with her. they could use french and english and talk about the weather and maybe even just slowly become friends. she needed a good friend in her life now, her life was full of sadness and failure right now and she felt like a friend could fix that. "but what if i don't want to go to bed? after all, vous ne pouvez pas contrôler la fille météo."
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

"Météo? Not le temps?"

Well, that was more than a little embarrassing. Cal grinned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, feeling the faintest burn on his cheeks. He didn't know what other malapropisms he had come out with during this conversation, but imagined he probably spoke like a character from Allo Allo.

He didn't quite understand her statement, but could work it out by context. "Of course not; you're a force of nature," he said, reverting entirely back to English for the time being. "You'll stay up by the wall all night, listening to the wind and hoping for a tempest. But some of us mere mortals have class in the morning."

He didn't give a shit about class in the morning. He didn't want to leave: all his instincts were tempting him to stall for time, keep her there, talk to her for as long as possible. But for one rare time in his life, logic won its battle for precedence - he had to leave before she got bored of him. Leave her the littlest bit unsatisfied. It was his best chance of seeing her again.

Turning his collar up against the wind, he gave her a slightly raffish look and offered her a paint-stained hand. "These yeux brillants are also pretty sharp. I reckon I'm your best shot at finding your way over the potholes, marshes and patches of quicksand in the dark. Not to mention the fact that I can spot lions, tigers and bears at a hundred paces. So, weather girl, what do you say?"

[lena2]

Mallory took his hand, without doubting in this strangers intentions of taking her inside. The sky was dark, but not that dark. It was really not all that dangerous of a walk back into the building but something was drawing her into him. She had to know more about him. She needed to know his name at the very least, "if I'm going to walk down a drk alleyway with you, bright eyes, I think I deserve to know your name. After all, who should I tell everyone kidnapped me under the light of the moon?" her breath made small fog clusters in the air, they showed her that the temperature was below zero and she was pretty much about to freeze if she didn't get warm soon. Her unattended hand went into her side pocket and she shivered slightly. She had so many layers on and she was still freezing. "if you tell me your name, I promise ill go with you. Wherever you want." she promised him the one thing she could through chattering teeth. At least this way they could learn something about each other. And who knows, maybe she'd even let him know a few of her deep dark secrets that she been hiding all night. He just might be the one to bring her wall down and get her talking.
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

'Wherever you want': was there ever more tempting an invitation? Those three words held far too much promise, but he had to resist. He had to remember who he was: that the boy standing across from this nameless, captivating girl was just a gangly, red-headed outcast loitering alone in a deserted part of the grounds on a school night, with a book of amateur daubs stuffed under his arm and nowhere else to go. He was nothing. The way she had been looking at him made him feel like someone else, that was the problem; but she had been crying earlier, maybe she wasn't thinking straight.

The weight of her hand in his was more than just a point of warmth in the cool air. For a short moment he let his thumb trace over her palm before he caught himself.

"I'm Cal," he said. "My name's Cal."

And it was, in a way, if your true name was the name you chose for yourself. It was the name he offered to people who didn't know him, whose opinion of him hadn't yet been sullied by the legacy of humiliation that followed him around, the fledgling relationships that still held some potential. More importantly than that, it was the name that tied up with his private image of himself. Being called by the name his parents gave him felt like the vicious sting of a cane across his back. Its ridiculousness was more than just a social embarrassment: it was a lifelong symbol of how little of their careless regard he'd held as their son.

He was throwing something rare away. As soon as she spoke to her friends about the strange boy she had met at the wall, did he think she would bother seeing him again? Any chance he had was fleeting, only worth something when they were alone. Their first meeting could so easily be their last. If that was so, he didn't want to end it here.

He had taken a few strides in the direction of the school, but now Cal stopped short, turning to look at her without losing her hand. He spoke a little abruptly, the words coming out as he thought of them, and with the constraint of someone who didn't take agreement for granted. "I mean — if you really don't want to go back to your dorm yet — there's the greenhouses near the courtyard. In one of them they grow tropical plants. It's heated. We could stop there."

It was only one of many little-known places around the school that Branch tended to escape to.

[lena2]

the best part about the curfew at Mayview was that if you were out past it, you were alone. no one was there and you had freedom to do anything your heart desires. you could go skinny dipping, you could go drag racing, but most importantly you could be loud. mallory never had time in her day to be loud, it was always shush this and be quiet that. no one could ever express their inner firecracker. of course unless you're that type of person outwardly and you had a weird obsession with talking every second of every day. "lead the way monsieur cal." she said, raising her voice to be just a little below a shout. she felt free and able to talk however she pleases. it was a wonderful feeling, she just couldn't get rid of the fact that she was out past curfew, with a boy. if she had friends, she would surely tell them all about this night. how they would go on to become the best of friends, or maybe even something else. who knows! all she needed right now was the assurance that he wasn't going to leave her, and that was the best thing she could possibly think of right now.
(ooc: i know its like 150 words, but i had to post something before i left. (: )
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

Monsieur Cal. Despite himself, he felt his lips lifting into a slowly spreading smile, showing a set of teeth surprisingly straight for someone who had never been afforded braces. The title she'd given him was amusing, sure; but more so, the raised voice held an infectious enthusiasm that he couldn't help but respond to. It was as if tonight, they existed apart from the school and all its students - as if their two little parallel universes were crossing over, just for a moment. It felt perfect, crystalline. Brimming with promise. A feeling he only wished he could capture on canvas, as if any of his brushstrokes could do it justice.

Pulling her behind him by the hand, he took long strides across the grass, which the partially melted snow had turned frosty and marshy in alternate places. Now there was a new spirit in his step. They passed the empty gazebo, hearing the wind whistle through its gaps and strike the windchimes. The greenhouses were a little closer to the main buildings, near to one of the maintenance sheds; at this point Cal was keeping to the shadows carefully, vigilant of the school's windows.

The greenhouse's tinted glass seemed even greener by the fronds and leaves pressed against its walls as if they were trying to escape. The rusted old padlock at its door was no obstacle for Cal: it slipped open easily with the deft flick of someone who knew just how to trick the mechanism right, but he hid it with his hand and turned around so she wouldn't see that he had already dealt with it.

"You know, in a lot of the ancient stories - like myths and stuff - names, they're important. Like a kind of key." His hand rested on the metal, waiting; the arch in his eyebrow betrayed his teasing. "You should tell me your name, and then maybe the lock will just magically open and we'll get out of the cold. It's a trade."

[lena2]

Mallory smiled, this boy was sure something. He starTed out by blaitenly calling her a force of natures child and now he was pulling manic tricks to get her name. This wasn't just some normal encounter with a normal boy, he sure was special, and not in a bad way. "how do you know it'll open? Does my name happen to be the magic word?" she smiled and spoke the words with ease, she was in such a cheeky mood, she could say anything and it would come out just right. She wasn't nervous, if anything she was far from it, she was genuinely happy for the first time in a while and not to mention only an hour or so free she was given the grave news of her best friends death.
She gave him a moment to process her words and she let go of his hand the warmth that was surging through her body was dimming and the wind was dying down. She really hoped he would open the door sometime soon. "you know, I guess that's a fair trade. Mallory. My names mallory." she felt like some of the mystery behind her was going away and she was deeply afraid if what would happen if she didn't keep some or that mystery alive. What I. He got bored of her, there was only so much intrigue a person could feel towards another without becoming bored and uninterested in the person in front of them. she pulled her hood up and hunched her shoulders as so to keep her warmth in.
MALLORY

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[branch calix oliver]

[/style][style=width: 358px; padding: 20px; background-color: #000; color: #999; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: garamond; font-style: italic; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; border-right: 1px dotted #0A0A0A; border-left: 1px dotted #0A0A0A;]Shadows settle on the place that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line—

"Mallory. Open sesame."

With a light push, the door swung open. Cal raised a hand to brush away the shimmering threads of cobwebs strung across the doorframe, then held the glass door open, making a half-bow and a broad, sweeping gesture to beckon Mallory inside. He followed her inside the greenhouse, letting the door close behind them with a soft creak. He exhaled audibly in relief at getting out of the cold, but again, the sound of his amusement was unmistakable.

The small space was filled with row upon row of pots and troughs, leaves and flowers pressing so closely together that it was difficult to distinguish one plant from another. At the very end of the room, there was a small pond whose surface was almost hidden by the waterlilies floating on it. The humidity had steamed the glass enough to turn it almost opaque, except for the clear beads of condensation; the view of the grounds outside was little more than glimpses of passing shadows, and the occasional beam of light through separating clouds.

A narrow wooden bench stood under a canopy of leaves, which served to make the cramped little glass shed seem even more clandestine and otherworldly. Cal unlooped his scarf from around his neck and shrugged out of his jacket, letting them fall over the back of the seat before he perched on the end of the bench's arm. He let his gaze graze over the shallow, murky water before looking sideways at Mallory.

"Don't tell anybody about this place," he said. "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only one—" even in a school as small as Mayview, that was unrealistic "—but I kinda like having a few places to escape to. To think. Sketch. Whatever."

His bony, paint-stained hands smoothed over the creases in his scarf, almost nervously. A crack of a grin broke up all the freckles for a moment. "So, a few steps found a change of climate. A bubble of Amazon rainforest in eastern Michigan midwinter. Cheapest travel I ever knew."

[lena2]

something about this place was magical. it was in the air, it was just so infectious. she could see that he was effected as soon as the door was opened. it brought back memories of her childhood, the hopeless romance between her and ignorance blooming like the orchids by the door. she breathed in the enchanted air, this was worth it. if she never got to come here again, she might as well die. there was a mist overtaking the air, kind of like she was in a very thin and floral smelling cloud. it was no doubt because of the humidity. she followed suit and slung her jacket on the chair in the corner after shrugging it off. "what do you take me for? a secret seller? i wouldn't tell anyone about this place unless i was tortured. then i might spill if they bring out the needles." she said, untucking her sweater and making herself comfortable examining the brightly coloured flowers she was directly next to. she crouched down and rubbed on of the pastel pink petals between her fingers. "traveling isn't all that great, so many hotels and unpacked bags."
MALLORY

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