sixwordstories | (no subject)

[It's not the first time Margo's been in San Francisco. It is, however, the first time in well over a century. It's no different than most other major cities. There are times that she enjoys wandering off the beaten track, finding the small gems people tend to miss. And there's always plenty of them.

She takes a sip of her coffee, passing small vintage shops and boutiques. A feeling has her stopping dead in her tracks outside a small used bookstore. It's been nearly a year since she's been in contact with another Immortal. In the modern age, it's difficult to be properly prepared.

Looking around quickly, she ducks into the shop, hoping that whoever it is will just pass by.]

[She's been in San Fran for a few years now, having followed the movement of flower children sometime in the 60s or 70s. And in all the time, her life has been quiet -- no other immortals, nothing. Just her, her apartment, and the bookstore.

But now...now she has a nagging feeling. And it just happens to coincide with the ringing of the bell above the door.]

Be right there!

[She slides the book she was holding into place before scurrying down the later and making her way towards the front.]

Welcome to City Lights. Can I he...Mama? [Could it...was this possible? After all these years...?]

[Margo's heart nearly stops when the girl comes to the front. She remembers vividly the last time she saw her. The tearful goodbyes as she put her daughter into the hands of a trusted ally and watched as she was spirited away to Paris.

Now, centuries later, here she is. If it hadn't been for that 'Mama', Margo might have doubted that she was really there.]

Seraphine? Is it really you?

[She sets the coffee cup on a counter and takes a step toward her.]

It's just Sera now. Seraphine gets you strange looks. Even here. [She smiles as she speaks, perhaps the first true smile the girl has worn in centuries. For while she had made a life for herself, there had always been something missing. A hole that only her family could fill.

She closes the gap between them, hugging the older woman tightly.] I thought...I mean when...

I thought you were dead.

[Hopefully she won't fall off the ladder when the dizzying presence hits her.

The man who's just opening the door stops there, looking so wary there's almost something feral about his stance, gaze roving the place like he's seeking out every escape route, and whoever might be inside. He could just leave, but that would look even more awkward. All he really wanted was to peruse the books, and he wasn't expecting to run into another immortal. This is an unexpected complication.

He doesn't look like much, apart from the way he stands like an animal torn between fight and flight. He's tallish, face nondescript apart from the intense eyes, dressed in a long threadbare coat, t-shirt jeans and faded sneakers.]

[She almost does, but she manages to keep a tight hold on the sides, waiting until that first wave washes over her.

Her sword is in back, tucked away far from prying eyes and grabby hands. It was a gift from her mother upon her departure from England and she always had it near.

Just sometimes not near enough.

Coming down the ladder, she cautiously moves towards the door, offering Connor a small smile.] Hi. Can I help you?

[She doesn't mean him any harm, she just wants to live her life...but she has no idea what his intentions are and if she has to run, she wants to be able to move quickly.]

I... was just looking for books... [As soon as the words are out of his mouth he feels like an idiot, but he was just too surprised to come up with anything but the truth.

Up close the stormcloud grey eyes are intense, but he looks as wary as she probably feels, and the raspy, strangely-accented voice actually cracks once. His hands are both exposed, on the door, and after another second's hesitation he comes the rest of the way in, with a slightly sheepish air, and lets it shut.] ...Sorry.

Books? Books I can do... [She nods at the sorry, starting to visibly relax. Good. This was good. Not trying to kill one another was good.]

What kind of books?

[There's a brief, staring delay- either he's a little slow (unlikely, immortals like that don't last long), or he's just completely thrown by the idea that this could be a totally peaceful encounter.] ...Essays, fiction... poetry? Paperbacks. I'm... on the road a lot.

[He looks slightly sheepish, now. He's just bored and looking for something to read to pass the time. There's so damn much time.]

Edited (html fail) 2015-03-02 19:48 (UTC)

[It's your lucky day, Connor. The girl doesn't want your head. Or your power. She just wants to help you find some books.] You like French Literature? It's kind of my specialty...revolutionary, mostly. [And yes, that was her way of telling you where she was from. Well, when.]

Though I am gaining an appreciation of contemporary American.

[There's a definite hint of French in his accent, in fact, but it's also an unplaceable muddle overall. He's old enough to have traveled so widely his original accent has been lost. He's clever enough to read into the comment, though, giving a slow nod. At least the intensity of his gaze is ramping down a little, but he still seems to be trying to see through her. Unfortunately that's just him, so it's not going to change any time soon. Connor always looks like he's trying to burn holes in whatever he's looking at.]

...It's definitely familiar. [He rubs the back of his neck, slightly awkward. There's plenty of bad memories, there.] But I'm not sure I want to... read about any more wars. Have you got anything about sailing?

[Seriously? Did you not notice the rather large bay? Of course they have books on sailing.] This way...

[He's not from around here! He's not from around anywhere specific, anymore. That's where living too long gets you. He follows her up between the bookstore aisles, glancing around warily again, but things seem quiet enough. Maybe it's only the illusion of privacy, but they're both still half talking in code, anyway.]

I'm just... passing through. But... is it... a nice place to live, here? [You know, beaches, decent cost of living, not a lot of strangers threatening to chop off your head on a routine basis?]

Edited 2015-03-02 22:45 (UTC)

Not bad. [Not a lot of strangers, no. And the cost of living wasn't bad either. Of course, looking as young as she did, there were a few challenges. But she made it work.] I've been here a while now.

What about you? Anywhere particular you're passing through here on the way to?

[Looking young forever can have its disadvantages. Connor's lucky to be on the tall side, and the five-o-clock shadow isn't just laziness, it helps age a youthful face.]

...No.

[Should he be embarrassed he's living out of his car when it's half by choice? He's not hurting for money, but he doesn't feel like he belongs anywhere, anymore.] I don't... I'm not settled, anywhere... right now...

[He looks awkward anyway.]

Sera. I like it. [Margo holds her tightly, refusing to let go for the longest time. Eventually she does, taking a step back so she can get a good look at her. Of course, Sera hasn't changed physically, but there's a few differences. God, she had never thought she would ever see the girl again.]

It was close. I almost didn't make it. After...it took me so long to travel to Paris. And when I arrived, Darius told me you left.

Why not? [Forever's a long time to be wandering.]

Don't you find doing the Jack Kerouac thing lonely?

[Oh. Right. That. It doesn't matter that she's centuries old -- that she is an adult several times over -- at that last sentence she still looks a bit sheepish.]

About that...

Sorry.

Sometimes lonely is better than risking the people around you getting hurt.

[He didn't really mean for it to come out so blunt, but tact has never been his forte. Leave that to his kinsman... who wishes he'd keep in better contact. The wandering is a newer development, after losing the mortals he loved as family to a rogue immortal who wanted to rig the Game.]