paradisalogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Spike (

gottaknockhard), Lucrezia (

heloise), Joshua (

ofhope), Brock (

samson), and Molotov (

molotov)
What: Unfortunate results of cosplay
When: July 7th
Where: Brock's cabin -> Joshua's mansion
Rating: PG

The whole thing had been a pretty funny joke, if Spike stood back and looked at it. The obvious, harmless kind that the castle always takes one step too far.

When he went to the party, he hadn't actually planned on being invested in any of the festivities. His purpose for stopping by had involved curiosity over someone who he really had no right to be checking on, and maybe getting a bite to eat. Somehow that led him to wearing a costume of one of his best friends, right down to the toy knife at his side and a yellow wig that kept him scratching at his neck as it brushed against it. That was awkward enough, but the fact that Lucrezia took his lead and dressed as Brock's wife, just added a few layers.

Regardless, he hadn't needed much convincing when Lucrezia asked him to take her home.

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Now it's Spike's turn to look confused. Guard? What the hell does that mean? He nearly asks when Lucrezia starts talking about Molotov training her, and he stops walking altogether.

A second or two passes before he manages to bury it enough to start again.

"I thought you seemed friendly."

Well, she wasn't really important in Joshua's life, since she was long since dead, but in her mirroring of Rosette, well... That's more Chrono's issue than Joshua's. He likes certain brunettes just fine, there's no worrying for that.

"Oh, that one... What counts as misbehaving?"

Edited 2013-07-21 07:21 (UTC)

Lucrezia turns to smile at Spike, to make sure he is still there mostly, because she thinks his company might help. If not Joshua then herself. There are still times when she doesn't know what to do to help and that's the worst part.

"Punching would count," she moves to rest her arm against his hips and lead him along, reaching her other hand for Spike so that none would be left behind. "Show him what we have brought, Spike. The lanterns."

He's still there, in the physical sense. Mentally he's just barely keeping up, preoccupied by trying to figure out the missing pieces. But there comes a certain point when the questions add up too much, and you learn to cope with finding none of the answers. It's a lot easier to go along with it than wondering who to be concerned for and why.

"Here," he says, slightly delayed. Pulling out the lanterns he had hooked in his other arm, he holds it out for Lucrezia's hand -- because holding it now seems even more awkward than it did the first time, and it's easily misinterpreted.

Joshua intercepts her attempt to take them, releasing her so that he can instead pick them up from Spike's grip, smiling pleasantly at the image of them, and not even at the idea of using them. Right, isn't he supposed to, as well?

"Did...everyone like the idea?"

"Everyone," Lucrezia is happy to let him take the lanterns, keeping her eyes on his face to gauge his response. When she glances at Spike, there is an I told you he would like it in her smirk, as if this is a shared surprise and part of his plan too.

"But some wrote down their wishes while others would wish certain things away. And you?"

All part of the plan, sure. As if lifting Joshua's spirits and aiding him along to health should be his top priority. Because he considers that the honorable thing to do in his system of debts and payments? Or because of Lucrezia?

Spike doesn't want to think about it, so he looks away from both of them and keeps his pace silently beside them. Lucrezia is the better one to explain anyway, he never quite pays enough attention.

A little shrug follows her inquiry, just as he follows after her steps, like he doesn't know the way around his own (inherited) mansion.

"Who knows... Just something I read about once. Maybe to say goodbye."

For all the detours, it is a relief to finally reach the mansion's door. Home at last. She doesn't mind breaking tradition to open the door for the gentlemen but stops short of doing so, hovering there a moment to look at each in turn.

"To Colette? And Julia."

Spike has been going along without protest, but this night has proven how bad of an idea that can be. Apparently hearing her name twice is all it takes to cross that line with him.

"I've had enough fun for now." It's late enough that he can use that as his excuse if asked. He got her home, that should count for enough.

Joshua stops at the mention of the woman's name, mild confusion flickering across his gaze. He vaguely recognizes it, but Spike's reaction is enough to jog his memory, though that doesn't help the confusion. He had never said Julia's name around Lucrezia, had he? He can't remember.

One hand reaches out to grab Spike's arm, grip unyielding as the horns have yet to fade. There is a thickness to the air then, almost, as if time is slowing, the oxygen becoming harder and harder for the lungs to find.

But then it clears, and he sighs, while looking pointedly to Lucrezia. At her; into her. "If you didn't meet her...you shouldn't say her name." This could seem to be in Spike's defense, but more-over, Julia is a power that Lucrezia doesn't understand, that Joshua understands almost better than Spike himself. Her memory is a tool he earned through his own actions, and while he usually loves to humor Lucrezia, some things will remain his territory.

His grip on Spike relaxes, then releases, and he walks into the mansion ahead of them. His voice echoes cheerily as the maid waiting by the door turns to follow after him. "Come on, we'll eat s'mores and light these out back."

Edited 2013-07-31 02:01 (UTC)

Lucrezia lets her smile drop to reveal a colder mask underneath, perhaps she truly cares not whether her words may wound or perhaps she is only slighted by the reprimand. She makes little effort to ease the tension either, eyes following Joshua when he speaks to her but trailing to watch Spike when the former has walked by. He is the one who could, but shouldn't, leave.

The mention was meant less to hurt him than to provoke him into revealing more of himself, even if those go hand in hand. She doesn't want to be outside looking in anymore. When her smile returns, it is carved, cold and hard, but it's there at least, and she even offers him her hand as a peace offering.

"Have you ever had s'mores, Spike?"

As tense as Spike already is just by the subject of Julia being breached without his consent, he doesn't even flinch at feeling Joshua's sudden grip. The padding in his arm doesn't feel like it's there at all in his hand, and for a moment he wonders if he's planning on dragging him inside or even ripping it off. Only remembers to breathe once he releases him and starts to head inside.

Spike's gaze stays on Joshua as he enters, maybe in part because he can tell Lucrezia has turned hers to him. He answers once he thinks Joshua is out of earshot, like he didn't hear a word they said.

"What's wrong with him?"

It's her turn to reach for Spike's arm to keep him from following Joshua, perhaps to keep him out of earshot too, but then Lucrezia thinks that the boy can hear everything in this world anyway. But this way he can then pretend he didn't hear if he should choose.

"Colette left." If any fear or sorrow pass across her features, it is quickly replaced with a wry smile to hide them. She fears for him when he is fragile this way, even if his strength shows more clearly now or perhaps he lacks the will to hide it. She doesn't want him to know that sometimes she is still afraid too.

"My father's mistress carries the same name," she means Julia. Giulia. Spellings matter little when she is Lucrezia, Lucrecia, Lucretia. "But most call her La Bella Farnese, for her most divine face."

Spike yields to her when she grabs his arm, since even he recognizes that question as reckless. He doesn't know why he asked in the first place, only that he didn't know how to react to inadvertently revealing something she was better off not getting a hold of.

Joshua's reaction to someone leaving is pretty extreme, and he's sure that there's more to it than that, but he accepts it without pushing further. He can't, when Lucrezia keeps him so far on the defensive.

There's a possibility that she's talking about the other name she learned, and he's very careful with how he responds.

"Collete. I don't think I met her."

Lucrezia grips his arm tighter before she lets go with a sigh, tired mostly. Keeping up appearances take the greatest toll but she can only ever let slip the parts that are still half-pleasant. That is the way to earn sympathy but not pity.

"She is beautiful. Bright as the sun and as sweet as can be."

But she may be speaking of a dream girl instead of anyone real. There is no way to tell now.

They had a right to be tired, her more than anyone. Spike wasn't half of the life of the party compared to what he saw of Lucrezia. Not to mention that he's more draining to hang around than most men in curly blonde wigs. And yet she's still taking the time to help him understand.

It's rare anymore that he'll see past his own problems to consider someone else who is mourning the loss of... whatever Colette is to him. For all he knows, it's one way that the two of them relate.

He takes a breath and eases up his tone, relaxing some of the tension he's been carrying since the cabin.

"I guess everyone has a type."

Her smile is wry. Perhaps this is how it feels to always be second to someone else set up so high on a pedestal that there is no chance to compete. It is when she thinks of such things that she misses her brother so terribly but it does not bear saying, when she doubts anyone else would understand the weight of her longing. Some things are better kept unsaid, or so he said.

"So we all do," she turns to watch him, but less to scrutinize and more to show him that she is still present and aware of his company. "Am I, bright?"

He tilts his head as he looks back at her, like that question took him by surprise. It shouldn't though. Living in that mansion has to have some kind of psychological effect on a person.

"Despite the company you keep." Said with a light smile, even if he means it.

The answer seems to please her or perhaps it was his smile instead. Either way she is grinning again in that way of hers that wipes away whatever gloominess crept upon her face before. Without a trace.

"But the moon can never be brighter than the sun." She isn't kind enough to explain, but she does glance over her shoulder to invite him to follow when she moves to step in.

The sun and the moon. She certainly enjoys her metaphors.

He must too, because he doesn't back away as he intended. It isn't good for him that she can recover and still convince him to do what she wants; which is becoming a theme with him, it seems. He's even aware of this fact, and he still steps forward after the initial hesitation.

Maybe he can make the most of this. Convince them to give him the guest room, and be able to pull this wig off by morning.

Metaphors are easier to say and more concise too. So much said with only a few words and still blanks are left on the page for a dash of mystery. She thinks it is the latter that has him following her still and so she intends to keep it.

"I will have the maids bring your supper to your room. I hazard you know how to find your way." There is no convincing needed.

Lucrezia has started to become an expert in reading his mind. Another sign that he's been spending too much time hanging around, after he knows exactly what that leads to.

He nods, following behind. No use for protest now unless he wants to cause a scene. Better that he save face and show how unbothered he is by the whole ridiculous situation.

Lucrezia stops just by the end of the hall, turning about to smile his way, all brightness and light.

"Will you not kiss me goodnight?"

He halts his steps for half a second, just long enough that he can't recover before she can see the dumbfounded look on his face.

"That's very funny."

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heloise - 2013-08-04 14:23 (UTC) - Expand

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