Memories

[tarot]

Tarot wanders into the coffee house, dripping with cold water. It is raining again, heavy fat rain drops that seem endless, rain drops that emphasise sorrows and pains. Tarot likes the rain. When it rains, impurities are washed away and the world feels new, this makes Tarot feel humble- an unusual feeling for a mutant.

Her eyes scower the room. It is crowded with both familiar and unfamiliar faces, mutants and humans alike. She hates it when it's busy; she prefers to loose herself in fantasy heroes and heroines rather than make pained conversation with a forced smile on her face.

No one notices her as usual, even though she stands out among the sea like a flame amidst the darkness. She breathes a sigh of relief and moves herself to a secluded corner where she can be alone. The humdrum buste of everyday life passes her by as she shrinks into the leather's familiar embrace.

Her worn out school satchel beckons to her. Desiring a means to escape, she delves absent mindedly inside. Her fingers brush against binding. It is a long time since she has thought of this. She brings the book out. It is home made, the pages of salvaged paper sewn togeher with bright satin ribbon. She fingers the spine fondly, treating it as an old and respected friend. She angles the book until the cover is visible. Emblazened on its surface in fine calligraphy, "Diary".

A feeling of dread fills her. She knows these pages contain emotions and memories of the past, thoughts that she has pushed to the back of her mind in order to survive. Turning the leaves, reliving dead hopes and dreams could destroy all that she has struggled to achieve. Can she risk that?

A single tear rolls down her cheek.

Longing floods her consciousness, a longing to relive those scarce good and happy times when she felt lilke she belonged.

[Damien Schwartz]

[[hope you don't mind?]]

Out of the bathroom, a lean 18-year old boy with tanned skin comes, and takes a seat right next to the girl. No one could possibly say that they had seen him enter it, or even the cafe for that matter. He has, however, just come out of the bathroom.

He is wearing black combat boots, black jeans, a dark purple tank top, and a black unbuttoned shirt. There is a thin black scarf wrapped around his neck, even though it is sufficiently warm in the coffee house. There is a lap top in his arms, and it is set on the desk.

He has muttered a sentence, probably, but it was barely audible in the noise of the place. In fact, it probably would have been barely audible if said in an empty room with the two right next to each other.

He starts typing something, and by the speed and stops he is making, it is obvious that it is a letter. Ah yes, another one. A letter back home, sent in hopes of a reply that would not come. He knew that it wouldn't, but he still sent the letters. Dear mom and dad... he stops. The "home" key is pressed, and then the "delete" key is tapped six times. The M is now capitalized.

He goes on. It lasts for about three minutes, and then finally he ends the mail and saves it. It is saved as a Microsoft Word document, because his parents don't have a computer and he usually types his letters on the computer and then prints them out at the Academy.

He stands up and, leaving the computer on the desk, and takes a 6 ounce cappuccino. Coming back, he sits in almost the exact same position he was in earlier, and, drinking his coffee slowly, connects to the Internet and starts surfing.

[tarot]

[[no worries, it's nice for someone to reply ;D]]

Tarot barely notices the guy as he sits beside her the first time. She glances up slightly at him and then returns her interest to her book. He looks familiar maybe a fellow student from the academy and another possible distraction she could do without.

He is attractive and dressed in a way that ought to be noticed but, like her, he had managed to slip into the coffee house unnoticed. This makes Tarot curious- could this guy possibly be like her? Little bits of memory float into her consciousness but she pushes them aside. Not now she thinks desperately I'm not ready yet

She doesn't make eye contact, keeping her bright green eyes firmly burning into the cover of the book. She strokes the surface, caressing every bump and crevace in the paper. Tears are still tumbling down her face. She feels embaressed, she's crying in a public place with a practical stranger sat next to her. At least he's more interested in his computer than me she thought, reassuring herself as his fingers hammered the keyboard. It is comforting to know that he is paying no attention to her. Still, she would prefer her privacy as she doesn't want to make conversation, she'll only make a fool of herself and besides, no one ever likes her.

This new presence spurs Tarot into action, almost as if she can control her emotions to an acceptable level while he is there. She doesn't know why, maybe it is the sound of the absent minded typing, maybe it is because she feels connected to him.

She slips her index finger under the cover slowly and cautiously. It lifts and flops on the table revealing the inside.

Automatically she lets out a loud sob and the tears flow more freely than ever before. She burries her head in her hands, twirling her red hair round her fingers in a distressed and childlike way.

There, on the front page, a photograph.

The only man she ever loved and the man that broke her heart.

[Damien Schwartz]

Half-way through the letter, Damien abruptly closes his lap top, almost in an anger fit. "Where the hell is the point..." he mutters desperately, thinking of how his parents sent him...chased him...no, call it the right way- abandoned him and sent him to this horrid city.

Sure he liked it at first, but the people here are nothing like the people in Germany, and he is sick of everything-only after a few weeks. He is depressed- why did his parents have to think of mutation as a disease? Damn it, he is dead for them! Then why the hope that he will one day get a letter in response?

Coming to a final decision, he opens the lap top, goes into the folder titled "Letters Home", which contains both unsent, and sent letters, and presses Delete.

Do you really want to delete the 40 selected files/directories? the dialog box appears. The Enter key is struck so hard that it almost jumps off the keyboard, and all the mail is now in the Recycle Bin. This does not satisfy him, so his hand moves to the mouse and right clicks on the Recycle Bin. He clicks "Empty Recycle Bin".

Again the dialog box appears, and again the enter key is almost detached from the keyboard. Afterwards, he closes the lap top with too much force, and his head is buried in his hands. "Ich habe keine Lust mehr..." he says a few words in German, and only then notices the sobbing girl in front of him. Damn it, she's not crying because I scared her or something, is she? God, this city is weird... he thinks.

"Um...Are you OK?" he asks, every word edged by a very strong German accent. Well, at least he is going to start a conversation, isn't he?

[tarot]

Tarot looks up at the boy, her green eyes overflowing with tears. The customary eyeliner has run so far down her face that there would be no point in trying to wipe it off. She doesn't feel embaressed, just devastated and crushed. She hadn't expected this photograph to be the first thing she saw when she opened the book and its appearance has left her shattered.

It is hard to get the words out against the sobs especially when she has no desire to voice them. It takes a huge effort to break the lie that she has maintained ever since he left.

"No, not really" she wails and burries her head in her hands again.

Her red hair, flaming like her sorrow, is in tangles from where she has twisted it, looking matted and ruined. She looks a mess but still the only person that notices her is this guy. She feels a connection, a shared pain and suffering.

She needs comfort and warmth. This familiar stranger feels like he can offer her sympathy and sollice, but she is not sure that she wants this. She takes her hands away from her face, moves towards his chest and burries herself in its embrace.

[[sorry it's a bit bad, your posts are amazing]]

[Damien Schwartz]

What kind of question was that? The girl is crying and you ask her if she is OK! You idiot! You really are something... he scolds himself as his eyes keep following her every move.

They widen as she launches herself into his chest. This was not what he was expecting- of course he wants to comfort her, and of course he wants to help- but this really is a surprise. And what now? he asks himself.

Still, his hands automatically, by some long forgotten reflex, move and hold her back. He is embracing her, but doesn't say anything. Also, he doesn't touch her head, and doesn't touch her skin with his hands- he doesn't want to use his power, not now.

Suddenly, a thought, an idea flashes through his mind. But no, that would just ruin the whole thing. So he doesn't blink. He wanted to bring them to a mysterious beach he accidentally teleported to one day, but this will not work, he knows that. It's not time for showing his powers, and, besides, she might very well be human.

So he just holds her like that, silent. He doesn't know what to say. And what can he say? He barely knows her, so anything in the form of "there, there, it will all be fine" is not very...appropriate, and something in the lines of "stop, you're messing up my clothes" would just be the worst thing he can say.

[[it's great... *blushes* thanks...]]

[tarot]

Tarot sobs loudly into his chest. She can feel his t-shirt getting damper and damper. It must be really uncomfortable for him but yet he does not move.

When his hands move onto her back, she feels a spark of electricity. It is comforting and warm in his embrace, removing the troubles and worries of the outside world. She feelss good venting the grief that has filled her for so long.

After what seems like an eternity, Tarot draws away from his chest, somewhat reluctantly. She doesn't want to leave his touch, his smell is intoxicating and his purple shirt soft against her soggy cheek.

She subconsciously checks herself. Oh My God! What have I just done? She pulls back fully from him and allows her hair to fall over her face.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," she says quietly, avoiding all eye contact. She doesn't want to make more of a fool of herself, although that may be impossible as she feels completely stupid.

Her movements are panicky, she goes quickly to the table, grabs her satchel and begins to frantically shove the fated book inside.

The photo falls out face up on the floor, the lovers in it burning her eyes.

[Damien Schwartz]

He is surprised by her sudden retreat almost as much as with the sudden need to be comforted. His eyes look at her blankly as she starts packing up in a chaotic attempt to be anywhere else fast.

His eyes then catch the photo that fell on the floor. Oh, so she is already taken... But then again, would it work if she wasn't a mutant? Probably not. He slaps himself mentally for even thinking about something like that, and reaches out and grabs the photo.

"Um...you dropped this. And, it's OK, really." he says, extending his hand to give her the photo, his eyes quickly flashing to the slightly wet "stain" on his chest, and then back at her.

What a strange country, USA, he concludes, thinking that he will probably have a real fun time here. Or perhaps not. This wasn't fun. It was...unexpected. Yes, unexpected.

[tarot]

Tarots mind goes blank, she doesn't know whether to take the photo or to run as fast as she can. She feels embaressed again, she and her first love together but in his hands.

She extends her pale hand and takes the photo gently, her green eyes flashing recognition of the kindness that he has shown her. She slips it carefully into her bag, feeling the need to hide it but also to preserve it.

She stares at his chest again, fleetingly. She can make out smears of eyeliner in the face shaped stain that has spread across it's purple coating. She wipes her face on the back of her hand, suddenly aware of the mess that she must look.

Should I explain? Should I smile and run? she questions herself.

She feels compelled to leave but cannot bring herself to. The connection is still there, the warm and soothing comfort of his embrace and a secret passion and longing that she had experienced in his arms. She wants to explain herself, to show that she is not a class example of an A Grade Freak.

But What If He Is Human?

Surely a human wouldn't know what it feels like to not belong. If he was human, he wouldn't be able to empaphise with her emotions or thoughts, and would dismiss her.

But it seems obvious to her that this guy is special. She wants to know more about him, be closer to him. He is an intoxicating force that takes over her senses and imagination.

She thinks of the lovers on her Tarot cards, their hot naked flesh intertwined and longs for that closeness with this familiar stranger.

Am I Mad? I've only just met this guy and I'm already thinking like this. What if he turns out to be just like him. I can't face heartbreak again.

A slight smile spreads across her face, contrasting so strongly to the floods of tears spilt earlier.

"Let me introduce myself properly after imprinting my face on your chest, " she says with a new found confidence. "My name is Marie but I go by Tarot, my mutant name."


[[your posts are so amazing, and Damien seems like the sweetest person/mutant in existence, I hope he and Tarot can get closer :-) ]]

[Damien Schwartz]

But What If She Is Human?

The thought appears in his mind as he is about to stop her, and talk to her, introduce himself. She is really pretty, and he felt a connection when she was crying on his chest.

Noticing her stare, he smiles kindly. "It's nothing, really." he says, still thinking whether he should stop her or let her go.

Suddenly, she brakes all his thoughts with that simple introductory sentence. He can't help but spread a grin across his face. His eyes are radiating joy, for some reason.

"Gott sei dank!!" he says in German, but then coughs slightly. "Sorry about that..." he says and then stops.

He is looking at her eyes. They are beautiful. He is mute for a minute, just staring at her, the grin is no longer there, but he is still very joyful.

A second, a moment, his brain freezes up. What should he say? Your name, your name, you bloody idiot! his mind shouts, but his lips make no move, and no sounds come out. He is frozen in time.

Now the typical boy problems come in his mind. What if she doesn't like me? Is my breath OK? My clothes aren't all messed up, are they? Oh God, I hope I'm not sweaty! he thinks, contrary to common reason- he had taken a shower a few minutes before coming here, and he always wears both deodorant and cologne.

Finally, the block goes away, and his lips move and the voice comes out. "Damien Schwartz, codename Phantom." he says with a smile on his face.

"Hey, can I buy you a drink?" he asks, his every word edged with a very strong German accent.

((He likes her very much, I think they already are getting closer Oh, and your last post was....damn...like, WOW))

[tarot]

[[ aw, thank you *blushes ]]

Tarot giggles gleefully. It has been so long since she last experienced raptures of joy and now it feels so good, if a little overwhelming. The warmth of happiness spreads through her body and settles on her face, broadening the already present smile and making her feelings naked for everyone to see.

His accent is gorgeous and rich, like melted chocolate swallowing her whole and leaving no remains. German, interesting and sexy

The tragedies of past events are forgotten in the rhapsody of the moment.

God, she wants to take his hand so badly that it hurts. She wants to feel his skin on hers, to loose herself in his intoxicating aroma.

She blushes. I hope his powers don't include telepathy. She thinks, feeling embarrassed at the thoughts and images flashing through her mind. If so, I hope he agrees with me She is totally euphoric.

She decides, however, to wait, Although there is an amazing, electrical connection between them, she needs to know that she can trust him fully before committing herself to him.

She looks directly into his face, her emerald eyes sparkling with passionate intensity. She doesn't care that she looks a mess or that she had weeped on his chest only a few minutes before. It seems that he is oblivious to this as well, t is obvious that he likes her and she returns this feeling strongly.

She takes a deep breath and moves slightly closer towards him, making herself at ease and approachable. "Yes, thank you. That would be wonderful, Phantom." she says calmly, with a new found courage and conviction.

[[ this is fun ;D ]]

[Damien Schwartz]

His eyes light up. She said yes. he thinks, and quickly flashes a short smile at her, his eyes telling all there was to tell. His hand moves and lands on her arm.

His eyes close for a few moments as he gets the reading from her, hiding that they have turned purple. After a while, they open, back to the old dark green. He knows every place she has been to, but doesn't say that.

Walking slowly towards the bar, and pushing only the slightest bit, he keeps looking at her, as if she is a wonderful dream which he dares not loose.

"What will it be?" he asks, the German accent distorting his words into something that sounds much like a bleak, rugged mountain. Still, it is more than understandable- the words aren't that wrong, but at this moment Damien couldn't hate his accent more if he tried to.

In fact, he doesn't like anything about himself- especially so the golden blond hair, which is dyed black. At least now he knows some of the city, even though it is for a short while.

"How long are you here?" he asks, and then sees his mistake. Well, he is German, for crying out loud, he has to have a few mistakes in his speech. But not when you're talking to her, idiot! the treacherous voice appears again.

[[Back for 2 days, sorry for the crappy post]]

[tarot]

(( yay, missed talking to you, well Tarot to Damien lol. It's a great post, not crappy at all!))

Tarot smiles back at Damien, her eyes lightening up as she realises the connection between them. She feels euphoric, love enclosing her and taking her prisoner. She is sure that she is blushing a little, the overwhelming feelings of happiness must be showing on her face.

His hand moves and touches her arm. She jumps a little, as if feeling the sting of static electricity. She giggles, but the embrace feels odd, as if from that instant he knew everything about her.

She walks willingly towards the bar, feeling his hands pushing her slightly. It is an amazing feeling, intensifying her happiness and loosing her in the dream like quality the moment possesses.

He speaks, but she does not properly understand him, his words muffled by the heavy German accent. God, that's so sexy she tinks to herself, sure that the blush on her face is increasing. She gazes up at him, at his shiny black hair that ressembles the feathers of a raven in the morning sunlight, at his drak green eyes so similar in their hypnotic gaze as hers. She realises it, this is love, true and pure unlike her previous relationships.

Damien truly cared for her and she felt for him with a passion that she had never felt before.

"I'll have whatever your having," she says, dreamily, "suprise me." a slight grin spreads across her face which she hastens to hide...

He asks her a slightly odd question, about how long she is here. She wants to sit him down and tell him all about herself without others listening in so leads him to collect their order (pushing only a little) and then takes his hand to pull him outside.

((eek, mine's a tad crap, sorry :-( ))

[Damien Schwartz]

He smiles, and orders two cappuccinos. It is his favorite drink, after all. Well, second-favorite. Beer comes first- a typical German when it comes to that. But he is not a drunk.

He follows her push. It is odd- so small a force he wouldn't otherwise notice, but this is like a whole train is acting on him, he couldn't resist it even if he tried, so he doesn't.

Picking up the two cups, his whole body listens to that one, so beautiful hand, and there is no other force that could affect him like this one. And this one is so nice, heavenly. No, heaven is not perfect enough for this wonderful creature in front of him.

"There is a table free in that corner..." he says, although insecurely. She has the final word. And her touch is so intoxicating. Another thing he notices is that he didn't get a reading of her academical knowledge, despite the prolonged contact. He can control his harvesting! But only when it comes to her.

Sie muss eine Göttin sein.

[tarot]

(( thank you, that is a beautiful post ))

Tarot slips her arm into the crock of his elbow, his skin warm against hers. She cannot take his hand being full with coffee, but if one was free she was sure that their fingers would be interlocking.

She gazes up at him, the emerald of her eyes blazing with the intensity of a sunset yet soft and innocent as the angel on the temperance card. A pure, unadulterated smile spreads further on her face, softening her features and making her look like a classic muse.

He points to a table in the corner of the coffee house. It is quite, quite enough for them to be alone and intimate. “Yes, that would be perfect,” she says, stroking his arm in a comforting manner as she can see that he feels a little insecure. She wants him to be totally at ease so that their future is an open book that they both can write in.

They move towards the table, her arm still in the crock of his arm. There are two, deep leather arm chairs, dark green like his eyes and a sofa, flame red like her hair. She steers him slightly towards the sofa, a place where they can sit together and be close. She doesn’t want to loose the contact of his skin on hers and wants to cuddle up into his side, to loose herself in his intoxicating smell once more.