Unreality [DawnsLight]

  • So many newbies lately! Here is a very important PSA about one of our most vital content policies! Read it even if you are an ancient member!
Status
Not open for further replies.
Flinne grinned. "I love all their music." He let out a pleasant sigh. "I found myself listening most to the songs they'd botched. It made me feel good whenever our band botched things horribly." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, I think my favorite songs were the ones that were never meant to be accompanied by an electric guitar. 'Tomorrow', 'One Tin Soldier', 'I Write the Songs', and 'She Believes in Me' are my favorites." He rolled his eyes. "I'll swear that they're geniuses, all of them." He grinned when her digits brushed his arm, and his heart gave a trill of joy.

The request for singing made him arch an amused brow, and he hummed ponderously. "I suppose I could be convinced to sing for you, but I'm afraid I don't have a band any longer." It was almost as if he hadn't noticed the wrong-facing shadow. And in a way, he hadn't. It had become so second nature to avoid them, that even in this <i>real</i> world he did it without thinking. When they were seated, he thought for a moment, and grinned rather suddenly. "That's it. I can hook up with a local band. They're not going to need to know my social, and it'll pad-" He almost said 'our'. Maxine had hated it when he did. "-my wallet. Which reminds me, I'm going to have to pick up a wallet some day."

Grinning at Aria, he winked. "You're brilliant." He glanced at the name on the top of the menu, and he caught himself humming a snippet of 'Mona Lisa'. His cheeks colored, and he glanced up from the menu. "Is it really so difficult to picture me a punk?" He mused. "I dyed my hair black. Wore heavy boots, and a kilt. Had to practice daily to build up enough angst to perform. I managed to avoid tatooing myself, however." He paused.

"They do burgers here, right?"
 
His enthusiasm was enough to make her quickly forget the incident. She couldn't remember the last time she had been out and having this much fun. "Okay, 'Tomorrow' and 'She Believes in Me' are awesome, I have to agree with you about just how great the guitar sounds in them even though it was never meant to be there. I can't peg a real favorite, but I guess it could be a toss-up between 'Country Roads' and 'Ain't No Sunshine'."

Aria waved off Flinne's compliment and smiled widely. "I've never dated a guy in a band before, it sounds like it could be exciting," she said, her cheeks coloring before she ducked behind her menu. Are we dating? This feels like dating. Her thoughts came in a rush and she found she had to clear her throat before she spoke. "I guess I overlooked that yesterday, sorry."

Peeking over her menu, she tried to imagine him as he described himself and found herself giggling. "Sorry, all I can see is the kilt and the boots; but really you had to practice to be angsty? Flinne, I don't know what to make of you..." Aria's statement hung almost as if unfinished, but the three words that would have completed it just couldn't come yet. Instead, she leaned across the table to flip his menu over to the lunch side. "Sure do, from plain to peanut butter-bacon." She wrinkled her nose a little, still smiling, "I haven't tried that one myself, even I have my limits. I think I'll stick with breakfast. It's never a bad time for pancakes."
 
Flinne smiled fondly. "Country Roads was one of the first songs I got to punk up." He lifted a hand to rub at his clean jaw bashfully. "I love them all. Delta Dawn would be my favorite if the only recording didn't have them cutting out midway through the song when the lead's voice broke." He rolled his eyes. The casual mention of dating didn't even seem to register with Flinne. When he glanced up however, and his dreamer was ducking behind her menu, his brows rose.

"Overlooked what?" He asked, obliviously. "I don't know there's anything you ought to be sorry for, but if there is I can certainly forgive you." He waggled his brows, playfully.

He wrinkled his nose, pondering his old punk attire. "It's an adventure." He mused. "Men forget that women have to learn an entirely new way to move when they're wearing skirts. Or they have to be trashed thoroughly enough not to care what they're flashing. Or who." He glanced to the menu when Aria flipped it over. He grinned when he saw it. The king of burgers. The burger he'd not had in <i>years</i>. The classic. The american. The bacon cheeseburger. "Peanut butter and bacon will have to wait. It's been so long since I've had a proper bacon cheeseburger that I can barely remember the taste."

He grinned sheepishly up at Aria. "A man's allowed a vice or two." He paused. "So, miss Aria, I'm dying to know;" He let his menu lay against the table. "Is there more to that lovely name of yours? I should have asked earlier perhaps, but it's better late than never. No?"
 
Setting her menu and her elbow on the table, Aria leaned in to rest her chin on her hand. "I guess a vice or two is acceptable; like I said, I'm a meat kind of girl and going that long without a bacon cheeseburger is a situation that needs to be remedied immediately," she said, a chuckle in her voice. His question following gave her pause and she chided herself for overlooking such a simple detail. Feeling silly, she answered: "Garza. Aria Garza. And how about you, O Mysterious Flinne, is there more to your name? It's something that I've wondered about as well."

Before he could answer, their harried server made an appearance to drop perspiring water glasses at their table and collect the menu along with their orders. Aria ordered coffee and the chocolate chip pancakes; a special occasion deserved a little splurge.

Orders collected and the server zipping off to the kitchen again, Flinne once more had Aria's full attention. "Before we were interrupted, you were saying?"
 
Flinne smiled appreciatively at the name. "Aria Garza," He said, testing the name on his tongue. He liked the sound of it. He even rolled the 'r's. At least until the server arrived to take their orders. He added a proper cola to his meal, and grinned sheepishly at his darling rescuer. He leaned back in his seat, and tucked his hands into his pockets. He'd hoped she'd forgotten about his name with the interruption, but he was going to have no such luck.

Grimacing in mock-pain, he hung his head. When he looked up, he was trying -and failing- to glare at the dreamer. "You have to swear that you won't laugh. No matter how difficult you may find it, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. No laughing."

He broke his eyes away, and his hands came out of his pockets once again, to lean his elbows on the table. "Flannery." He murmured, quietly. His parents had been Irish, and they'd had a cruel sense of humor. [Short, sorry. >.<]
 
She was trying. She really really was trying very hard. To Aria's credit, she lasted an entire minute before her shoulders began to shake in quiet giggles. "Ohh, Flinne! I'm so sorry...I really- but Flinne Flannery? Oh my..." She trailed off, wiping her eyes. She beamed at him from across the table, "I like it. And I like how mine sounds when you say it." Her cheeks colored prettily, and she glanced out the window, the light of her laughter still in her eyes. It explains the kilt, she thought, and had to suppress another bout of amusement.

"I could talk to some of the case workers over me when I go back to work, see about getting you established. Paperwork, that sort of thing. It might be complicated, but it's possible," she spoke softly, waiting a while before returning her eyes to him to gauge his reaction. "You could have a life, have a job. Then if you did decide you didn't want to live with me, you could..." Aria found that she couldn't continue to voice the thought. Instead, she lowered her eyes to the table where her hands rested. She shook her head as if casting an unpleasant thought aside.
 
Flinne let out a theatric groan, and let his head slump to his arms, laid upon the table as they were. "Cruel, cruel world." He mumbled. The self-conscious smile on the Survivor's face when he rose again said that he didn't mind Aria's mirth terribly. He scooted to one end of the booth, and propped his feet up allong the length of it. "I do have a life," He pointed out. "An illegal life perhaps, but I'd like to see them try to deport me." He snorted, derisively.

"But I think I'd like that. To be... <i>real</i> again." Again, his eyes swept to Aria, and he leaned nearer. "And I'll tell you what; if we get me a life, and I get a steady job, and you decide you want me gone, I'll go." After a moment, color filled his cheeks, and he broke his eyes away uncertainly. "But if you want me to stay, I'll stay. I'd like it if you wanted me to stay." He said, gaze flicking bashfully back to the Dreamer. Could this be the hard-boiled Survivor, who'd watched his reality collapse around him?

He hurried on. "And I think I'd like to meet with these scientists of yours. I might be able to give them some firsthand... Stuff."
 
This change in him, and the lightness of his spirit lightened Aria's own. She found herself smiling again in no time. It seemed like ages ago any smiles were either hard-won, or bitter, or both; not the easy grins and almost school-boy-like smiles and flushes of color to his cheeks that he blessed her with now. She shook her head once more, and reached across the table to give his hand a warm press.

"I want you to stay, Flinne. I want you. I just want to be honest with you; I feel like you deserve that," she paused, hazel eyes finding his brilliant green and locking there. "I'm scared to death of-"

The server's timing really was uncanny. She lay down food and beverages before the two with studied efficiency, asked if they needed anything else, and was off. Aria was thankful for the interruption this time.

"I'm sure that they would like to meet you too," she said, taking a bite of pancake before she said anything else that might ruin the day.
 
Flinne compartmentalized rather well for a man that had just come back from what would be considered to many eyes, hell. He gave her fingers a fond squeeze when the girl reached across to touch his hand. He frowned faintly when the waiter returned just in time to cut whatever his lover had had to say short. The sight of the bacon cheeseburger however dashed all concerns from his mind, and his mouth began to water.

No, he assured the girl, he didn't need anything else. He simply stared at his burger for a time, his mouth watering. He was afraid that it would disappear if he tried to touch it. Slowly, he took the burger in hand, and closed his eyes. The scent of fresh, greasy beef, bacon, and cheese on a warm bun filled his nose. His stomach gave a rumble of assent, and he took that first bite.

And all was right in the world.

Flinne let out a groan that might very well have fit in the bedroom, and he slumped in his seat. At the very least, he managed to finish chewing before he spoke. "Dear God above, I thought I'd never eat a cheeseburger again." The man loved his burgers. He glanced up from his lovely slab of ground beef and pig, and paused his ravenous gulps of food to sip at his cola, before resuming. He slowed midway through the burger, and only then thought to glance up apologetically to his breakfast-partner. "I'm making a pig of myself." He said. He made himself set the burger down, to take a few fries in hand. "So where are we? City, state, all that. We are in the states, Right?"
 
His reaction to something so simple as a greasy cheeseburger had Aria in fits again; it was a wonder that other diners didn't complain given the "When Harry Met Sally" noises and the laughter. Grinning at Flinne over her steaming mug of coffee, Aria relaxed and nodded.

"Yep, in the states. We are presently in the state of constant heat and humidity otherwise known as Louisiana, and the fine old city of New Orleans. Bienvenue a Nouveau Orlean, Flinne." she grinned.

"You'll be happy to know, it has a great music scene and incredible food. Welcome home." Her eyes danced merrily as she took another large bite of fluffy chocolate-chip goodness.

(And also sorry so short!)
 
Flinne grinned cheesily, and dug into his burger all over again. People be damned. He had a beautiful woman, and a cheeseburger, and if they didn't like the noises he made they could all go dance in the shadows. It took him a few minutes to disappear the thing in it's entirety, and he began to pick at the fries as he sipped the coke. "New Orleans?" He asked, incredulously. "I've always wanted to go to New Orleans." He grinned like a kid in a candy shop.

"Always meant to go, just never had the time." He murmured. "And thank you. For bringing me... Home." He smiled. He liked the sound of that. He was home. With Aria. Before he got too sappy, he switched track. He was in <i>New Orleans!</i> "You'll have to show me... Everything. People. Places. Music. God, I'm going to be a musician in New Orleans." He frowned. "Maybe I should rethink the punk gig. I don't know if I've got the right sort of soul for blues, though."

Up his eyes came to the lovely dreamer that had become his world. "Those good?" He asked, nodding towards her pancakes.
 
Nodding as she finished chewing a mouthful, Aria held up a syrup-soaked bite at the end of her fork, "Mmm, heavenly; want to try?"

Aria grinned across the table at her lover, drinking in his childlike enthusiasm for her city. "It looks like we're going to have to take a walk, then! I am ever your willing personal tour guide." She spread her arms and bent at the waist in a formal little half-bow from where she sat, her hair falling over her shoulders in glossy waves. She tossed them back when she sat up. "And you don't have to be a blues singer to be a musician here, I think you'll do just fine doing what you're good at. Maybe we could see who's playing at Checkpoint Charlie's and catch a show sometime," she mused.

Finishing her coffee and moving her half-finished plate aside, Aria leaned her elbows against the table to once more rest her chin in her hands and drank in the sight of Flinne. He was just too kind, too terribly romantic for her earlier misgivings to take root. Feeling lightened, a sly smile curled the corners of her lips upward once more; she ran her foot lightly against his leg under the table. Her need for food was sated, but she found her appetite for this achingly handsome man across from her was never-ending.

"It's your turn, Flinne. Where were you from? I want to know everything-" Their waitress was back, dropping the bill and making sure they enjoyed the meal; the place was beginning to thin out and she lingered by the table a little. Aria dug for her wallet, looking askance at the young woman and suddenly eager to leave.

Bill settled and waitress dismissed with a not-entirely-unkind nod, Aria gathered her things. Standing, with a quirked smile on her face, she offered her hand to Flinne. "Mr. Flannery?" She asked with a throaty chuckle. "What shall we do with the rest of our day?"
 
Flinne grinned, and took up his yet-unused fork. "Don't mind if I do." He mused, and he leaned across the table to spear himself a little piece of pancake. Again, his table manners left something to be desired, but he <i>tried</i> to keep himself in line. He pondered the bite he'd just taken, approving thoroughly of the double-sweet chocolate-chip-and-syrup pancake flavor. He let his fork clatter to the plate idly, and leaned foreward on his elbows as his he pushed his plate -still with a few fries left- foreward.

When Aria ran her foot fondly against his calf, he found himself grinning once more. His attention was diverted briefly by the waitress, arriving to drop off the check. Flinne grimaced at the use of his last name. It wasn't so bad all on it's own, but with his first name thrown in, it made him sound like some fluffy sort of desert. He rose once again, and offered his arm to his lover.

"Well, I'm from up north. We moved around quite a bit when I was a kid. Born in Pennsylvania, raised -mostly- in Minnesota. I was in Duluth when everything started to go to hell." He rolled his eyes. "We had this quaint little pub that served traditional Irish fare." He let out a fond sigh. "As to what we'll do today, I think we ought to do a walk about. I'd hate for a date this pleasant to end so soon." He winked. "After that, we'll head home, and you can get around to deciding whether you like me better clean shaven or scruffy, and I can see if you've got everything I need to make some Shepherd's Pie."
 
While they talked, Aria walked with Flinne, taking him down a narrow tree-lined avenue for a few blocks until it intersected with a much wider street. Quirky specialty shops and eateries ran along either side, the veranda-shaded sidewalks thronged with people of all walks of life out for a stroll. It was an odd and eclectic mix of both people and commerce, multi-pierced and tattooed punks amiably sharing space with wizened well-to-do grandmothers in a shop for knitters, the bright yarns displayed artfully in a window. Business men and women eating fried shrimp and oyster sandwiches outside in the heat while cars rolled by. One establishment advertised reclaimed-item art and coffee-can lamps next to another that sold nothing but lingerie next to yet another that billed itself as an upscale Irish barber. Aria pointed out the sights to Flinne, taking time to tell him the cross streets and which way to go to either get downtown or to the river.

Aria gave a little mock-shiver despite the clinging warmth of the air when he mentioned his childhood home. "I don't know if I could survive up north, it just seems so cold. I don't know how anyone can stand it." She laughed lightly, trying to imagine a day below 30 degrees. It seemed like a dreary prospect; she would take heat and humidity over that any day, even if the thought of snow intrigued her. "I guess snow is pretty, though. I might brave it to see snow," she said absently, something having taken her eye from Flinne's face for a moment.

"Magazine street has the best shopping," she mused, smiling and taking note of some of the items on display as they strolled past. Aria couldn't remember the last time she had felt so happy. Being with Flinne, the way their conversation flowed so easily, seemed as natural as breathing now. Even the impossible way he had come to be with her just the day before- and she did have to remind herself that it was only the day before- seemed to pale beside actually being with this stunningly handsome, very real, very vivacious man. Aria found herself not wanting to let go of him and the thought made her heart skip. Lost in thought, she walked on beside him until a sudden thought occurred. She leaned in to give his smooth cheek an affectionate peck. "Want to get out of this heat for a bit and ride the streetcar?"
 
Flinne grinned, at all the sights. He soaked it all in. It all felt so <i>real</i>. So alive. Like the city itself were a great beast, and the people thronging through it's streets were the lifeblood. With the grease of a good american cheeseburger settling in his stomach, and a pretty girl at his elbow, he couldn't have been happier. They didn't even have to shift out of the way of any wrong-facing shadows as they meandered. At the mention of his home, he grinned. He loved the winters.

"They're not so bad, you know. Most days, you don't even need a coat. Not unless you're in the dead of winter, anyhow."

His brows rose at the prospect of riding a streetcar, and he felt his grin broaden yet. "Yeah," He said. "I think that would be good." After a moment, he added, "It's not so bad up north, though. I'm used to the chill of course," He mused. "But if it gets too warm around here, I might have to go back to wearing a kilt." He slung an arm rather casually about Aria's waist at the faux-shiver. He craned his neck at one particular passing punker with an admirably colorful mowhawk. "Although I don't think I could pull off the 'hawk any more." He wrinkled his nose. "So how do these magical streetcars of yours work?" He said, his eyes alighting on his dreamer merrily.
 
Once more the thoughts of a kilted rainbow-mowhawked Flinne racked Aria with helpless giggles. She shook her head, tossing her dark hair in order to cast the image from her mind. "I think I like you the way you are, if we're being totally honest." The wide grin remained on her lips and she leaned into him a little at the arm about her waist.

She led him down a back street where huge houses loomed unexpectedly out of gardens so lush they seemed almost overgrown. Tall wrought-iron and concrete fences surrounded these opulent homes, half obscuring their richly designed courtyards nestled within the greenery. Soon, the pair came upon another wide avenue divided by a grassy median and nearly canopied by gnarled oaks lining either side. Colorful strands of beads sparkled in the intense sunlight, caught as they were in the overhanging branches and the lines of the streetcar that followed the back of the tracks in the center of the median. In the distance, a streetcar was smoothly rumbling towards the stop near where they had emerged.

Aria smiled at the luck of their timing and crossed traffic to get to the stop. It was only a short matter of time after that they were tucked safe onto one of the car's antique wooden benches, bathed in air that was blissfully cold and rolling by the treasured old plantation-style homes and famed gardens that gave the district its name. "This is St. Charles Avenue," she told him quietly, taking in the sights. No matter how many times she had been down this street it never lost its ability to awe her; "it just doesn't get any richer around here."

Hazel eyes turned to regard him, shining with the smile that Aria just couldn't seem to get rid of nor did she want to. "Whatcha think?"
 
Flinne couldn't get enough of the scenery. The rich, vivid, liveliness of everything was... There just wasn't any sort of explanation for it. A little voice in the back of his head, the one that had kept him alive during his time in his own world, told him the city was a deathtrap. There were so many shadows everywhere, and even if they weren't all wrong-facing, they- He muted the voice, as they stepped out onto the street.

He hurried alongside Aria, his head on a swivel as they darted through traffic to catch the streetcar that she'd mentioned. The city was... Classic. Beautiful. It had flavors of the past, and the present, and it was a <i>dream</i> to Flinne. When Aria sat herself down on one of the benches, he eased himself down beside her. He looked like a tourist. He didn't have the clothes for it, but the slightly wide-eyed excitement told the story perfectly.

He craned his neck to follow the old plantations for as long as he could see them. "This..." He said, trailing off for a moment, as he managed to tear his eyes away from the window. "This is amazing." He said, beaming. "And I think I wouldn't like it half so much if I didn't have someone to share it with." He pointed out. "You sure know how to treat a guy, miss Garza." He bumped her gently with his shoulder. "I didn't know the half of it before I came, you know. Pictures, movies, they don't do it justice."
 
At Flinne's delight in watching the scenery, Aria felt a swell of pride. This was her city, and she was proud to share it with him. Thoughts of shadows didn't even register; this was all just too good and too normal for anything otherworldly to intrude. She beamed right back at him and returned the playful bump in kind. "Well Mr. Flannery, you know how to sweet-talk a girl. Offering to cook her dinner, complimenting her like she's some sort of goddess; it could go to a woman's head if you keep it up."

Turning her back to the window and leaning against it, Aria crossed her legs and smoothed the skirt of her sundress over her knees before looking back to her companion. Would those eyes ever cease to surprise her? They were as bright as the sunlight streaming through the oaks around them. She found herself just watching him for a while, vicariously rediscovering the wonders that this one small part of the Crescent City held. She wanted to kiss him again, but didn't dare for fear that he might not want to miss anything.
 
Flinne rolled his eyes amusedly at the use of his last name. "Maybe when I become a real person again I'll tell them my last name's Smith, or something." He folded his hands in his lap, as he stared at the beautiful city. Even as he stared, he spoke. "And it feels nice to compliment you. To let you know that I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time. And if it makes you feel any better, I'll be cooking you dinner with your own food. And you've yet to taste it. I could make a mangled mess of your kitchen yet, you know. There's nothing to say my food doesn't taste like tar."

He pulled his eyes away from the sights. For as many beautiful places, and interesting people that the city held for tourists' voyeuristic impulses, Flinne's eyes just kept coming back to Aria. "Tell you what," He said, his faintly luminous green gaze locking on Aria's own. "You show me the beauties of your town, and one day -when we've got time- we'll take a trip up north." He turned his eyes to the windows once again. "It had it's own sort of beauty. An uncivilized sort of..." He glanced yet again at his dreamer. He colored. "I'm getting wordy again."
 
Seeing the flush creep into his cheeks, Aria moved to rest her hand lightly on Flinne's where it lay folded in his lap. Aria stammered a little, suddenly bashful again but determined to reassure him. "No, I like it. I like when you describe things for me. And I would love for you to take me up north sometime. Provided I can bring a parka, of course." She smiled playfully, batting one eye in a coquettish wink.

"And if you wreck my kitchen, we'll just have to get take-out again. You'll still have to wear my apron of course; I didn't forget about your promise, you know." Aria tried to look serious, even superior and failed miserably. With a low chuckle, the smile returned to her full lovely lips and she leaned further forward to press them against Flinne's in a deep and tender kiss. He wasn't looking outside at the moment anyway, she reasoned.

They had begun to emerge from the garden district and the buildings began to loom up around them as the streetcar moved further downtown, letting on and off passengers as it went. Shortly, they came to the end of the line where the green car of St. Charles met the striking red of the Canal Street car. Tall office buildings and hotels edged the wide busy street, lined with date palms on either side and down the center around the streetcar track. Tourists and locals alike thronged the ample sidewalks, and there seemed to be a tacky tourist-targeting souvenier shop every hundred yards. Somewhere a brass band played, signaling their proximity to the historic French Quarter. Aria motioned for Flinne to exit and they stepped back into the oppressive heat.

"Phew, that's hot. Okay, one quick jaunt around the Quarter and then we can head home." She grinned at him and took his arm gingerly. "Are you ready?"
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back