Where the Streets Have No Name

[Star]

Continued from Karaoke Night!...

Sometimes, a motorcycle was the right thing. The rush of air, roar of the motor, the visceral connection to the road. But you couldn't talk, so sometimes a car was the thing. Air conditioning, quiet enough for conversation, and a radio.

Sometimes, walking was the thing. Slower. Options. Meandering.

For a moment, he toyed with that idea. Transportation. Thoughts. The parallel, both in how a destination was reached and that both were movements -- one through Mind and one through Space.

Sometimes, when you meander to clear your mind? All roads lead to Rome.

"I was surprised you came out. Not as surprised as seeing you get up and rock Joan Jett," he laughed softly, glancing over as they walked.

"It just didn't seem like your kind of thing... but I'm glad you did. Not the Jett -- the coming out."

He paused and watched the pavement slide past his shoes. Ever worry about something? Something that might not be a thing, but maybe it is a thing? But if it isn't, and it's treated like it is, then suddenly the fact that it was considered a thing is suddenly a thing?

All the things.

"I'm sorry if I made it weird."

[Avis]

Her shoes lightly scuffed the pavement as they walked along, her hands stuffed into her pockets with her shoulders slightly hunched forward. A stray beer can that was lingering in her path was sent skittering away after Star spoke, and kept walking without a word. Not for several more footfalls.

"You didn't make it weird," she replied quietly, the quiet scraping of her tennis shoes whispering along underneath her words. "Not until you brought up Joan Jett, anyways. That's what Aurum sang." There wasn't any petulance in her voice. More an air of gentle mocking. That, and something else.

"And just how surprised were you? It was Asp that invited me. Didn't she tell you?" Her eyes sought out his in the Sacramento gloom, appearing more blank than accusatory.

[Star]

Pop Quiz. How do you figure out if something is a thing by worrying about it being a thing? Answer. Make it a thing by adding a stupid thing. Epiphany? Wondering too much if something is a thing is probably going to make it a thing. It's not weird until you talk about it, yo.

And then sprinkle some stupid on it. Stupid sprinkles on a thing pastry filled with weird. Eat. It. Up.

A sneaker scuffed on pavement as he almost stopped at her words, then double stepped to catch back up. How had that even happened?

"Uh. No? I mean, yes, she told me, but she didn't say you were, for sure. She said she wasn't sure."

He looked down, and shook his head.

"I don't even know how I messed that up. Because I know what you sang. I even wondered if you knew what it meant. Like, what the song was about. Because..."

Somewhere, khakis were laughing.

A hand reached out, tentatively. A hand that could juggle, spin coins, and flip cards with absolute surety fluttered, and the fingers touched her sleeve like testing something to see if it were scorching hot.

"Okay. Hey. I'm sorry? For weird. I'm getting this wrong." Because confusing. "Can I, like, I don't know. Have a do-over? I'm glad you came out. Like, really. Do you, ummm. Do you have plans? For tonight? Do you want to go somewhere, do something?"

Words tumbled out like a verbal version of Go Fish, searching for the proper card. Toby Esterhase would know what to say, but he wasn't Toby Esterhase. He didn't want to be. Not with her. The deal's the deal. And it seemed like every time they'd seen one another lately, a Hierarch was getting deposed, or... No, that wasn't it. Really? It was that it hadn't been just them. Because dancing.

"...but I didn't bring the hat."

A speculative smile crept out. Yes, a date. Or a dare. Maybe the same. Did it matter? Not really. Maybe knowing a thing was an illusion. And confusion was truth.

[Avis]

Avis pulled to a stop as his fingers brushed against the cloth of her sleeve and turned to face him. Her hands stayed in her pockets, but her spine was straighter, her posture restored. Her gaze was still on his, attempting to bore through his eyes and into what lay beyond. Eventually, she found whatever it was that she was looking for. That, or gave up.

"Where do you wanna go? I thought you said you had to get up in the morning." It wasn't entirely another stalling tactic. She basically knew what her answer would be, but it also depended on his. Star was still largely an unknown, his motivations shrouded in unfamiliarity. It didn't help that he tended towards the spontaneous. Not that she didn't like that, but it made it difficult when it came to understanding him. Not that she exactly made that easy. There were probably questions that she should be asking, or things that she could do to better figure it out, but this, whatever it was, was also unknown territory. More than just because it was her first time experiencing it. Other people grew up with displays of it everywhere, representations in film, in books, and actual examples of it all around them on the street or in cafes, restaurants, or schools. And while she'd seen some of that, it was periphery. Just a drop compared to the ocean most people were inundated in.

"And I don't really know what the song means," she said, interrupting him just as he was about to reply to her first question. "I mean, it's pretty trippy, talking about porpoises and stuff, but I think it basically talks about searching for where your supposed to be. Not, like, just your home, but also where your supposed to be in relation to other people. So, um, relationships as well as home." It was too relevant not to talk about. That's why she didn't stop the words when they sprung to her lips.

[Star]

When she stopped, he stopped, a half step ahead to react, then turned. He faced her evenly, meeting the scrutiny of her pale green eyes without flinching. Why would he? An eyebrow tic'ed slightly in curiosity, but smoothed rather than completing a furrowing of the brow. Her? He didn't even try. Maybe he'd given up. Or maybe he'd become comfortable with not knowing.

His mouth had opened to answer, but he closed it as a little smile crept out when she interrupted. Smiling with your mouth open? It's like sneezing with your eyes open. Not funny ha-ha, just funny. Because confusion.

"Oh. Yeah, it is kind of trippy... but... it's about, like, their record label. Telling lies about them, to sell records." He shrugged. "I kind of like yours, though."

Was that a thing? For her? He hadn't revisited what he'd seen, during her Duel. Mostly, because it was disturbing. The rest, because. The new puzzle pieces from the game were slid off into the darkness with the abandoned puzzle. The obvious question her words raised, he ignored. The ice cube of uncertainty, cold and slippery, would eventually melt.

"It seemed like things were winding down..." Leaving first? Might be A Thing. A lot better than leaving last. That's just getting left, yo. And other reasons.

"...but, no, I'm good. It's okay. I was, uh, thinking," he paused. Truth? There was no Plan. Nothing exciting, spectacular, or intricate. Just an opportunity. "The Bridge? I was thinking, before, about showing you something." The smile crept back out, remembering the sound of laughter he hadn't wanted to interrupt. He glanced around, and pointed to his eyes with two fingers. "It'd be a good place. For that. Have you ever, has anyone ever, you know?"

Not that.

"So you can See what I See."

Goggles. Maybe? She'd show him what she Saw.

[Avis]

"Oh. Uh. Yeh," Avis said after a second, clearly surprised. "I was assuming you were saving that for the next time we caught the 3:10, but I guess that might be a bit much all at once, right? And, uh, nah, the only time someone showed me their, ya know, perspective, it was when I was learning about Prime numbers."

Ok, it was a lame use of code, but it wasn't like they were surrounded by a huge ass crowd, either. If someone who knew was listening, what she said would be irrelevant, anyways. But, goddammit, why was she worried about that now? It was so dumb. Why wasn't she just embracing the moment? The one she'd been thinking about sporadically every since they shared a meal in a piece of history that the land had forgotten.

She lingered for several moments, clearly not ready to move on yet. Her eyes roved over his face again, but there was a different intensity there, one that didn't probe or attempt to pierce deeper. Almost as if she was trying to memorize the line of his jaw, or the way the streetlights hovered on his lashes, and the bit of hair ghosting on his chin and around his lips. Oddly enough, her gaze flitted away from his eyes while she mapped his face, yet then seemed drawn back to them.

Then, abruptly, she turned and started walking towards the bridge, starting slowly she he wouldn't have to catch up.

[Star]

"Oh, yeah, it can get totally crazy," he agreed.

Physics was ridiculous, yo. Waves and splashes, everywhere. Sound. Wind. Light. His mouth opened to add to his words, but paused. What? What was she looking at him like that for?

Leaves of stray thoughts fell, skipping and dancing in the wind of his consciousness.

Was she disappointed -- that the weren't doing another train? Should he ask if she wanted to do that, instead? Did he have something on his face --like a spilled drink dried into some sticky strange color? Did she want a Cone of Silence? Was she trying to figure out how to say something he wouldn't want to hear? Did she know she still had the card? Was right now when...

He let the thoughts get batted and scattered, his head unconsciously tilting slowly and slightly sideways in curiosity. The sudden moment when it was over caught his eyes off guard -- looking at her, then suddenly wrenched to the side the the turn and movement. For a blink, he was disoriented, his thoughts and eyes focal point vanished. Feet moved on autopilot, walking alongside. He wasn't sure what that had just been, but the edge of his mouth twitched in a near smile.

"I can't, yet. Show you that? But I will. I'm just pretty awful at Physics." Honestly? He was pretty relieved Asp had claimed it.

His eyes moved forward and out, bookmarking the bridge as he walked. The rote movement of simply placing one foot in front of the other gave him time to put the wheels back in gear. It also gave him time to just enjoy the moments. Silence? It's not a crime. Sometimes, enjoy the moments of companionship and common destination. Looking over to take peeks? That's not a crime, either.

"I thought about this because of you bringing up, ummm, movies." Right. He never had put up that Cone of Silence. Knowing his luck, if he tried now he'd end up tripping. "Which was super cool, by the way. I've probably heard the gemstones thing, like, a hundred times. Never that."

Movies. Arcana. Pieces. Puzzles.

"Also? There, ah, never really seems like a good time to ask, or just say it, but, I am interested -- in the rest of your story."

Asking if you can ask or say something is silly.

Was there a good time? Tell Me About Your Trauma isn't exactly a Hallmark Moment. He'd thought she was a badass before he'd seen the Sword. A voice inside protested that the words were a mistake -- that he could spin them, change them, take them back. That it wasn't fun, or a good time, or just being nosy, but he pushed past it. He had Really Big puzzle pieces. Really? He just didn't know the ending.

"Not... curiosity. Just... interest." The original macabre fascination had been shattered and slashed away. "Because it's, ummm. Your story? Part of who you are. And maybe you don't want to tell me now-now, that's okay. I just wanted you to know."

Maybe she wouldn't, and maybe she would. But he'd wanted it said, because it was true. A hand reached out to brush the lower half of one of her sleeves for emphasis, lingering for just a moment to see if a pale hand would relinquish the shelter and safety of a pocket.

[Avis]

"I already said part of it. Tonight. Kinda, anyways," she replied, voice barely above a mumble as they walked. Her throat felt tight and phlegm-y after she spoke, and a convulsive swallow did nothing to clear it away. Eyes that were now so fixed on the equally dull pavement blinked reflexively in a staccato burst and then shifted up, catching one of Star's stolen looks before skittering away again like timid animals.

It bothered her. Not his request, or his interest, but her reaction to it. She hated being meek. Hated that strange, electric horror that so often seemed to rule her even after her awakening. Hunger for experience, though no one at the bar would have believed it, was powerful in her. Perhaps it was that way in every Awakened soul, but hers was different in that the compulsion to encounter and learn was opposed by an equally powerful fear. It was why she so often stayed between four walls and a roof even when she dreamed of the sun. Night usually helped, as darkness shrouded all in its veil, and she was used to hiding behind it, but it was never the same as experiencing the freedom of the open.

That was a kernel of why she'd come to California, actually. The desert had appealed to. A desolate space where the sun would pour down and expose all. Cleanse all. This was, of course, before she'd learned that Sacramento, apparently, had the most trees per-capita of any city in the US. Not that it really mattered. Her project of self improvement was halting, at best, and through no fault of the trees. Though, in a way, she was improving in one area: the landscape of relationships. That required a surrender to openness and exposure, too. Perhaps, if she closed the distance to her goal in that landscape she'd find the other easier to traverse. It seemed possible. In many ways, the social surrender was the hardest.

"I think," she began again, haltingly, "that I should probably tell you. I've, uh, already starting telling it. A bit to you, a bit to Asp. There's no reason not to finish it." She wasn't meeting his eyes, but her own had moved off of the ground and onto the bridge on the shadowed horizon. "Once we get over the water, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. But, it would help me if you asked questions as we go. To, ya know, point me in the right direction. I'm not a writer, so trying to give a verbal autobiography wouldn't work out too well. But interviews are different, ya know." It was a familiar procedure for her, after all.

Hopefully, this wouldn't turn out to be as much of a leap of faith as it felt like. And, even if it wasn't, even if she fell, it wouldn't matter. Conflict was the path to perfection.

[Star]

His hand fell away, drifting into it's own pocket; it's partner, matching it. It was an act of solidarity, mirroring her, rather than one of petulance, and his his own eyes cast outward. For a moment, they moved up, catching the sliver of moon.

"I figured -- about tonight. I didn't think you were talking about a dime bag."

He mulled her words like wine, steeping away the initial tang of a protest in the warmth of thought and clarity. The protest? He didn't want to ask. But she'd answered that, and it was just semantics, again. Like dancing. These steps were new for him, too. Waiting had never bothered him.

"I knew this guy, when I was a kid. Matt. His parents were super religious and packed him off to an all boys parochial school. And it was like, so strange. As the years went by, there was a lot of stuff he just didn't know, or know how to do."

Truth? It had driven him a little crazy. At first it was kind of funny, and then it was kind of sad. Matt hadn't know how to talk to girls, at all. Not like, talk talk, even regular talk -- he treated them like they still had cooties. He didn't offer that up, though, because it sounded like pity. Or an indictment. And he wasn't going to pity or mock this girl who still bought shiny blue shoes because there probably weren't any sparkly green ones. He adored her fearlessness.

The slow, even words spanned the moments as their footsteps did the distance. It could have been he was explaining it to himself, as much to her. This wasn't The Plan. This? It chafed at his thoughts the way his clothing did his skin with her bare spells. The storm of an epiphany was building at the horizon of his consciousness.

"But we were always still friends, I think, because we thought the same things were funny."

You have to see things the same way, to share a laugh. If he was being vague, or meandering, it wasn't deliberate obfuscation -- more of an explanation, or thinking out loud. And maybe that's what it was. What he'd tried to tell a stranger in a laundromat, and the why of it becoming more clear.

"And it's funny, too, this," he continued. A hand darted from a pocket, spinning sideways to vaguely indicate the space between them. "Because... I think... I get the feeling we ended up at the same place. Seeing... the same things. But getting there backwards, or maybe starting from different sides."

Her, the proverbial bull in the china shop of lies, without the indoctrination into the status quo of niceties and the social contract of acceptable lies and half-truths. Or maybe a child, bludgeoning raw truths into their surroundings -- if not with words, then action.

A huff of air blew out of his nose in amusement, and he shook his head. Maybe she didn't care why. The thought had crossed his mind, more than once, that this might just be something new and different. Or practice.

Fear is the Mind Killer, yo.

"Why... did you think you should tell me? About talking to Aspen?"

[Avis]

She pondered where to begin, how to explain about the dime (and definitely not the dime bag) that she'd basically done, while they meandered their way to the bridge. He hadn't phrased it like a question, but since he'd elaborated on it, that was probably what he wanted to hear about first. The trouble was, that part of her story needed context. It had a profound formative effect on her, definitely, but it wasn't the most important thing. Yes, it was why she knew certain things, and was so oblivious to others, but wasn't what had shaped her, wasn't what had prepared her for her Awakening, or what she'd told Asp. But, the question was, was it what allowed her to see things in the same way that he did? She wasn't convinced that she did see things like he did, but there were definitely some commonalities between them. Their penchant for slight of hand and locks. Their relationship to lies and illusions. Their appreciation for using bits of whatever to create and utilize, and for the generally overlooked and forgotten. Ok, sure, there were definitely some things they looked at in a similar light. And, likewise, she knew they had definitely gotten there from different side.

By the time they reached the bridge, and were walking across it, towards the midpoint where they could stand and look down at the dark river below, she'd thought of a way to begin. His question startled her, though. How had he picked up on the twinge of guilt that she felt? She'd tried to phrase it in a different light, informative but without meaning. Apparently she'd failed. Star, like his name suggested, was bright. It wasn't the first deception of hers that he'd seen through.

"Um. I don't know. I just did? Maybe there wasn't a reason," she tried, stopping on the bridge to look at him for the first time in minutes, but the words sounded false, even to her ears. "Ok, wait. Um, it's cause I felt like I should. Like, we're in a cabal. We're supposed to be connected, and truthful, and bonded, ya know? Telling one person and not the others isn't exactly honest. And it shows favoritism and stuff. I mean, I should probably be telling all of you this stuff, altogether, but I don't know. That seems awkward. Like, not emotionally, but formally. Personal stuff, it shouldn't be handled like business. Gathering you all together and being like 'here's my baggage, have fun,' doesn't seem like it would be authentic, or very effective. This is the kinda thing that has to be shared on a personnel level. Maybe not one on one, necessarily, but its something that I feel like has to be asked for. Kinda like you said, this stuff should only be done when someone shows interest. 'Cause, ya know, it's history. It's knowledge about you. It's, ya know, intimate."

She looked away, and started walking again, slowly. Partly to hide a light blush, partly because she wanted to move again, and to look at the city lights reflected on the black glass of the river. The word intimate had felt a bit inappropriate when it came out of her mouth, but she knew it was still the right word. Intimacy was about far more than just sex. It was about connection. Sex allowed for a brief, physical one, sure, but emotional connection, intellectual connection, that was far more lasting, far more potent. That was true intimacy. Sex was just a way to express that, not create it. And, it was kind of annoying that the idea of it had popped up. Right now, it wasn't relevant. Not at all. There were other things to think about. Things to talk about.

"Uh, but yeah. I'll tell the others eventually, but only when its the proper time. Right now, Zoey and I aren't on great terms, and Asp, well, I don't know. We've connected, a bit, but there's still some stuff I have to work through. So don't worry about it, and for now, ask your questions. I'm assuming the first one is about what I meant about the dime? About doing time?"