paixaorpg | The Closest of Strangers [completed]

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The Closest of Strangers [completed]

Character(s): Vyers and Gwen
Content: Mama and Vyers clean up the house... and try to figure out how all these people are even going to begin sleeping here. ~~And we get a small dose of adorable Vyers/Mama awkwardness~~
Setting: Vyers' ~~Zoo and Orphanage~~ place.
Time: Week 26, afternoon. ~~Before things can go horribly, horribly wrong.~~ Nope, Spish and I are going to fuck things up here 8Db God we're evil.
Warnings: Awkwardness, possibility for cuteness, ~~possible~~ angst

It still took quite a bit of getting used to, but he supposed that was to be expected, considering that she had only been there for a couple of days. Maybe it was the distance between them.

Mm, no, it was definitely the distance between them.

Vyers never once thought that she wouldn't know him. The more he thought about it now the more he realized he should have known it was a possibility, but it was one of those possibilities he had never, ever wanted to consider. He frowned to himself, once again pushing away the idea of telling her who he was. Had he not already decided to allow her this moment of happiness? Everything that she would witness was at least partially his fault. He had not done enough then. He had not been there, Laharl had said as much. Then why did he doubt this decision so?

Maybe later. Maybe.

Ah, but was he running again? Did it count as running if it wasn't for his sake? It wasn't as though this situation was making him happier. But...

Vyers' brow furrowed and it took him awhile to realize that he had been dusting the same spot for a good five minutes. When had that happened?

Immediately, he moved to another table, trying to look as though he had meant to do this the entire time. After awhile, his gaze began to stray toward Gwen, more out of curiosity--to see what she was doing--than anything else.

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Vyers counts off the amount of beds in the condo in his head, as well as the couches and how many people are living there. Three, two, and nine respectively. Simba, Timon, and Pumbaa likely wouldn't need any, no matter how much Timon was likely to protest, Gwen was taking his bed, and everyone else was currently up in the air until they figured out where everyone was supposed to go. That... really didn't help very much, did it? Well... Eight seemed like a nice number, and if it turned out that they had more than they needed, it was no trouble. Considering how two sets of sheets on Vyers' bed had already been ruined thanks to a certain meerkat, it was likely for the best.

"Eight should be enough, I think," he said aloud, finishing up the last button and coming to a stop outside of one of the buildings. "Here we are."

Eight? She hopes that they can afford it... but he wouldn't have brought it up if he couldn't, right? And maybe there were bundles of some... that... could be possible.

Once he announces their arrival she slips in, hands folded behind her back as she peers around different sets of furniture and bedding, trying to find what they were looking for, but unable to help get a little distracted. "Any particular color you're looking for? Style?"

"Silk," he says with a decisive nod. Nothing could match it in terms of luxury, and Vyers had always been one to pick only the best. "Perhaps in red or black? Strong colors, but also quite stylish." Purple would have been nice, too, but he wasn't sure how his enjoyment of such a royal color would come off.

She does remember sleeping in his bed, covered in black silken sheets, but... Gwen cannot help but stare at him blankly for a good few moments. Wasn't that... going to be a bit much? She could understand the silk for his bed - it was his place, after all - but for everyone else as well?

But then she manages to sum it up, and her blank face breaks into a smile: "You must really care about everyone that lives with you."

"Eh?" Vyers is taken off guard by her statement. "But... of course," he says, fumbling over the words a little as he blinks at her, unable to quite connect the act of buying all silken sheets to caring about those with him. It is true that he does, as he says, but to him it seems completely out of the blue.

She chuckles at his reaction and clarifies herself. Keep going along with it, Vyers, she's making you out to be a bit better than you exactly are at this moment. "Buying everyone silk sheets; that says a lot. You want everyone to be comfortable, don't you?"

~~No Gwen, he just likes his silk and wants spares. Sigh.~~

Well, of course Vyers is going to go along with it. He recovers quickly, putting a hand to his chest with a wide grin. "Of course!" he says, "Why would I not? As long as there are people living in my humble abode, I am obligated to make sure they are as comfortable as they can possibly be, am I not? I would not be a proper host otherwise."

How he hoped Timon end up learning of a word of this.

It will take a lot of effort, but one day, maybe she'll manage to teach Timon the words "thank you" and mean them. Though maybe he already had, who was she to know for sure. The meerkat didn't seem too bad.

"Oh!"

Gwen had disappeared amongst the wares, but popped out once again seeming victorious with a small package in hand. "Will these do?" Yes, Vyers, in Gwen's hand was a package of sheets... royal purple sheets. Thoughtfully, she glances back at the shelving. "There are other colors, too..." But the purple reminded her more of... home.

She looks a little distant.

Vyers peers around when she disappears so suddenly, trying to catch sight of her and wondering where she went. But then she appears again with a package in hand that immediately catches Vyers' attention. He gasps a little and leans forward eagerly. "They have that color?! Yes, that! We should get it immediately!" he is quick to say.

But then he calms down and looks back over at the shelf. "Nn, but maybe we should get one or two of the other colors for variety." And he isn't entirely sure whether or not Laharl would even use the purple.

She comes back to the present, looking to him, then back at the sheets, then back at him. Blink. That was more of a reaction than she was expecting. "Mm. Variety is good. Then the others will have more of a choice of what they wanted?" Oh! Maybe they should have polled everyone? Well, too late now... Maybe they'll be able to exchange if they really care.

So, eight...

She bundles the purple in her arms, mentally warring with herself about changing Vyers' sheets or not. She's not so sure the reminder of Krichevskoy is healthy.

Still, she picks out a second purple, two blacks, two forest greens, and two crimsons, and then faces Vyers. "Do you think this works?"

He isn't so sure about the green, but knows that it is likely to be a color others might like, and so he nods. He was lucky enough that she had liked that particular shade of purple to begin with. "It should do wonderfully. Is there anything else you wanted while you were here, mademoiselle?"

Gwen's eyes sweep the store once more, but nothing catches her attention so much, and she shakes her head. "No, I think we're good." They just have to pay, catch the train again, and head back to the apartment.

Easy, right?

Absolutely.

He walked up to the counter to pay and frowned, realizing that he had brought a few less leaves than he had thought. Or the others had gone out for ice cream more than he had first imagined. Still, it was a problem easily taken care of, and he switched out a few of the leaves for an orb from his inventory.

That taken care of, he began to walk to the door, stopping about halfway there. "Oh, allow me to carry the bag for you."

She might have given him a few points for still being a gentleman.

"That's alright, I'm fine with it," she tells him, shrugging her shoulders. She grips the bag between both her arms, heading out of the store and trying to remember which way the train station was.

"Huh. It's gotten foggy out," she murmurs, frowning. Later, too, but she sort of figured it would be, what with her window shopping.

Vyers steps out of the store and frowns. "That's strange..." he whispers to himself. In all the time that he has spent in the city, he has never seen it get foggy. Was it even possible for the inside of the dome to become like this? His eyes narrow a little bit, suddenly suspicious, but standing out here doesn't seem to be doing anything at the moment but making him uneasy, and that in itself is easily blamable on the weather itself.

"We should hurry back," he decides, hiding his feelings behind a smile. "It is a good thing the train station is not too far from here."

Yes. The weather. It was exactly that.

She cradles the bag just a little closer. "Mm. I'm sure the others would be happy sleeping with fresh sheets tonight." She hesitates just a little after allowing him to get in front of her, but she can't explain why.

But she shakes it off and is quick to follow. She just wants to get back.

The longer they walk, the more uneasy he becomes, and he has to wonder if it truly is the fog that's the problem. He's quiet the entire way to the train station, busy trying to hide his worried expression and push away the odd thoughts--doubts--that seem to be popping up.

What had happened to that cheery aura from before?

"Run out of bits of the city to talk about?" she murmurs coolly, not so much to him but the air itself. The bag of bedsheets may as well have become a line of safety for her, as strange as it was. She wants him to talk, but at the same time that bothering she had got from him when they first met is slamming back into her consciousness.

There was something very wrong about him and she was growing more frustrated that she couldn't pin it down.

Her hands tighten nervously around the frame of the bag.

All demons may have love, but that doesn't mean they can't be tricksters manipulating others.

He laughs humorlessly, but is secretly glad that the silence has been broken. "I suppose I have. But I suppose I should attempt to save something for the next time we will have to make one of these trips, hm? There is still so much work to do."

Why does that proposition only worry him more? Ah, but he was being foolish, wasn't he? Of course he was. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

"You would not mind if I took one of the purple sheets to sleep with tonight, would you?" he asks, deciding that maybe the best course of action would be to try to distract himself as much as possible from the situation at hand.

His question strikes at her core more than it possibly should. "What?" She looks into the contents of the bag. But no, it was fine. She grabbed two for a reason - he was so keen on the color - it seemed only right.

And besides...

"Oh, yes. Of course I don't mind. I don't think..." she trails off for a moment, faintly picturing Krichevskoy's outfit in her mind, "...I don't think I should take either of them, anyway," she manages at last.

That makes him stop and stare at her, confused. "That's odd... You seemed so keen on the color before," he says, wondering why she had suddenly changed her mind. And what was that odd look in her eyes just now? He shuffled a little in place and looked away, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

Don't worry Vyers, she's avoiding your gaze too, so it'd be rather hard to try and meet hers. She quickens her pace a bit more, wanting to get to the train station and hoping that they don't have too long of a wait for it.

"I'm not sure I can survive the reminder," she replies before she can stop herself.

There's a sudden tearing of his heart at her words, and he freezes in place. It isn't long before she's ahead of him and he has to force his legs to start moving again. It takes even more effort to make them move quickly and all he can muster out in response to Gwen is a distant "mm."

Suddenly, he is focused on other things.

She's glad he doesn't ask her about it. She doesn't want to explain, not really, and she can't even bare to look at him. The night fog wraps around them as they finally make it to the station to wait at the platform. Separating them as it drifts, slow moving.

The discomfort grows and she crouches down while waiting for the train, her only other movement a small nod when a native informs her that the train won't be long.

She sighs, far too quiet, but she can't bring herself to talk to him.

The truth is, she doesn't need to explain, and he doesn't really want her to. A part of him thinks he should try to talk to her again to break the silence--a silence that was quickly becoming thick, nearly claustrophobic, or was that his own anxiety?--but he can't even summon up a sound.

It's a little frustrating, really, as it almost feels like someone is staring at him, waiting for him to say something, or to slip up. A clawing at the back of his mind, doubts begin to nag at him again. Was she only saying things like this in order to get this sort of reaction from him? It didn't seem like the Gwen he knew, and he had to remind himself that she didn't know.

But every time before she knew. The fake and the one who had been here in person. The first had recognized him even in this new body, and the second had already known. He stares up at the painted stars above instead of looking over at her, suddenly unsure of himself, and of the entire situation.

But he had seen her post on the journals, hadn't he? Laharl had said it himself when she had appeared the second time: hallucinations cannot make those sorts of entries. ...Can they?

Whispers in the background send a shiver up his spine. He barely notices when the train arrives and boards without a word.

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The Closest of Strangers [completed]

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