sooooo backdated
WHO: Evan Fox (THE CAT) and Cygna Jones (THE SWAN SISTER)
WHAT: She's freaking out about Rick's disappearance -- and like a good friend, Evan shows up to smooth things over.
WHEN: ... Like two months ago, after this post. What? Me and Puja are slowtastic.
WHERE: Cyg and Vel's apartment in Morningside Heights.
Evan didn't waste time scribbling a response to Cygna's post. He had debated whether to even look into her entry when he saw it that morning, since he didn't really know this Rick guy. He had figured that if Cygna was interested in whoever he was, things could have gotten awkward. But curiosity had won out in the end, and Evan had investigated. What was supposed to be a quiet morning in turned into a trek to Harlem, as seeing what looked like blood splattered across the page and Cygna's scream in response got Evan's legs moving. He was at Cygna and Velvet's door before he even realized where he was going.
He hesitated at the door for the briefest of moments. What if she doesn't want to see me? It was a question he'd asked himself several times over the last three years, but for once, he could genuinely push it away and concentrate on what was important. He knew Cygna, and he knew that she needed someone right now.
And if she didn't want to see him, she could just tell him to leave.
Evan knocked three times on the door before trying the handle. It gave way. "Cygna? It's Evan. Are you in here?"
She was indeed in the apartment. With Velvet out for the day, and Cygna's scheduled show at the Hirschfield not starting until that evening, the woman had turned towards cleaning. Ferociously. She paced their shared rooms picking up items and moving them to other locations -- often pointlessly -- and rearranging the shelves again and again and again. Later on in the day, Velvet would come home to alphabetised books and DVDs, but this wasn't a surprising turn of events; Cygna had oodles of nervous energy, and absolutely nowhere to put it. There was no news, and no phone calls, and nothing to do about the situation.
Not to mention, she had barely slept. Her night had consisted of one hour of sleep, three hours of tossing and turning, and a lot of staring blankly at the bloodsplatter in her journal.
"Evan?"
"Hey." He pushed the door open and walked into the apartment. She was on her feet, which was a good sign, but she was doing that nervous-Cygna thing he had grown so acquainted with. But that was a long time ago, and they were both different people now. Right? Evan swallowed the pinprick of nostalgia and tried to focus on the matter at hand. "Just thought I'd drop by to say hello." They both knew that wasn't true, but he doubted she was going to correct him.
Coming home to Cygna freaking out over something was something Evan had learned to handle over time. He knew quite well that the best way to deal with her in this situation was to stay out of her way and simply talk to her until she could calm down. Distract her. Make her laugh. Evan made his way over to one of the dining room chairs and sat himself down. He had been here plenty of times before - there wasn't any point in acting formal. "I can't believe I'm up this early, today." He yawned (a real one, surprisingly enough) for good measure. "I take it Vel's out and about for her Librarian duties?" All the years in America had rid Evan of everything but the South African accent. There wasn't a trace of foreign vocabulary or jargon in his speech.
He was answered with a tired smile, all made out of prim little lines. Cygna hovered by the tables for a moment, hands winding themselves into the fabric of her skirt as she wondered what to do -- before she stepped over to the chairs and gave him an awkward half-hug, her standing and him sitting. Even if she'd spent a considerable part of the night being a crumpled little mess on Velvet's bed, she still remembered niceties. And she knew better than to look surprised that he'd shown up. He was a familiar human presence, plain and simple, which is what Cygna desperately needed right now.
"Yes, she, um, she went over to the Pen earlier. Pentamerone. Librarian duties."
In contrast to the hyper-organised physical motions she was going through, Cygna's voice was more scattered than ever. And on her second pace through the room since hugging him, she paused by the kitchen cupboards.
"Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? A sandwich?"
"Sure. I haven't had any breakfast." He wasn't exactly starving, but since the apartment looked almost spotless, he figured she could use something else to do. He frowned at her scattered voice. She was going to need to be all here in order to calm down. "Yeah, love. I know what the Pen is. I do live there, eh?" His voice was teasing, just trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. His musical tone (because to the average American, he sounded about as musical as a Minnesotan) rang through the apartment, which made him slightly uncomfortable. Evan was used to this place being filled with jokes, laughter, and the generally vibrant presence of Cygna and Velvet; it was strange being the only one filling the space.
He draped an arm over the top of the chair and craned his neck to get a better view of the kitchen. "What about you, then? Have you been keeping busy?"
She froze like a deer in the headlights, taking a moment trying to absorb that question. She thought he meant overnight. Of course she'd been keeping busy overnight! Wasn't the stricken apartment and her dishevelled appearance an obvious enough sign of that?
But comprehension dawned, and then Cygna melted back into movement, ducking in and out of cupboards and the refrigerator. Right. Keeping busy in general. "Things are busy as ever at the Al Hirschfield," she began, talking over her shoulder, "so I'm there a few nights out of every week, and otherwise, taking stuff home to work on them." She would have motioned towards a chaotic pile of costumes with stitches to tighten and props whose paint needed retouching ... but that pile had been one of the first things to go during the great cleaning apocalypse.
"And I've been visiting the Pen, too."
Then she became tight-lipped; she would not mention the phrase 'Christmas Condom Elves' in front of Evan. But the man's mission was working: Cygna was talking about anything but what was truly on her mind. Which was good, all things considered.
Evan nodded along as she described her life at the theater. "Do things ever calm down out there?" He laughed, "I don't know how you do it, Cyg. I would have booked it a long time ago." Both of them knew Evan's inability to stick to one profession for more than a few weeks at a time, and by this point they had just come to accept it as one of the facts of life. Or at least he hoped she had. "So is the show worth watching? I haven't been to the theater in a really long time."
There was something about Cygna's face when she mentioned the Pentamerone that made Evan's lip quirk. He saw an opening, and even in her present state of fervor couldn't let it slide. "The Pen, eh? Why do I get the feeling you've been up to some mischief you don't want to tell me about?" His face broke into an all-out grin. "Come on, Cyg. You know I'd never judge you. In fact, I'd probably actually be proud of you!"
"Because it's fun, and exciting, and stimulating, and because slogging through weeks of the same show is completely worth it for the hijinks that go on backstage, and especially for the silliness that goes on during the last show," Cygna answered, practically all in one breath. Though her face wasn't exactly aglow with excitement -- there was still something tired in her look, a slight downwards drag to the corners of her lips -- she was smiling despite that.
That smile, however, rapidly turned into a furious blush once Evan plucked up the subject of the Pentamerone.
"Oh, don't even ask," she mumbled, her words accompanied with the clatter of a plate being forcefully deposited in front of Evan. Her friend. Her ex. Ex-something-important. Whatever he was. There was a substantial sandwich on the plate: ham and turkey, mayo, some lettuce, slices of cucumber. Cygna crumpled into the seat immediately afterwards, her arm folded in front of her, chin in hand. She gave him a very, very familiar appraising look. Go on. Eat.
That was one thing about spending years raising a horde of brothers: you grew up liking to provide for others.
"Even I miss those old hijinks somedays." It was true. Evan had spent enough time with Cygna to eventually get involved with the tomfoolery of the cast backstage, even if it had been at very limited, and collegiate level only. It had been during the whole 'try theater as a career' part of his life.
Other men in Evan's position might have felt bad for making Cygna 'take care' of them when she was in such a precarious state herself, but Evan knew that it was doing her more good than it was him. Easy banter and making sandwiches took the focus away from the things that were really bothering her, and Evan was more than willing to provide her with it until she needed it.
It wasn't as though he felt he owed it to her. No, it was something else entirely. Three years might have passed since she had a title in his life, but she hadn't stopped being important to him; not by a long shot. And Evan Fox, the king of putting himself before others, could put the needs of the people he loved (platonically of course... right?) before his own.
So that was how Evan spent the next several hours of his morning: chatting with Cygna about absolutely everything and nothing, getting in her way when she cleaned, acting like a complete ham until she smacked him, and finding other ways to make her laugh. Velvet ended up coming home eventually, and the three hung out like old friends, until he decided Cygna was safe enough in Velvet's hands for him to finally go home.
Against all of her expectations, it had actually become a good day. Eventually. Cygna was more grateful for the distraction than she could properly express; and she tried, when Evan was on the doorstep and she was bidding him goodbye. But she faltered on the words somewhere between the last hug and closing quietly the door after him, because saying thank you drew attention to the fact that Evan had actively done something to help her -- instead of pretending this was just a regular day, just another afternoon with friends, with no looming tragedy and blood-stained pages whatsoever.
She was drained and tired, but she could still remember how it felt to have laughter choking her up until she became a helpless pile of giggles on the couch between Evan and Velvet. And Cygna felt better, for what it was worth.
WHAT: She's freaking out about Rick's disappearance -- and like a good friend, Evan shows up to smooth things over.
WHEN: ... Like two months ago, after this post. What? Me and Puja are slowtastic.
WHERE: Cyg and Vel's apartment in Morningside Heights.
Evan didn't waste time scribbling a response to Cygna's post. He had debated whether to even look into her entry when he saw it that morning, since he didn't really know this Rick guy. He had figured that if Cygna was interested in whoever he was, things could have gotten awkward. But curiosity had won out in the end, and Evan had investigated. What was supposed to be a quiet morning in turned into a trek to Harlem, as seeing what looked like blood splattered across the page and Cygna's scream in response got Evan's legs moving. He was at Cygna and Velvet's door before he even realized where he was going.
He hesitated at the door for the briefest of moments. What if she doesn't want to see me? It was a question he'd asked himself several times over the last three years, but for once, he could genuinely push it away and concentrate on what was important. He knew Cygna, and he knew that she needed someone right now.
And if she didn't want to see him, she could just tell him to leave.
Evan knocked three times on the door before trying the handle. It gave way. "Cygna? It's Evan. Are you in here?"
She was indeed in the apartment. With Velvet out for the day, and Cygna's scheduled show at the Hirschfield not starting until that evening, the woman had turned towards cleaning. Ferociously. She paced their shared rooms picking up items and moving them to other locations -- often pointlessly -- and rearranging the shelves again and again and again. Later on in the day, Velvet would come home to alphabetised books and DVDs, but this wasn't a surprising turn of events; Cygna had oodles of nervous energy, and absolutely nowhere to put it. There was no news, and no phone calls, and nothing to do about the situation.
Not to mention, she had barely slept. Her night had consisted of one hour of sleep, three hours of tossing and turning, and a lot of staring blankly at the bloodsplatter in her journal.
"Evan?"
"Hey." He pushed the door open and walked into the apartment. She was on her feet, which was a good sign, but she was doing that nervous-Cygna thing he had grown so acquainted with. But that was a long time ago, and they were both different people now. Right? Evan swallowed the pinprick of nostalgia and tried to focus on the matter at hand. "Just thought I'd drop by to say hello." They both knew that wasn't true, but he doubted she was going to correct him.
Coming home to Cygna freaking out over something was something Evan had learned to handle over time. He knew quite well that the best way to deal with her in this situation was to stay out of her way and simply talk to her until she could calm down. Distract her. Make her laugh. Evan made his way over to one of the dining room chairs and sat himself down. He had been here plenty of times before - there wasn't any point in acting formal. "I can't believe I'm up this early, today." He yawned (a real one, surprisingly enough) for good measure. "I take it Vel's out and about for her Librarian duties?" All the years in America had rid Evan of everything but the South African accent. There wasn't a trace of foreign vocabulary or jargon in his speech.
He was answered with a tired smile, all made out of prim little lines. Cygna hovered by the tables for a moment, hands winding themselves into the fabric of her skirt as she wondered what to do -- before she stepped over to the chairs and gave him an awkward half-hug, her standing and him sitting. Even if she'd spent a considerable part of the night being a crumpled little mess on Velvet's bed, she still remembered niceties. And she knew better than to look surprised that he'd shown up. He was a familiar human presence, plain and simple, which is what Cygna desperately needed right now.
"Yes, she, um, she went over to the Pen earlier. Pentamerone. Librarian duties."
In contrast to the hyper-organised physical motions she was going through, Cygna's voice was more scattered than ever. And on her second pace through the room since hugging him, she paused by the kitchen cupboards.
"Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? A sandwich?"
"Sure. I haven't had any breakfast." He wasn't exactly starving, but since the apartment looked almost spotless, he figured she could use something else to do. He frowned at her scattered voice. She was going to need to be all here in order to calm down. "Yeah, love. I know what the Pen is. I do live there, eh?" His voice was teasing, just trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. His musical tone (because to the average American, he sounded about as musical as a Minnesotan) rang through the apartment, which made him slightly uncomfortable. Evan was used to this place being filled with jokes, laughter, and the generally vibrant presence of Cygna and Velvet; it was strange being the only one filling the space.
He draped an arm over the top of the chair and craned his neck to get a better view of the kitchen. "What about you, then? Have you been keeping busy?"
She froze like a deer in the headlights, taking a moment trying to absorb that question. She thought he meant overnight. Of course she'd been keeping busy overnight! Wasn't the stricken apartment and her dishevelled appearance an obvious enough sign of that?
But comprehension dawned, and then Cygna melted back into movement, ducking in and out of cupboards and the refrigerator. Right. Keeping busy in general. "Things are busy as ever at the Al Hirschfield," she began, talking over her shoulder, "so I'm there a few nights out of every week, and otherwise, taking stuff home to work on them." She would have motioned towards a chaotic pile of costumes with stitches to tighten and props whose paint needed retouching ... but that pile had been one of the first things to go during the great cleaning apocalypse.
"And I've been visiting the Pen, too."
Then she became tight-lipped; she would not mention the phrase 'Christmas Condom Elves' in front of Evan. But the man's mission was working: Cygna was talking about anything but what was truly on her mind. Which was good, all things considered.
Evan nodded along as she described her life at the theater. "Do things ever calm down out there?" He laughed, "I don't know how you do it, Cyg. I would have booked it a long time ago." Both of them knew Evan's inability to stick to one profession for more than a few weeks at a time, and by this point they had just come to accept it as one of the facts of life. Or at least he hoped she had. "So is the show worth watching? I haven't been to the theater in a really long time."
There was something about Cygna's face when she mentioned the Pentamerone that made Evan's lip quirk. He saw an opening, and even in her present state of fervor couldn't let it slide. "The Pen, eh? Why do I get the feeling you've been up to some mischief you don't want to tell me about?" His face broke into an all-out grin. "Come on, Cyg. You know I'd never judge you. In fact, I'd probably actually be proud of you!"
"Because it's fun, and exciting, and stimulating, and because slogging through weeks of the same show is completely worth it for the hijinks that go on backstage, and especially for the silliness that goes on during the last show," Cygna answered, practically all in one breath. Though her face wasn't exactly aglow with excitement -- there was still something tired in her look, a slight downwards drag to the corners of her lips -- she was smiling despite that.
That smile, however, rapidly turned into a furious blush once Evan plucked up the subject of the Pentamerone.
"Oh, don't even ask," she mumbled, her words accompanied with the clatter of a plate being forcefully deposited in front of Evan. Her friend. Her ex. Ex-something-important. Whatever he was. There was a substantial sandwich on the plate: ham and turkey, mayo, some lettuce, slices of cucumber. Cygna crumpled into the seat immediately afterwards, her arm folded in front of her, chin in hand. She gave him a very, very familiar appraising look. Go on. Eat.
That was one thing about spending years raising a horde of brothers: you grew up liking to provide for others.
"Even I miss those old hijinks somedays." It was true. Evan had spent enough time with Cygna to eventually get involved with the tomfoolery of the cast backstage, even if it had been at very limited, and collegiate level only. It had been during the whole 'try theater as a career' part of his life.
Other men in Evan's position might have felt bad for making Cygna 'take care' of them when she was in such a precarious state herself, but Evan knew that it was doing her more good than it was him. Easy banter and making sandwiches took the focus away from the things that were really bothering her, and Evan was more than willing to provide her with it until she needed it.
It wasn't as though he felt he owed it to her. No, it was something else entirely. Three years might have passed since she had a title in his life, but she hadn't stopped being important to him; not by a long shot. And Evan Fox, the king of putting himself before others, could put the needs of the people he loved (platonically of course... right?) before his own.
So that was how Evan spent the next several hours of his morning: chatting with Cygna about absolutely everything and nothing, getting in her way when she cleaned, acting like a complete ham until she smacked him, and finding other ways to make her laugh. Velvet ended up coming home eventually, and the three hung out like old friends, until he decided Cygna was safe enough in Velvet's hands for him to finally go home.
Against all of her expectations, it had actually become a good day. Eventually. Cygna was more grateful for the distraction than she could properly express; and she tried, when Evan was on the doorstep and she was bidding him goodbye. But she faltered on the words somewhere between the last hug and closing quietly the door after him, because saying thank you drew attention to the fact that Evan had actively done something to help her -- instead of pretending this was just a regular day, just another afternoon with friends, with no looming tragedy and blood-stained pages whatsoever.
She was drained and tired, but she could still remember how it felt to have laughter choking her up until she became a helpless pile of giggles on the couch between Evan and Velvet. And Cygna felt better, for what it was worth.