LOG oo1; Jasper and Crysta...wherever they happen to be.

[feelingthirsty]

Who: Jasper and Crysta
What: discussing Beowulf in class
When: ...you know, I'm not actually sure
Where: a university classroom in Chicago
Info: In which Crysta is nearly late to class and, Jasper is a grumpbucket, but he could be worse.

Who: Jasper, Crysta, and a very foolish mugger
What: a mugger has a very bad night
When: later that night,

Comments

[crystamaye]

He had a good point. Most men these days had no clue how to properly treat a woman. And there was the fact that Crysta was a hopeless romantic due to the many books filled with love stories that she had read.

Crysta though could tell he was having a great time teasing her. It was almost mean of him to do so if she didn't...like it, just a bit. But just for the look he got on his face. She loved the glint in his eyes and the way he smiled.

His touch was becoming increasingly distracting, the drift of his hand to her neck bringing a rise of goosebumps to her skin."You didn't?" Crysta found that shocking. Jasper didn't look at all like he could possibly have trouble with women. "Well, if you ever feel like getting around to it, I wouldn't mind being courted by someone like you." She smiled a bit, deciding if he could tease, she could too. Though he did it much better.

"Oh. Well. There isn't really much about me...what would you like to know?" She was disappointed when he finally stopped touching her, though a bit relieved because her thoughts were clouded when he did. She still clutched at his hand though, unwilling to give that up.

[feelingthirsty]

Perhaps he would have had the time if he hadn't chosen to run off to war instead. He might have settled down with a girl there, raised a family, lived a good life. Sometimes, every now and then, Jasper wished he'd done just that. But not right now.

"I was distracted by other things," he said simply, more concerned with her second statement. It made him grin a little, but also feel just slightly shy. If he was human, he would probably do just that. She had a strange ability to make him feel like a boy again, stripped of his usual confidence and secret knowledges about the people he interacted with. "And I'm afraid I probably wouldn't be much good at it, especially by today's standards. I couldn't even cook you dinner, unless you're especially fond of grits and old coffee." It didn't help that he was older than milk chocolate, or that little things like toasters and microwaves still amazed him when he took the time to stop and think.

Her disappointment wasn't lost on him, but he made no move to let go of her hand either, rather pleased that she hadn't pulled hers away was well. He hoped she couldn't see the scars on him, or see them either, for that matter. He wasn't sure how sharp her eyes were, or what kind of patterns they caught in the dappled sunlight. It had just been far too long.

"There's plenty about you," he assured her honestly. "Your family, your childhood, your hopes for the future. You said you wanted to be a writer. Do you write now?" He tried not to pry, but he was curious. What had molded Crysta into the intriguing young woman she was today?

[crystamaye]

The small grin that graced his lips had a wave of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Although she may have been teasing, the prospect of Jasper courting her, of him wanting to, had her cheeks flushing a light pink. "Even so, I'm sure you'd be amazing. And I wouldn't expect you to cook anything either." Not for one second could she imagine Jasper feeling like a boy, especially on account of anything she may have done or said. He always seemed so self assured to her, so confident. Though some of that confidence did seem to allude him when he interacted with her, but now she just figured that had to do with his lack of feeling her.

Their fingers had shifted at some point, now linked together lightly. Her eyes flickered down, studying them for a moment. She had such a small hand compared to his own, his own long, pale fingers weaved with her tinier pink ones. And yet, despite the difference, they seemed to fit together perfectly. Her eyes did catch the glint of a crescent mark on the back of his hand, but she was rather fascinated by it. She did say anything about it though, eyes flickering up to meet his once more.

"Oh. Uhm." She was slightly flustered for a moment. He didn't really want to know these boring things, did he? "Well, I'm an only child. And you know where I grew up. It was a really small town, I felt entirely too...trapped there." And yet, even growing up in a town where everyone practically knew everyone else, she went relatively unnoticed there as well. Crysta had never been a very social person back then either. "I haven't exactly had time for recreational writing lately Jas. I think the last short story I wrote was...jeez, years ago."

[feelingthirsty]

It was so interesting for Jasper to watch the emotions play across her face without feeling them himself. At least, without feeling most of them. Beauty became something of a secondary feature when your focus in humans shifted from sex to blood, but it did occur to Jasper, as he watched that blush color her face with a small smile, that he'd happened across a very pretty one indeed. It made him feel rather selfish. He only looked the way he did because his appearance was a natural trap set to lure her in, and it was working. Wouldn't she be so much happier spending her time with a boy her own age, rather than with someone old enough to be called an ancestor? And here he was, encouraging her behavior because he was lonely. He would never forgive himself if he hurt her.

"Were I alive, I wouldn't hesitate." And that was the truth. He looked down at their hands as well, at the jarring contrast of her rosy pink flesh against his lifeless fingers. He could pursue this if he wanted. He saw all of the possibilities laid out before him like a splayed hand of cards, awaiting his call. He could flirt with Crysta endlessly, until he broke her heart when it finally hit home that flirting was all it could ever be. Or he could pursue a relationship with her, which would kill her eventually, one way or another--probably painfully. The only way to prevent that would be to turn her, to rip her away from her life and her family for a few short years--a decade, maybe?--of fun before the reality set in and she turned against him. Because Jasper doubted that she was his mate. Maria hadn't been and Alice hadn't been, and Jasper doubted he really had one at all.

That left breaking it off completely, which was probably the best course of action, or allowing some kind of lifelong friendship, which Jasper felt himself leaning towards more and more out of his own desperation and selfishness.

He didn't dare squeeze her hand, knowing his own strength, but it was a simple matter for him to trace the veins running across the back of it with his thumb, to feel that living pulse beat beneath his finger. "I'd be curious to see that," he said in reference to her story, with a glance up at her. He didn't dare let himself write lest he unleash the horrors he knew could come pouring out of his pen. "What do your parents think of your profession? Do they ever come to the city to visit you?"

[crystamaye]

The thing was, Crysta hadn't met a boy her age, and even if she had he wouldn't have been one that interested and kept her as captivated as Jasper did. As much as she told herself, over and over again in her head, to not be an idiot, to not hope and want this, him, she did anyways. She just couldn't help the way she felt when their hands touched like this. God it was pathetic of her, she knew.

What he said though made her smile though despite the blush, even though she understood full well what he meant. If he were alive. He didn't want to now.

Despite the odd pain now working it's way through her chest and snaking around her heart, the feel of his thumb rubbing lightly over her hand soothed her somewhat and she kept her gaze now averted from his own. She was being silly.

Blinking her eyes a few times, she finally managed to look back up at him with a slight smile, and with much difficulty, extracted her hand from his own and settled it in her lap.

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't want to. It wasn't very good, especially back then." She worked on an even tone, fingers flexing the slightest, missing his grip. "My parents have always been amazingly supportive of anything I do. They're great really. And they have been up here a few times, but I visit them more mostly. Holidays and things."

[feelingthirsty]

Jasper couldn't feel the pain winding its way through Crysta's chest, but he could see it written plain as day in the downward cast of her eyes and the way she pulled her hand from his grasp. That was to be expected; he shouldn't have flirted with her as he had. What wasn't expected was the stabbing thickness in his own heart, which was just a useless lump of unmoving muscle these days anyway.

It was difficult not to reach out and comfort her, physically if he couldn't use his abilities. Bad as that idea was, he really didn't like seeing people in pain, especially ones he cared for. And he did care for Crysta. Even if he ended up hurting her irreparably and they never spoke again, he knew he'd continue caring now that he'd started. It was a character flaw, a curse he'd lived with since he was human himself. Better to avoid humans entirely and avoid the heartache they inevitably caused, and that he inevitably caused them. Easier.

He withdrew his hand to his own lap, trying not to look at it. He could still feel the warmth. Her warmth. He was going to have to stop this now, before he got addicted. He wasn't very good at controlling his addictions.

"It's going to be dark soon." The sun was low over the horizon, partially hidden behind the tops of the forest on the other side of the river. His vision barely changed at all in the darkness, but he knew hers did. They should be getting back.

[crystamaye]

Dark. Yes, he was right. The rosy glow of the sun as it began to lower was a good indication, but she really didn't want to leave. It was just her and Jasper, secluded in this bubble almost. But bubbles eventually popped.

So nodding, she glanced towards the horizon, the odd hues the sun was throwing off washing over her face. "It is." She agreed, but didn't say anything about leaving. A small, desperate part of her, wanted to hold on to this, just for a little longer.