http://blazons.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] blazons.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] capeandcowllogs2009-09-25 11:58 pm

(no subject)

WHO: Coat of Arms ([livejournal.com profile] blazons) & Nigel Colbie ([livejournal.com profile] his_instrument).
WHERE: A coffee place near Central Park.
WHEN: After Coat's post.
WARNINGS: Young creepers.
SUMMARY: Intense, obsessed teenagers discussing their passions.
FORMAT: Whatever we want, k.

8:55 PM.

There is a young woman in a thick, dark coat sitting outside of a brightly lit coffee shop just eat of Central Park. She has a serious, but pretty face, and despite the only mildly cool evening, she wears heavy leather gloves. Still, she cradles her coffee cup carefully in her hands, blowing away the steam and pushing ripples across the surface before sipping. Chai, Ghirardelli chocolate, coffee, and milk. It's perfect. She exhales gently.

The weather is nice. Her coffee is warm. It's a good evening to meet and talk.
pike: (.smile)

[personal profile] pike 2009-09-26 06:31 am (UTC)(link)
Two minutes later.

A young man is standing at a nearby crosswalk watching the traffic go by. Even though there's no reason to, he stares into their headlights, taking note of the way the beams leave phosphorescent trails across his vision. It's merely a symptom of ocular fatigue -- he knows this quite well, actually -- but that doesn't stop him being at least mildly entertained by it. At least for a moment.

When the sign at the crosswalk flickers over from red to white, the stranger strides across the painted pedestrian lane towards his destination. Sure enough, a young woman is waiting for him there, a coffee cup nestled in the black leather nest of her hands.

The boy smiles with just his mouth in the beginning. But they have time.

"Coat of Arms?" he asks.
pike: (.dashing)

[personal profile] pike 2009-09-26 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
If Nigel were a different person, he would probably observe that the young woman who calls herself 'Coat of Arms' is actually very beautiful. There's something appealing about her bone structure, the shape of her eyes. But Nigel isn't that kind of person, so instead, he notes the various features of her face -- the slope of her nose, the rises of her cheeks -- and wonders what her skull would look like stripped clean of skin and flesh. His smile faintly widens as he places a hand on the back of the chair across from her.

"I like being punctual," he says and pulls the chair out just far enough for him to sit. He doesn't, however. Simply gestures to it with a hand as if to ask for permission. "You're early as well."
pike: (.sociopath)

[personal profile] pike 2009-09-27 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
Nigel is also attentive to details. His was, after all, reared on them. Being the son of a headmaster and the grand master of his particular order meant there were protocols to follow. Rules as far as behavior was concerned, manner of speech, politeness. And as much as Nigel grew to eventually hate all these things, he also grew to be a creature of habit and so, all of those unwanted remnants of his upbringing remain even to this day.

He nods, thankfully, and then sits, folding his hands neatly on the tabletop in front of him. "You're a very thoughtful person, aren't you? I can tell, even now, only having just met you."

Nigel's attention drops down to the mug that sits so meticulously arranged in front of her. "Quite a rare breed," he says quietly -- mostly to himself.
pike: (isn't this delightful)

[personal profile] pike 2009-09-27 05:43 pm (UTC)(link)
At the mention of destiny Nigel's smile changes -- the muscles in his face rearranging (some loosening, others tightening) into something far different than the kind of politeness that privilege has cultivated in him. A silent reverence shines in his eyes, making him look young and excitable. The sheen of courtesy falls away from his expression to expose something else entirely -- the flush of obsession.

He leans over his hands towards her, his voice dropping low in his throat. There is a sudden playfulness to it that seems almost odd on Nigel. "Destiny. Of course. It's not the sort of thing most others would allow to rule them. But not you."

He leans back again and looks her over another time, then corrects himself: "Not us."
Edited 2009-09-27 17:44 (UTC)
pike: (.revelation)

[personal profile] pike 2009-09-27 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Giving oneself over to fate is not an easy task; Nigel knows this. Destiny, after all, is not forgiving -- it does not bend to the concepts of wrong or right and is not swayed by the pull of any moral compass the way that most people are. To be able to allow oneself to step outside of these things in order to follow one's fate wherever it may lead is not something most people are capable of. Nigel wonders idly what makes this girl -- this Coat of Arms -- so special.

In the end, it doesn't make much difference. Their respective paths have brought them both here, to this very moment. And that -- in and of itself -- is all that matters.

"Yes," Nigel says quietly, nodding. "It has." He raises an expectant eyebrow. "And I do believe when we last spoke you expressed interest in knowing what exactly that mission is, am I correct? Because, despite whatever my companion might think, 'Coat of Arms' -- I must admit that I am rather inclined to tell you. Do you know why?"