his head's on fire and his heart is burning

[deaths_head]

Who: The Shade (deaths_head) & Nieve Winslow (icanmakeit)

What:
The Shade's been stewing over something for a while--too long for a damn wind chime.
When:
late November/early December
Where:
Oak & Iron
Warning(s):
None I can think of? Will add if they come up.

I am not good at making things with my hands, not like you.

Those words have been rattling around in his head for weeks upon weeks, never far from his thoughts. The pan flute, the wind chimes--nothing that's been mentioned since. Granted, there's been a hell of a lot going on, but when his hand is left idle, he's found himself sketching ideas. When he hasn't got a face left in his head to carve out of whatever bit of wood finds his fingers wrapped around it, he's been whittling everything from penny whistles to recorders. Anything that the air can sound upon.

The air...or the breath...

The notion brings him back to the library a few times, sends him hunting in the woods, and when he's got something he likes he leaves a note under Nieve's door one morning.

Oak & Iron, lunch. Need to talk to you.

When she arrives, she'll find the Shade folded into a chair at a table near the back--not uncommon for him, here or when he's met her in their world. When she reaches him, she'll find him with a pan flute he's working on, carefully measuring the width before setting a penknife against one of the tubes to carve a symbol into it before blowing a gentle breath across the opening to check the note.

Rather than the hollow song of the reed it appears to be fashioned from, a deeper note plays--one that almost can't be heard, but will resonate in Nieve's chest with a tone that ignites pure dread.

Comments

[deaths_head]

The Shade just stares at her blandly for a moment, wondering what the hell else it could be for in her head.

“If I wanted to keep folks away, little baggage, I’d just let you camp out by my front door.” He quips, giving a lock of her hair an affectionate tug. “Yeah, it’s for that damned alarm. Been chewin’ on it for a spell, then I did some pokin’ around the library and remembered Orpheus blowin’ on the river reeds to make his music when he done lost Eurydice.”

He pauses, pointing at her warningly.

“And don’t think I didn’t catch that little slip of the tongue, young lady—I want names later, if you got ‘em. I can’t kill nobody here but I can damn sure make ‘em pay.”

[icanmakeit]

Her eyes narrow for a fraction of a second before she scoffs at him, brushing off the comment about her being baggage. She doesn't even seem to mind the way he tugs at her hair which reminds her of a little boy doing it for attention but she won't tell him that. That doesn't mean she doesn't have a retort for him though.

"If you wanted me to come visit you more, you can just ask. You don't need to come up with ridiculous excuses like that," she huffs at him before growing silent and seeming surprised. "But honestly, I thought you just forgot about the alarms."

It is kind of touching that he had remembered and had been 'chewing on it' all this time.

"There are no names," she waves a hand at him while studying the reed. "It was my own fault for being in the woods and not running when I saw the thing. I got away though but it was close. Nearly lost all my insides."

[deaths_head]

The remark she makes about visiting gives him pause. He's never been shy about calling on his souls--proximity brings power, to both of them, hence giving them the means to summon him directly. He can care for them better if he's present, draw on their strength, even the collection of the soul at the time of death is more peaceful than simply letting his claim draw them to the Vale...

His souls don't visit him in turn. There's no reason, no need...so why, when she offers that, does his head lift and his chest squeeze with something so painful that, for a moment, he can't breathe?

This one--this feeling he remembers. He's just not sure when he got fucking lonely without noticing.

The Shade looks away hastily, focusing on the pan flute. Spotting a shallow scoring in the mark he'd just carved, he pulls it closer to himself again and gets busy touching it up with his penknife.

"I don't forget much what comes outta your mouth, Winslow." he admits gruffly, but quietly. "You may be a pain in the ass to keep alive, but if you--if your life wasn't so goddamn important, I wouldn't put up with the headache. That includes takin' a switch or worse to whatever it was that came at you in the woods, I ain't gonna let that go so don't fuckin' ask."

[icanmakeit]

She hates loneliness, how it can be a shadowy creature that creeps up on you and burrows its way into your very being to fester for a while before you even notice it. She can be pretty ruthless about cutting it out though, telling herself that she prefers to be alone because then it means she can focus on her work. Especially since she can be easily distracted and sometimes lose track of her friendships, or relationships, except for those who seek her out.

So she recognizes the look on his face when he realizes the truth before he pushes it away much like she does in favor of focusing on work. It causes a bit of pressure in her chest and she decides then that she will have to visit him more. "Maybe we should start having morning coffee or tea, whichever you prefer."

There, that seems easy enough.

Then she rolls her eyes as he gruffs at her, glancing away as she feels grateful for the fact that he isn't looking at her when he mentions her being a pain in the ass to keep alive. She figures he won't forgive her when he figures out the truth but she'll cling to him now knowing for a little longer.

"You're not going to do that now that you're no longer all mighty and immortal," because she won't take the risk. "I'm careful now when I go into the woods. If I hear any growls or things breaking, I leave pretty quickly. I don't stay around to find out what's going on anymore."

[deaths_head]

"I may be mortal, but I'm mighty enough to throw you over my damn shoulder and cart you away from trouble, I don't care if it makes me a caveman." the Shade snipes gently, but insistently. Gently, he nudges her with his elbow and a scowl that doesn't reach his eyes.

He remains silent until he's satisfied with his recarving of the rune, then shoves the pan flute towards her.

"You find me a cup of tea that'll keep me awake like a good cup of joe, and we can have your all-fired tea. Till then? Coffee." he continues, discreetly accepting her invitation even as it unfurls that knot in his chest and loosens something deep in his bones.

"Meantime, you take that 'n put it up at your place. See how well it works--should play a tune with a visitor and that sour note I blew if someone means you ill. If you like it, but you're still hell bent on them wind chimes, I got a few ideas there, too. Same construction, but free-swingin' for something a little less overtly supernatural."

[icanmakeit]

Nieve stares at him quietly for a moment when he threatens to haul her up over his shoulder so he can cart her away from trouble. It is a sweet offer but Nieve normally doesn't like being manhandled. At least, she doesn't think so even though she feels a tiny bit of a flutter at the idea of him doing it.

"You do know I could probably take you now, right?" She hums with a considering look, almost as if he should consider it too.

She looks away then, glancing down at his offering after he agrees to have coffee and tea together. Which pleases her too and there is no way of hiding the small smile that flits across her lips. Of course, it could be because of the work he has done which she can't help but admire the pan flute, thinking it would be easy to make into wind chimes. "I think you should make a set just to see while I try this at my place."

Then she focuses her dark eyes on him again, softening her smile. "Thank you, Shade."