allgotrabies | IC CONTACT

"Do you know why I like this one?" She pulls the blanket around them, tucking him in the way she does in the mornings.

"No," he admits. "Because Julia Roberts is a brilliant actress?"

"So close!" Her grin sobers just a touch. "Actually, because I saw this one when I was a couple years out of leaving school. And the story in this is 'you have to know yourself before you can love or be loved'. And considering the guys I ran with, it just hit home. Changed how I looked for guys."

"Ah." He sits up at that. "Is that something I need to worry about?" he teases lightly, though he recognizes the seriousness of what she's saying. And, as he always does, he appreciates her candor.

"Oh don't worry, I know myself now. No one's shaking this brain." Including the newly discovered monster part. But she meant what she told him: right now the only thing that matters is she's calm and safe.

"You know so many stories. Was there one that really changed your mind on something?"

"Changed my mind? No. But I have been influenced by stories in my life. War stories, particularly, but not in any profound way, though. Not in the way you describe. It may be difficult to believe, but I have only started really and truly reading since arriving here on the barge. The other stories I've heard have been stories passed down orally."

"You have so many books," she marvels, glancing back at his bedroom. "I thought you'd spent hundreds of years reading stuff like that musty English poet, or those little books people read on the beach. And everything else."

"Oh I read here and there. But even if I spent a solid hundred years doing nothing but reading, I've lived for two thousand. It's such a small amount of time for me. And what I did read was what had already been told to me. Epics I heard over a fire, simply written down. Shakespearean plays I had already seen, now in book form. Books of magic or other artifacts that I collected simply to own."

He laughs. "And you must remember that I did not even know a written language until well into my life."

"My favorite thing as a kid was when my teachers would read to us. And then my least favorite thing was when they'd make us read out loud," grimacing. "I wasn't the worst one. I wasn't good, but I wasn't the worst. But kids are assholes and I always felt bad for the kids who were worse than me."

But it's part of why his reading to her is so soothing, and has become such a welcome routine through their week.

"I've got a little stack of books I wanna read to you sometime. They're so dumb, but they're great before bed."

"Pick one for tonight," he tells her. "It will be something to look forward to tonight." He anticipates that they will end up in his bed that night anyway. Whatever that means for them still remains to be seen, but it hardly matters. He wants to hear the story, no matter what.

"I know the one," she agrees, wondering what exactly Godric will think of Beverly Cleary. She has deeper, more adult books in mind, but they could use something very simple after the week they've had. "But after the movie. We have to see her turn in her running shoes."

"After the film, yes. And I need to work on my watercolors. And I wanted to change all the sheets."

Clearly they have a very busy evening ahead of them. But Godric's going to stay with her, which is the most important thing, honestly.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. "I think I like them better in Pretty Woman."

"Pretty Woman was my favorite fantasy for so long." Perhaps other women had it too, but Annie's life wasn't very far from Julia Roberts's character back then. "But I hate high heels. I saw a guy who was daring his friends to wear 'em surfing...bad idea."

He shakes his head. "What a truly terrible idea," he scoffs. "Though I've never liked heels. In any century. They once were fashionable in France for men. Red heels, even. For nobility. To imagine anyone attempting to surf seems like a recipe for a disaster."

"It was. I wish I'd been there to see it. Heck I wish I was there to see men walking around in red heels, even though noble people seem like they were all a bunch of dicks. Did that lady really tell people to go eat cake?" She shakes her head, and tugs on his shoulder to point at the final scene: the running shoes, the wedding.

"Qu’ils mangent de la brioche?" he laughs before he lowers his voice to a whisper so he can pay attention. "Marie-Antoinette never said anything like that. She threw wonderful parties, but was actually quite charitable. It was a shame about her head."

"That makes me sad," Annie says when the credits start to roll. "I never learned about it really, just stuff you hear from the street poets and whatever. That women would come like, take hair from the heads or something. That everyone went nuts."

The nice night they're having cushions the thought that wolves don't really stray too far from how brutal humans are, rather than the other way around. She looks down at Godric, taking him in like a talisman, a reminder that she doesn't have to follow any sort of bloodlust. It earns him a small, crooked smile even though she doesn't explain why.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" She's exhausted--like she said, she's always exhausted lately--and she always sleeps best next to him.

"Wasn't that the plan?" he points out. "Since you were going to read to me? Or should we table that so I can read to you?" He doesn't mind doing whatever she needs. If she wants to sleep, then she can sleep. If she wants to stay up, then so be it. He doesn't plan on leaving her, even if that means he just stays around the cabin to let her rest.

"I'm gonna be double checking a lot of things for a while," she confesses, "Everywhere. I feel all...shaky sometimes. I know you won't change your mind it's just, like when you aren't sure if you turned a light off when you left a room. But yeah I wanna read to you about a freakin' mouse on a motorcycle. Totally crazy."

"I might be going mad, but I think I'd like to hear about a mouse on a motorcycle. Go on. I'll meet you there in a moment."

He playfully flips the blanket over her face.

She laughs and it abruptly wipes away any lingering melancholy. She's still grinning as she prances off to her room and then goes to his, arranging the blankets and finding a bookmark.

He takes a moment to shut off the television and arrange the living room, returning to his bedroom and tucking her into the blankets before settling down beside her.

"Alright. Go on then."

She clears her throat. "Keith, the boy in the rumpled shorts and shirt, did not know he was being watched as he entered room 215 of the Mountain View Inn..."

It's easier to stay awake as she reads, but by the second chapter she's sunk down against him, her eyelids heavy.

He reaches over and takes the book from her. "This is a good place to stop, I think," he whispers. "More tomorrow."

"Mmkay," she mumbles, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "Can we stay in tomorrow night too?"

(no subject)

loveisall - 2021-05-17 00:10 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

allgotrabies - 2021-05-17 00:12 (UTC) - Expand