I’ve often wondered how a younger Succubi might try to relate to others… Is she guarded? Open? Aloof? Not sure which would be the right way really for the moment…
By TeraS and makuta15
“Oh I have lots of those…stories…” She looked at the walls, then continued, “I’ve told so many of them to so many walls that I think by now they are all bored to death about hearing them.”
She shrugged a bit at his words about being alone, “Not everyone has someone. There are a lot of us that just watch from the edges as other people do things and be things that just can’t happen for us. Not trying to say that I’m mad or sad about it, just know that this is my world and few people will, or could understand it.”
She looked at him, her eyes not really sad, but resigned to her world and how things were giving him one little clue in her next words, “Doors aren’t always open to everyone.”
As her food heated up, she noted that Eric’s marshmallow was starting to burn a bit and said, “I think you should watch your food. Burntmellows aren’t that good I think anyway.”
She seemed to consider what story to tell and then with a slightly crooked smile said, “Once upon a time there was a chicken that crossed the road… Stop me if you have heard that one…”
“Ha!” He burst into laughter, chuckling over Tessa’s “story.” “I suppose I may have deserved that,” he said a mite ruefully, retracting his “burntmallow” and quickly puffing out the flame. “I just got caught up in the moment, what with the haunted house bit and all…didn’t mean to pry.” Crunching into the blackened mess, he mulled over her words as he chewed.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, pausing every now and then to gulp down bits of marshmallow. “I know a bit about watching from the edges myself. Always playing it safe, never taking any risks…” he trailed off for a while, watching the fire shimmy and sway in silence. A thought flitted through his mind. I wonder what she meant by that thing about doors.
By now it was well into the evening. Wind outside rustled the sparse trees around the property; every now and then, a floor creaked somewhere in the manor, but he put it off as the normal grumblings of any old house. Maybe there was nothing to those rumors after all…if so, what did it mean for his “big adventure?” For the moment, however, he put those thoughts aside. Turning towards Tessa, he looked her in the eye for a moment and then spoke.
“I wouldn’t write off all doors as closed,” he began. He spoke slowly, as if not quite sure what to say. “I’m here because I’m trying to open a few doors myself…and you? I know we’ve kind of just met, but I have a hard time thinking of any door you couldn’t open if you tried.”
She shrugged a bit as she took a bite of the now warm hot dog, blowing air in and out of her mouth before chewing it and swallowing it.
“Weren’t prying. If I didn’t like it I would tell you so. It’s just that a lot of the stories aren’t good ones, not horrorshows or disasters, but travelling on your own isn’t like they talk about in the movies. Or TV to be honest. Not a lot of golden hearts and nice people there.”
Looking at him she waved the hot dog at him, “Present company excluded.”
She then seemed to flinch at his comment about doors and managed a short, “You’d be surprised.” Before taking another bite of her hot dog and chewing on it again.
Then she turned the conversation towards him again with the question, “So, I understand why you would want to try to step outside the lines, but I have a question for you. If you step outside them now, will that mean you continue to do that or will you just so back to your old ways when the night is through?”
And so the questions begin to ask where the story must go…