Those Who Do Not Move: Jen's Isolation

Those Who Do Not Move:  Jen's Isolation

"Yes."

Perhaps it's just the triumphant quality of my voice, but Lythalia seems even more worried by my answer.  She smiles further as she begins in a quiet, disarming tone, "Val, you know I have oaths and a calling, right?  I can't ignore someone in my house who doesn't know pleasure."
It's an effort of will not to laugh at that.  "No, fine, do whatever."  It's not that statement.  I'm just giddy in general.  This idea is too perfect.  "You don't need to change anything.

The happier I am about it, the more nervous she becomes.  With the faintest hint of optimism she salvages what remains of her smile and tilts her head to the side, asking "Then, maybe you wanted to get rid of that excess energy?"  She leans in, overly excited and desperately talking over my attempt at a denial, "I'd use my hands.  That's not even sex at all, right?  It's more like a massage.  You wouldn't have to do something you're uncomfortable with, and your discomfort would all fade away."
"You just want to clean off your fingers afterward."
"Val, please," she whines.  "You said you trusted me, right?  So trust me."

I feel the slightest brush against my arm and it jerks reflexively back.  When she sees this she pulls back and lets out a short breath.  "Right," she breathes, looking downward.  She pulls back to kneeling on the other side of the bench.  "Right.  I said I wouldn't scare you anymore today, didn't I?  Yet here I am."
"Yeah, sure, you're terrifying."  I drop the sarcastic tone before adding "Now throw me one of your crystals."

She stares at me with her head slowly tilting to the side.  "You want a manastone?"
"Yep.  That's all I want."  I hold out a hand expectantly.
It takes another long pause before she reaches into the opening in her dress and pulls what looks like a coin purse out of her cleavage.  She unclasps it an pulls out a piece of quartz the size of my thumbnail and places it on my palm before replacing the purse.  I resist the urge to play a quest item jingle in my head.

I rise to my feet.  There's an ease to the motion, as though everything is faster and easier now.  My body's as light as the crystal in my hand.  All of the miserable, confusing, stressful, horrifying parts of the day are remembered only by a now-quiet part of my mind and by the dull throbbing of the muscles of my ribs.
"What are you going to do with it," I hear Sister ask.  Right, I still have this conversation to get through before everything becomes perfect.  Still, I can handle that.  In fact, I'm almost happy to do so.

I turn and announce "I'm going to give it to someone!"  I'm surprised that my voice is as loud as it is, but hide that from Sister.  For her part, she only looks more troubled.
She takes a deep breath, as though getting ready to ask something long and complicated.  Instead what she asks is "Why?"
"What d'you mean, 'why?'  Because she's hungry."
She exhales slowly as her expression grows steadily more complicated.  It almost looks like she's going to start crying again when she leans forward and half-whispers "Val, you know, you don't need a crystal to give a girl spirit energy."

Of course there's a huge assumption that I have no idea what I'm doing.  Why wouldn't there be?  "I do if she isn't interested in me."
The look of confusion grows.  "Then why doesn't she just get more from her husband?"
"She's still working on finding one for now."  I know where we're going from here so I'm just going to intercept the next question.  "And don't ask about her joining the church.  I don't even want to imagine what would happen."  The mental image starts to form but I crush it under heel.
In an instant the look of confusion vanishes.  In its wake is the same condescending and moderately aroused look she usually gives me.  "Val, if she isn't interested in someone else then she's interested in you."

Yeah, this was coming from a mile away.  "You don't know her," I tell her dismissively.  I've got five years' worth of experience here, so I'm not going to hear this same, rehashed argument.
And now there's pity.  "Val, this is for that Ghoul, isn't it?  The one with daddy issues?"
Oh for the love of- "She doesn't have da-"
She rises to her feet while she angrily interrupts me, "Val, please!  She lost her father, so now she's acting like she's not interested at all.  It's just to get attention and approval, and you're giving it to her.  You're just making everything worse!"

And I was in such a good mood a second ago.

Jen's insane, of course, because she wants us to be friends more than she wants sex.  Obviously that's madness.  "I don't know how you manage to operate being as wrong as you are."
This only bothers her more.  "She's just looking for validation, and she's getting it from men telling her how great she is for denying her needs."  She pauses to take a deep breath before continuing more slowly, yet more intensely.  "She's starving herself to make you like her."

I look her in the eyes and repeat "Literally everything."  I speak in slow, simple terms, "We're friends, Sister.  Friends."
She presses a hand to her temple.  "Val, just, make her the offer, okay?  Offer her the energy and see how she responds.  She needs someone to help her and no one else is going to."
"Oh yeah, that sounds like something I'm going to do."
She growls in frustration.  "You are just so-!"

I'm done with this lecture.  "What happened to Tish?  After I left, I mean."
For a second she just stares angrily at me, and I'm stuck with the possibility that she's just going to go back to her rant on how I need to have sex with everyone all the time.  Instead she just lets out a huge, annoyed huff and stares sullenly at me when she answers.  "Dad put her to sleep with magic.  He had to do the same with Cara; she looked like she was about to tear Tish's throat out."
I nod slowly, before laughing to myself.  "You know, it's weird - when I think about it I'm just glad knowing that I never have to worry about you all defending yourselves."
Her sullen glare melts immediately into this worried, depressed stare.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe she thinks that was a sad thing to say.

I start stepping away, getting ready to leave.  I turn and talk while I'm heading off, though.  Maybe I just hate not getting the last word in.  "Your church might never say it, and you might never have it happen, but men and mamono can be friends nowadays.  That's a thing that can happen.  Isn't it just depressing to think that it can't?"

And with that I'm off.

---

shackleborn > hey
shackleborn > how am i getting in your house?
greenmachine > have u cnsidered doors
greenmachine > ?
shackleborn > i have, actually
shackleborn > your mom is pissed at me though
greenmachine > do wat i do
greenmachine > ignore
shackleborn > i dont want to do that
shackleborn > thats more yelling than i want to hear
greenmachine > i bet u get mre at ur house
shackleborn > thats not the point
greenmachine > she wont yell at u
shackleborn > you didnt hear her shouting last time
shackleborn > or maybe you did
greenmachine > she wont yell at u
greenmachine > trust me
shackleborn > just open your window for me
greenmachine > ok

I don't know what Jen's thinking, but I don't want to deal with her mom again for at least a couple weeks.  She was pretty impressively angry with me.  With this I can slip around the back without ever passing in front of the house, in case her mom or sister look out a front window.  It's a short walk to the house, around the yard, and to the half-open window.

I stick my front half into the dark room to find her laying on her bed directly beneath me.  She's actually dressed for once, though admittedly in some ridiculously baggy pair of cargo pants and black v-neck t-shirt, both of which she seems to have gotten from the men's section.  "How do those stay on?"
"Belts and hips."
"Fair enough.  Scoot over so I can get in."

She pushes herself up and pulls in her legs.  I haul myself in slowly to avoid damaging anything on the windowsill.  I'd also like to be quiet, in case someone hears.
"So what's the occasion," I grunt out while I pull in my legs.
She looks honestly surprised by the question.  "For what?"
I gesture vaguely in her direction before using the arm to right myself and slip onto the edge of the bed.  "You're not at school; did you just come from somewhere?"

She laughs, but it's dry and forced.  "Nah, you know, I just figured I should get dressed sometime."
That's bullshit, but it doesn't matter.  Or, at least, it doesn't matter until I find out how it makes me the butt of a joke.  "Why?  You don't have anyone who'll jump you for it.  Pants are for saps."
"Yeah, I guess."  She lifts a leg to look at her pants, "Mom says I should wear something that shows more skin anyway.  Something girlier."
"She's probably thinking more of a bikini than one of your shirts."
"You think?"

I smirk.  "So something girly?  Do her one better; get the frilliest, pinkest tutu you can get your hands on."
She raises a finger educationally and begins to expound in her fakest of serious voices, "While funny, this would require that I wear a tutu."
I nod thoughtfully.  "Yes, yes, that would be terrible."  I lift my hand and make a slow, chopping motion, "Perhaps, then, you could achieve a similarly humorous effect from an Alice dress?"
She pauses and takes to stroking an imaginary beard thoughtfully.  "Hmm.  You see, I can't help but feel that I have come to a similar problem as with your last suggestion."

We both crack up before I finally stop being distracted by Lythalia's random rants about how nobody's fucking enough and Jen's random bullshit and remember why I'm here.  "So, what's goin' on?"
The laughter stops.  She's still smiling, but it doesn't seem like she's doing it because she's happy.  "Well, you know-" she starts, but is interrupted by a line of drool that runs down her chin.

Oh right, she's hungry.  "Hang on," I start, fishing around my pocket.  "I got you something."  She looks at me, then my pocket in confusion.  I'm not sure if it's hopeful or worried.  The hand that was wiping away drool is now just being held to her mouth.
Then I pull out the crystal, and she stares at it.
"Oh."
"Is that it," I ask incredulously.  "Oh?"
No, wait, of course she's not impressed.  She's probably never seen one of those up close.  "It's a manastone.  Take it."  I press the unimpressive chunk of quartz toward her.

"Right," she half-shouts.  "Yeah, wow, thanks.  How'd you get one of these," she asks as she reaches out and grabs it.  It's not a question you ask because your interested, but because you're just talking.  She's seriously off her game right now.  It must be the hunger.  I've never seen her nervous or anxious before, but now everything seems to be setting her off.
"Doesn't matter.  Hurry up and use it."
She grips the stone, turning it over in her hand for a moment.  "How?"

That's a good question.  "Hey, don't look at me.  I don't know."
She continues to fiddle with it for a minute before popping it into her mouth.  She starts moving it around with her tongue, her eyes closed in concentration.
"Hey, I don't think that's how it wor-"
A warm glow shines out through her cheeks for a fraction of a second.  Her eyes snap open.  I jump slightly as she lurches upward, back arched, and lets out a long, high pitched moan.  She holds the position for a few seconds, twitching, before collapsing forward, panting like she just ran to my house and back - and needed to breathe.  The stone falls out of her mouth, black and cracked like a piece of coal, and lands flat on the bed.  Then she looks at me.  I look back.

She moves.
Hair is taking up my entire field of vision.
My lips feel weird and my tongue is being moved.
Something tastes kind of like cinnamon.
My head is being pushed back.

I don't get a chance to work through my confusion before there's another shift in perspective and something rips into my cheek.  I shout for an instant before being pushed backward.
I'm staring at the ceiling now.

I look down - or at least, down from my perspective.  Jen is pressed back against the headrest of the bed, clutching her mouth with both hands, staring at me in shock.
Ah.  She kissed me.  That's what happened.
Judging by the warmth on the side of my head, and the pain on my cheek, it seems she also bit me.

There's almost a feeling of accomplishment as my mind finally correlates everything that's happening.  It's obvious now.
This was her first time tasting spirit energy, so she lost control.  Instincts and reflexes all took over for a second.
So why is she looking at me like that?
I prop myself up on my elbows.  "Hey, you all right?"

Her eyes, if possible, go wider.  "You're bleeding!"
And?  I take a hand and wipe my cheek, then draw the hand out to look at it.  Sure enough, there's a smear of red covering the hand, but nothing big.  It's not like when I go playing with Tera.  "It's just a scratch."
"We need to stop the bleeding," she shouts, about to get up before I shout back.
"It's nothing!  Seriously, it's a scratch."
She stares open-mouthed at me for a little while longer.  "I bit you," she whimpers, still clutching her mouth.
"Yeah, well, first time having spirit energy.  Guess I should've seen it coming."  I pull myself up.  Thinking about it now, it is kind of embarrassing that I didn't think about this beforehand.  I know how Evette gets when she's feeding, and she's used to it now.  The first time was just-
I stop thinking about that.  My face is red enough as it is.

She finally lowers her hands toward me.  She looks like she's honestly about to start crying.  "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I just-"
"No, hey, it's fine."  Why is she freaking out like this?  "It's just a little cut, anyway.  Don't worry about it."
"But I mean, I just," she starts in a panicking tone.
"It's fine.  Listen, it's just a scratch, and it's not your fault."  That doesn't seem to be enough.  "Jen, relax, it's nothing."

She looks down toward her lap.  "It's not nothing."
Oh man, this is awkward.  An uncomfortable silence grows, made all the worse for how things usually are between us.  For the first time, I feel almost fortunate for how much this has happened to me.  All the random pouncing has whittled away my sense of embarrassment to the point that it's practically non-existent.  It's different for her, though.  "Hey, I'm just gonna head off for a bit-"
Her hands grab onto my leg as she shouts "Don't!"  Her head is still resolutely downcast, keeping me from seeing her face.
I wait for a moment.
"Don't go."

Damn.  Is she worried I'm upset at her?  No, she'd know better than that, right?  I relax and plop down onto the bed.  After a moment I reach out with an arm toward her, "Here, you'll feel better afterward."
She just stares at it, eyes barely visible under her bangs, before she opens wide and takes my entire hand into her mouth in one motion.

It's different from usual.  Normally it's like she's covering the entire arm, slowly, trying to complete some weird circuit.  Now, though, it's like she's just holding onto my hand with her mouth.  Not going anywhere, not probing for anything, barely using her tongue at all, she's just laying there with my hand in her mouth.  Whatever she's doing, she's taking her time.

It gives me time to think, though.  I'm going to have a mark on my cheek for a little while, and there's no hiding it from my family.  I could just say how it happened, but it's not like anyone would believe that.  This is a bite that says "he's mine."  It's weird: as good a liar as I am, I doubt I could get anyone to believe the truth.  I suppose I still have to try and tell them it was an accident.
But what if I don't?  Why do I have to do anything at all?  The gears start turning, each one making my smile spread a little further across my face.
Yeah, this'll work.  Now I've just got to deal with Jen while she gets over her loss of control.

I wonder if distracting her wouldn't speed up the process.  "Feeling better?"
"Mmm?"
"I mean, with the energy.  Are you feeling more energetic, I guess?"
She grabs my wrist and pulls my hand out.  "Sort of?  I don't feel tired at all, but I'm still really hungry."  The quiet, higher pitched voice tells me that she's still worried.
That sounds about right.  "Yeah, we need to get you a guy.  I know a couple who're still single, but only one of them's really available.  He's pretty cool.  He's really lanky, but that just makes him ridiculous as a goalie.  I think he wants to join the space program when it starts up; I heard him joking about how he's already closer to the moon than the rest of us.  I think you'd get along."
She pops my hand back into her mouth with a quiet, indecisive "Mm."  Thus the conversation dies once more.

"Hey," she starts back after a while, "you stopped bleeding."
"Yeah, I told you it was nothing."
"How're you going to hide it?"
"I'm not."  She stares at me again in shock, and I realize that she's already misunderstanding something horribly.  "Hey, it's the weekend, and it's not like I can't skip Monday or something.  It'll be the day of the full moon anyway, so they'll probably just assume I'm hiding."  I laugh, "It's not like I won't be."
She wiggles closer, "And your family?"
"They'll think I'm taken, and no one'll think that you are.  It's win-win, right?"

"It really doesn't bother you?"
"Nope.  I've fixed almost all of my problems today.  Now I just need Tish out of my house and everything's golden."
"Any ideas on how you're doing that, mister wizard?"  And like that, everything's going smoothly again.  No more awkwardness, no more confusion, no more worry in her voice: it's like nothing happened at all.
"With any luck, I don't have to do anything at all.  She got into some aphrodisiac that Lythalia put in my milk and tried to go after me, and apparently dad hit her with a sleep spell.  Hopefully she'll be kicked out the second she comes to, and if not then she'll be gone before Monday night."  I turn back to the look at the ceiling.  "Soon everything'll be back to normal."

"You're doing it again!"  She growls in frustration, "Everytime something like this happens, it just turns boring!"  She tries to mimic my deeper voice, but instead just manages to sound like she has a cold, "Oh yeah, a Manticore got hopped up on aphrodisiacs and went after me.  Oh well, nothing interesting happened today, either."
I raise my eyebrows at her, "And what, you'd prefer something did happen?"
"No, I'm just saying that it's a good thing you're not a mage, because your ability to put people to sleep would be legendary."
"I'd become an archmage and make everything slightly quieter."
"People would wonder why all of your spells are a dull grey."
"My fireballs would only go off when no one's looking."
"Your teleport spells would only send people back to their rooms."
"With a little note telling them to stop being assholes."

"So everything's gonna be back to normal, huh?  Since when was 'normal' good enough?"
That's sudden for a shift away from one of our back-and-forth jokes.  I give her a questioning look.
"I remember you going on angry rants about how your 'normal' life was going, usually laying right where you are now."
"Yeah, well, I didn't know what the alternative was.  Besides, I should be able to relax after this."
"Because I bit you," she asks incredulously.
"Because you bit me."

"You really aren't mad?"
"Why would I be?"  She starts to answer with something that seems remotely serious, but I'm not having that.  "You lost control for two seconds.  After what, five years?  If my sisters had that kind of track record I wouldn't need you to listen to my rants."
"I didn't just bite you," she trails off.
I turn away.  I might be hardened against embarrassment, but the way my chest just clenched inward tells me that I'm still nearing some kind of limit.  "Whatever happens, I'm not gonna blame you for your instincts."

Now neither of us is looking at the other.  Oh well, I guess that was to be expected.  I imagine it would have to be horrifying to lose control of yourself.  I wouldn't know, being a human and all.  These things happen, though, and no one's at fault for it.  She knows that.  Or at least, she knows that I think that.

"In any case, I've got a busy day ahead."  I sit up on the corner of the mattress and try to configure my face into something less awkwardly embarrassed, "So unless you'd like me to start ribbing you for having a 'sloppy make-out' instinct-"
I get pelted in the face with a pillow.

"Get the fuck out of my house."