an_evening_star | (no subject)

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"... Tristran and Yvaine were forced to sneak out of the town at the dead of night, and they only escaped because Yvaine persuaded (by some means, on which Tristran was never entirely clear) the dogs of the town not to bark as they left."

-- Stardust, p.248

"We would so love to keep you, Master Tristran," she mocks - voice a high-pitched falsetto, eyelashes fluttering - as she stalks forward, looking altogether rather murderous. "Just one more, please? Oh, my you do look strong."

She feels rather smug with the ease in which she remains distinctly not torn to pieces of any kind, and grins at her walking companion for a brief moment.

"You will forgive me," she drawls down at the hunting dog following along at her side, its dark shoulders set high near to her hip. "If I cannot quell the urge to vomit."

The trip to the room they've provided for Tristran isn't all too far, though the walk itself does manage to reign in her temper considerably, leaving her satisfied enough to ruffle the dog's ears fondly before she slips through the (unlocked - bloody moron) door undetected.

She pauses then and her eyes roll indulgently at the fact that he's already passed out, shoes still on and covers forgotten, and she pads forward quietly.

"Tristran," she singsongs, leaning over his sleeping form - one hand braced above his shoulder and the other hovering lightly over his chest. "Time to go now, Tristran."

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She waits until he's at her side before taking his arm carefully - because it's dark as pitch and she knows he will see nothing of what she can see - and the shock of the contact almost makes her forget to breathe again.

But that's not the point.

"I will not take you anywhere you don't want to go," she says softly, blinking up at him almost shyly. "Even if you cannot see the way just yet."

"I know," he says, and adds, "thank you."

When she touches him, the tingling sensation that he'd grown accustomed to suddenly feels new again. New, and startling; his heart begins to beat uncontrollably once more.

He swallows.

"Just...lead us out of the village and back into Faerie," he says.

"I do think I can manage that much," she smiles, slow and genuine, half shaded under her hair.

It's okay again. Not perfect, but things very rarely are.

"You will tell me if I am terribly off?"

"Of course," he says.

Perhaps things are okay again -- perhaps they are not. For Tristran, his heart is being pulled in two very opposite directions, with one stronger than the other (and it does not take much to figure out which one it is pulling towards).

"If you ask me."

She knows where her heart belongs - and no matter what direction they go, as long as she follows where he goes she is where she belongs.

It's entirely ridiculous and she nearly hates herself for it, but it's true.

"Which way then, Prince Charming?"

He holds his free hand out and points towards the east.

"That way," he says automatically, not even having to think about it.

Readjusting his shoulder-bag, he blinks uselessly in the dark, wondering how on earth the star manages to see in this.

Distantly, he can hear the sound of animal panting.

"Forward then," she laughs, watching his eyes for a moment - that certain element of looking at everything and nothing at all. "I think that I can handle forward."

She can feel the dark shape of the hunting dog against her side once more, tail thumping against the back of her skirts, and she smiles. Not so distant, really.

And so he follows this time -- silently -- where the only sound beneath their feet is the crunching of grass and their soft steps.

'I didn't want them to keep you,' she wants to say, but tightens her fingers slightly instead - it may be unfair that she can watch him now without any trouble, but it only really feels normal.

It's what she is. Stubborn and unnatural and nothing half as finely made up as the most wonderful girl anywhere.

And that's okay. She happens to think that what she has is far more practical anyhow.

"It is possibly cruel that I would very much like to see their faces when you have disappeared come morning."

There is a low-laugh, quiet but amused, distracting him from his thoughts -- thoughts that hover in his mind but were once veiled in a cloud of vagueness, doubt and most of all: denial.

"Yes," he agrees, "though it would definitely be amusing."

It's odd not knowing where exactly he's walking to. Only ambiguous dark shapes against a dark sky appear in his vision.

"But I think I'd much rather be far away from this village once the sun rises."

"Worried they will make you sing next?"

Even the sky is clouded over - unusually dark - nothing seems to quite reach here, which might be why the people of the town don't really expect anything to be able to leave either.

No guards wait up - just the shifting shapes of the hunting dogs roaming quietly, occasionally brushing past.

"Don't trip over the puppies," she warns, and it might be noted that her definition of 'puppy' is a very ... loose sort of one. "They might get upset."

Tristran slows his pace obediently, watching where he steps with extra caution to avoid the so-called 'puppies.'

"I cannot sing," he says quietly, "so they'll likely be very disappointed if they tried to make me; it could actually work to our advantage as they would probably kick us out."

Just because they're nearly bear-sized doesn't meant that they can't be puppies - only makes it easier to know if he did knock into one.

"I'm sure you can sing just fine. It is not so hard a thing to do and you have a fine voice to start with," a pause and her cheeks heat. She shakes her head, suddenly very glad for the darkness. "For a human, of course."

Tristran also can't help but feel his face grow warm at that compliment. He'll try (try, try) not to think too much on it, or put any deeper meaning into it, because that is just the way things should be.

Right.

"Then -- then perhaps one day I should sing for you," he suggests. "It won't be hard then to realize I'm no good at it."

"I think that it would be my job to be the judge of that," she replies and the purposeful haughtiness is an audible thing.

They slow for a brief moment as the terrain changes slightly, Yvaine whispering orders - up then, and now over, worse than steps - snickering quietly as one of the dogs nearly sets him off-balance.

And then quieter, during another lull, "Perhaps I will return the favor."

"I would like that," he says softly. He's heard her sing before -- once, or he thinks he did. It's hard to tell now with so much time passing from the beginning of his journey to this point in time.

It is a moment later when Tristran asks, "Why aren't they barking?"

She's brightened slightly since they've started walking - an unconscious sort of glow at the very edges of her, snaking along her skin, flickery like a candle.

"I have to keep some secrets, Prince Charming," she grins in reply to his question. "Wouldn't be half as interesting if I didn't."

"I suppose," he says, turning his head to spot them. But they're dark animals, too, and he can only hear them panting but it's hard to locate exactly where they are.

"...well, why are they following us?"

"They know where they're going better than I do," she shrugs, then reaches her free set of fingers downward, ruffling dark ears easily. "And I rather figure that it means they like me."

Quiet, and mostly teasing.

"Someone has to."

Tristran doesn't respond to that, simply opting to stay quiet -- with his deep, dark thoughts (as dark, perhaps as everything around him).

She allows him his quiet - and perhaps she needs it for herself just as much - it's not much further to go, at least.

"Are you excited," she asks, facing the opposite direction even though she knows he can't see her. "To be getting home soon?"

On any other day but the last few -- perhaps ever since leaving the pirate ship -- he would have answered 'yes' without any hesitation.

Now, however, it takes him a moment before he answers: "Yes." It is said slowly, and with the barest hint of reluctance.

Pleased though he may to be going home to everything familiar, he is also worried. What will happen to Yvaine? What will he say to Victoria?

"Good," she murmurs and shrugs slightly, shoulder shifting against his. "Not too much longer to wait then."

She's proud that it doesn't sound miserable at all, even skitters somewhere along the edge of pleased.

"Not too much longer at all."

"Mmm...yes," he says in agreement. "Soon the journey -- this quest -- will be over."

It sounds so ... final.

Isn't that the point of finishing things?

"Smile, Prince Charming," she replies. "You can have your ending now."