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[an_evening_star]

"... 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."

Comments

[an_evening_star]

Her voice is quiet and level, hands folded in her lap and posture stiff and oddly formal. A slow blink, down her nose at him, and her chin tilts at a haughty angle - it's a position that he very likely knows, even if it hasn't been used for some time.

"Awake now, moron?"

[tristranthorn]

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he says, still rubbing his back.

Slowly, Tristran begins to get to his feet. "A simple 'Wake up' could have sufficed."

...Yeah, right.

[an_evening_star]

"Because it worked ever so well when I tried it," she replies dryly, brushing off the material of her skirts as she stands.

Her full height might not be anywhere near impressive when standing next to him, but the glare still is.

She's had a lot of practice.

"Unless you always attach yourself to people before waking up."

[tristranthorn]

Tristran blankly stares at her for a moment before shaking his head, possibly even muttering a 'whatever' under his breath (he doesn't really like being so rudely awoken, alas).

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says.

[an_evening_star]

His apparent disapproval only serves to darken the whole of her completely, like some strange internal light being switched off.

She's always been much better at being angry.

"You never do," she answers sweetly. "I cannot say that I am terribly surprised."

[tristranthorn]

Okay, that right there? That was probably Tristran rolling his eyes -- something he's never actually done in front of Yvaine before.

"I suppose not," he says. "After all, I am nothing but some stupid moron to you."

He lets out a sigh. He's tired from all that story recitation. All he wants is a little bit of sleep.

[an_evening_star]

"Oh, of course."

She wavers slightly and looks, for a moment, as though she would very much like to cry - before her eyes narrow to angry slits, voice a low hiss of displeasure.

"If you insist on being impossible you can just go back to my room to fucking sleep," if he wants to be miserable, she can be every bit as miserable - and then some. "I'll stay here, I am most certain that my former company of simpering idiots will be utterly glad to have you."

[tristranthorn]

Tristran has to bite his tongue for a moment because her anger is suddenly grating on his nerves, and that never happens. It's never happened.

"I --"

Pause.

"Look."

He shifts.

"I am not being impossible," he tries, voice as even as he can manage. There is still an irritated edge to it that he can't dispel. "I'm just tired, that's all. I've been telling them stories from morning till night. I've been losing my voice over it, and I've barely had any time to sleep."

[an_evening_star]

She's tired. She's tired all the same and she's been trying rather desperately not to be irrationally upset (With herself? With him? With everything else? She's not precisely certain.) with no real amount of success. She doesn't even listen to herself anymore.

She's been an absolute moron, thinking that this was all okay.

It's distinctly not okay.

"I'm terribly sorry that your nap wasn't finished," she doesn't bother making half as much of an effort to mask her irritation. She sees no real point - he already knows that she's irritated. "But unless you want to remain here for the rest of eternity and be ravished by the town harpies come morning, I would suggest leaving in a timely manner."

A low mutter, she hates people.

"Though I'm certain that your pastry would still want you had your virtue is sullied by miserable fawning females."

[tristranthorn]

He opens his mouth to say something -- possibly something a little less polite than what he probably should say to a young lady (even if the young lady happens to be a very irate star) -- then closes it again.

"Please don't speak of Victoria like that," he says, voice low. "She is not a pastry."

He's allowed her to refer to Victoria as the 'pastry' or 'pastry-maiden' for a while now, but at this very moment in time, he just...just doesn't accept it.

There should have been rules from the start about this.

About his ... getting close with the star, and feeling like -- well, like an absolute idiot, that's what.

"I would never --" he starts, then shakes his head. "It's too dark, anyway," he says instead. "We'll never be able to find our way out at this time of night."

[an_evening_star]

"Fine," she says. "But I am going - you cannot keep me here no matter how thick the chains are that bind me, Tristran Thorn."

He's been confusing lately. Confusing and impossible and she can't. She didn't ask for this - for any of it - and if remaining here is a preferable option for him, than so be it.

She doesn't care. Not right now - and she'd much rather be alone anyway.

"And you think that I have a great deal of trouble seeing at night? Or are you afraid of where I will take you?" her chin ducks now, hands shaking in an entirely unnecessary manner and nails cutting angry red marks into her palms. "I apologize that I am what you get, but I do suggest that the next time you make promises to beautiful girls you leave me out of them."

[tristranthorn]

"You --" He stops abruptly. "You can't leave. You've told me, where I go, you go. If I don't leave, you can't either."

Well, that is simply the weakest attempt at keeping her with him, but there you have it. He isn't thinking very clearly right now, anyway, and something inside him suddenly hurts.

"And -- well, I never expected you to be a lady, remember? When I went in search of that falling star, I had expected to find a rock."

He crosses his arms.

"You can be rest assured that I won't be making any other promises to any other girls. There is only one girl for me, and her name is Victoria Forester."

[an_evening_star]

"I don't care!" her voice hitches unpleasantly and she can't breathe. It isn't fair. "I can go as far as I can and - and what right do you have to tell me what to do in the first place?"

She's close again - too close - one finger pressed accusingly against his shoulder and her own heartbeat traitorously loud between her ears.

"It isn't - it -" she swallows, ignoring the way her vision swims and spinning angrily, stalking back the way she came in and flinging the door open. "It isn't as though you can't find me."

It slams shut behind her, painfully loud, and she barely makes it a step before slumping down against it - hand braced against her chest and shoulders up about her ears miserably. The dog waiting behind the door whines quietly and noses its way timidly to her side.

"Stupid thing," she mutters, swiping angrily at her eyes - and she isn't certain whether she means the cold nose against her chin or the heart beneath her fingers.

[tristranthorn]

For one gut-wrenching moment after the door slams shut, Tristran stands stock-still where he is, hands clenched into fists at his sides, face full of anger and hurt and something that is very close to miserable as he stares at the floor.

Everything had gone wrong. Everything. He feels like an idiot. He is an idiot. A moron. Every single bad thing Yvaine has ever said to him -- it's true. He shouldn't have said those things.

He shouldn't have made her cry -- he saw the tears -- and it makes him feel horrible. So much so that it hurts in his chest.

[an_evening_star]

He's right, really. She can't leave - and she isn't really certain that she would even if she could. The star is pretty sure that she hates that most of all.

She really should go back in. She should go back in and think of something terribly clever to say to fix things - only she's never been any good at fixing much of anything.

The large, black form of the hunting dog noses closer and she lets out a pathetic attempt at a laugh, sounding more like a sob than it has any right to, "Least you don't hate me."

[tristranthorn]

Tristran isn't really sure what to do at this point.

All he knows is that he has to find Yvaine before she ... before something happens, before ...

He needs her.

Snapping out of his spell, he approaches the door and turns the knob.

[an_evening_star]

The suddenness of the door opening again takes her by surprise and sends her sprawling, head thunking rather solidly against the floor and she chokes out an odd sort of noise, and then laughter - still hitching and lost, but almost exasperatedly entertained. Her life sucks.

It's terribly messy, sobbing laughter - arm flung over her eyes and large pile of fur still flopped over her lap - but it's laughter all the same.

"I -" she manages, voice caught in that same mixture of miserable and amused. "I did not get very far."

[tristranthorn]

He practically breathes her name.

"Yvaine."

Then he's rushing towards her, lowering himself to her level and watching her with regret in his expression.

"I'm --" he lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Yvaine. I shouldn't have -- I mean, I -- you really have no obligation to -- and..."

He really, really has no idea how to talk anymore.

"I'm sorry."

[an_evening_star]

"I lied," she replies, not really bothering to move - or to open her eyes. "I was lucky - lucky to fall here, and probably very lucky to have been found by you. I'm sorry, I'm just tired."

And none of it's really lying this time around. It's just leaving out parts.

"It's colder here and I'm tired."

[tristranthorn]

He doesn't really know what to say to that except a very quiet, "...Thank you."

The pain in his chest is subsiding a bit, but oh, there is still thumping and wild beating and realizations.

"Come," he says, "let's ... just go inside for a moment. We'll pack our things, and ... and we'll leave as soon as you're ready."

[an_evening_star]

She shifts herself back into a seated position, rubbing her eyes and murmuring a quiet 'Up now.' to the dog before propping herself against the door frame so that she can tug herself upward enough to stand.

"We could wait," she says with uncharacteristic obedience. "Until morning - if it suits you."

[tristranthorn]

He doesn't touch her this time, doesn't think it right to try either.

They both likely need their space right now, and he is perfectly content to give it to her for as long as she needs. Perhaps he needs it too.

He shakes his head. "No, you're right. Come morning, they'll likely be asking for more stories and I'm afraid I'm starting to run out. I cannot be their bard."

[an_evening_star]

It's comforting, somehow, to do anything - no matter how small and insignificant - all on her own. Makes her feel a bit less useless, a bit more like herself.

"Do want to get home eventually," she allows, joke weak and eyes trained on the floor. "Though I doubt you'll have such an impressive harem there."

[tristranthorn]

He gives her a lopsided smile.

"I don't need a harem," he says, opening the door a little wider for her. "I never did."

[an_evening_star]

"Just Victoria Forrester," she replies, and if the smile she flashes in return is a bit forced for a moment or two that's okay. "I know."

The tug at her chest is a familiar weight now, the kind that she's used to, and it might not really be said that she's glad to be reminded. But at least it's over with. She knows.

"I do pay attention on occasion."