stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Harley was met with that sound of amusement from Matteo in response to her words, shaking his head in response to that mention of 'you-ness'. If the fairy wanted her to explain the impossible, he should come back tomorrow. Tonight, was not the night to attempt to muster what she wasn't quite sure of herself. Whether she liked it or not, he was here in the flesh, those familiar cunning silvery eyes watching her like he was assessing how bad that damage was. That usually cheery demeanor was lacking which only confirmed that she looked as bad as she felt. How she wished for her own mask. She would never think the fae to tread lightly on anything. That normally defiant gaze usually had no problem staring him down with a startling unflinching nerve, yet now, she could feel those dull purple eyes seeking for something safe to linger on. Those words were merely uttered, lacking its normal conviction. Like she thought before, if he had come even a day later, maybe that would a different story. "I cannot argue with that. Except for one teeny tiny part. You couldn't be any less you, even if you tried." Perhaps that you-ness was the very thing she could expect to remain constant. Maybe, just like she couldn't be any less her and keep her damn mouth shut, it was a battle of truths it would seems. Somehow, along the course of a few miserable days, that sneaky doubt had seeped its way inside and made a fucking home. She wanted it gone.

He gestures toward the vanilla cakes and a fresh pot of coffee, in which her gaze seemed to follow. Something so mundane and yet... it was like he asked her to jump off a cliff into an alligator pit. It was just cake. God, she was a shitty host, even on the best of days. Her eyes widened as if she couldn't comprehend this strange kindness, sifting through the fragments of her mind as if searching to figure out what she wanted, right now at this very moment. To get out what she wanted to say, an outlet to this poison prison trapped inside of her. She hated feeling so weak and on display. Even that shifty Felix the cat clock seemed to once be a cheery backdrop, but those shifty eyes and swinging tail only served to mock her further. Felix was an asshole, plain and simple. It was decided. She narrowed her eyes at it with certain scorn.

Harley simply could not help those bitter words that escape her so suddenly. If the ancient fae had felt the sting to its barbed spikes, his face remained unreadable, a pristine calm like a glass smooth pond with not a single ripple of emotion. Nothing remained save for a calm honesty, that was unexpected. That surprise nearly shows as she couldn't help but stare, wondering who this imposter was. No quip? Her brows furrow into a frown. Why not just one more thing to add to the pile of shit she couldn't figure out? Her lips twitch, in neither a grimace or a smile, merely reaction to those nerves that were still firing off within her.

After a moment of silence, he continued, embellishing on what he has meant. He truly had seen it all, had known... Her body tenses at the realization, unsure she liked him knowing everything. No one in her life had that kind of knowledge, they only knew what she offered and it wasn't a whole load of much. Now that obscurity had be torn from her, that trauma on display like a exhibit at a museum. Had he seen her fall apart in the confines of that cold cell? Did he see the way she sent those men to their graves? The true undiluted fear from being a bit. Perhaps the one thing that had sent her off the edge single-handedly. Did he see the way she struggled, her helplessness? She could feel her heartbeat racing at the thought. But he only spoke of Tybalt's face at her blatant defiance. She remembered it too, that very memory seems to flit across her mind almost causes her lips to quirk into a smile. Oh, that face, how could she forget how genuinely flabbergasted that vampire was. " I have never seen a vampire that old look that way before... It probably did him some good." Not that it mattered, he was impaled shortly after.

She lifted her free hand, how much effort it took to lift that heavy limb just to run a finger across the rim of her new hat that cast an obscure shadow across her face. "They are not men who are used to being told no. Vampires.. so presuming that every woman is so eager to be a whore for the right price. You would have gotten more of a show if they actually tried to make me." There was a hint of life, a tiny little spark, despite how minute it was that lit within her voice. She replayed that conversation within her mind as she meandered across that room to her dining room table where the distracting display of cake lay. One foot in front of the other one. She could make it, it took some careful concentration and wobbly legs like a newborn filly walking for the first time. Just like that her legs near tangle within each other, but she catches herself in a stumble. No, you don't. She had enough humiliation for now. "I hate your legs." she mumbled quietly to herself, glaring downward as if they were another entity that seemed dead set on fighting her. Placing that hat on the corner of her chair she allowed herself to fall heavily within it, placing her box and folded violet sunglasses next to her.

Anger churns within her with relentless zeal, she couldn't suppress it. She declared she would glare at him from here, those once vibrant purple eyes barely catching that eyeroll. She almost wanted those teasing words that she so attempted to bait from him. There was none of the same old bravado now. Harley for a moment, didn't know how to respond. Her mind as sluggish as the rest of her malfunctioning body.

He claims he was here to help and those very words almost made her flood with tears as though she could have burst out crying right then and there, but there were no tears to spill even though that lump in her throat told her otherwise. Not now at least, but it felt like she wanted to. She hated it, hated that filthy weakness swelling in her chest. In an effort to pull herself together she focused on those cakes, unable to resist them. Her nose twitching at the scent before stuffing her face after a hesitant nibbling. Damn that was good, sweet and moist as though they had just recently cooled. It seemed to awaked her taste buds that almost felt overwhelmed by the most delicious cake she had ever tasted in her life. Maybe it was the starvation talking.. or maybe it was just that good. She watches the way stirred that soup once more, before dishing that food in the same gracefulness that he moves through that kitchen. She placed an elbow on the table, as that irritation seemed to lash within her, he knew.. he knew and he didn't do a damn thing to help except for those glasses. As though that cake had given her just enough fuel to toss those stones she was eager to throw, embarrassed by her own vulnerability. It brought a frown to his handsome features, that perfect stoic mask flickering before her. Harley found it, a weakness in that armour. Despite that weariness, she allowed her eyes to bore into him as though he were the enemy here. The enemy that was serving her dinner and cakes. It was almost easier to be mad at him than it was to be grateful for him. He easily bypasses her previous words, not allowing a hint of irritation flare. Deceptively not as effective as she thought.

A sigh escapes her. He had promised help.. but judging how the first round went, she wasn't sure that she could be. "You still think you can? After that shit show? Really? Go right ahead. Help away." There was a hint of disbelief in her words, as though she wasn't quite certain of anything anymore. As if dried blood, bruises, burns and cuts and that disheveled appearance wasn't enough of a hint that maybe unless he had a nuke in his armoury, this might not bode so well. There was that bitter skepticism raising its ugly head.

In an instant he glides with ease across the room before placing a bowl and spoon before her. There was a flicker of something as if a ghost of that amusement from that power summoned those cut slices of appetizing already buttered bread. She wondered if someone was helping him from wherever he plucked that accompaniment of bread from. Like an adept chef magician. She drew in a breath, being lulled by those smells, there was something that crusty bread and butter did. The disheveled woman picked up that spoon, toying with a piece of meat within her piping hot soup. Regardless of those secrets, this meal was still nice as much as she was itching for a reason. "Thank you." She wasn't a monster... completely. Her head lifted to allow those eyes to peer up at him, purposefully placing everything just so.

In a flash, Matteo disappears and appears once more almost instantaneously in the chair across from her, along with his own bowl placed before himself. Her gaze slicing toward him, that look almost predatory, like a cat following a laser pointer. What she would have given to be able to teleport, if for the only reason to fuck with those who wished to do her harm. She would imagine it would have been hard to sink fangs into a body that could not stay in one place for long. Matteo had already helped himself to the dessert. Somehow eating sweets before a savoury meal felt like they were breaking the rules somehow, society so happy to dictate that one had to eat dinner first. She dropped that spoon, allowing that soup some time to cool, plucking another piece of cake between her fingers. She examined it before picking up that conversation of helping. "Unless you mean help me pack up my bags.. Your visions.. fate or whatever doesn't seem to like me much. So I'm thinking tiny island in Indonesia. It's not really my usual style.. but hey.. when in Indonisia... Embrace it, you know? Oh and best part, no stupid cowboys." She then bit into that cake, those seemingly random grumpy mumbling the ramblings that entered her mind. Nothing she hadn't already fantasized in that cell. It was one of many scenarios playing out in her mind. She knew it was realistic and for a second, she didn't care. Fantasies never hurt anyone.

For the briefest of moments, she had forgotten how pissed she was, after that second piece of cake demolished, she felt a little less weak, that rising blood sugar certainly helped. She returned to her spoon fiddling, toying with the utensil within her fingers, staring at that soup, seeing a warped reflection in that rich brown broth. How quick that anger was to return, acting out. That hurt the perfect catalyst and he was merely there to spur it and perhaps he had played a part in it. It was hardly fair, but he was one of those reasons. He offers himself to unleash her frustrations on, to be her proverbial punching bag. While she was angry with him for not sharing that future with her, not giving her a chance to defy that hand fate offered her. It felt easy to direct that anger at that man across from her. For a second, she stopped her idle toying of that spoon, considering that very offer, her gaze rising to peer at that silver eyes of that fae. How terribly selfless. Or was it guilt?

Without her walls, she wished she could have found something barbed and witty to say. She parted her lips, drawing for a breath, perhaps she could bypass all that bullshit tonight. Maybe being a little beat up put things into perspective. "Truthfully? I want to do all of those things and none of things. Part of me wants to defy you simply because I think it would feel good. Part of me wants so many things and none of them. I am so mad and yet too tired for that bullshit. I guess I could yell.. but for what? If I had to choose.. of all your choices. I would prefer to laugh. I am too damn sick and tired of being angry all the time." A feat that seemed so entirely unlikely, laughter seemed to far away now. A hint of a challenge flashed within her eyes, weak and yet still there. Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

His next words mention that survive. This did not feel like surviving yet he dared to call it such. She supposed she was alive and that was a start. "I did survive.. partially because of him and partially because of me... and partially because of you." His words lit a match within her though, not giving into Darcy's sick desires of breaking her. Matteo had a point. Would she allow Darcy to do the one thing she had denied all the others? To truly break her? "Sharkface may have won this battle... but the war... is still paying out. With or without me. I suppose a lost battle means nothing in that larger picture.. Even though dealing with the aftermath this second. It sucks. God damn does it suck." There was an eerie calm in her words then She lowers to gaze to peer down at those sunglasses and box as though there were answers in the grain of the wood for a brief pause. "At least, I can firmly say I know the quickest way to vampires heart." She waits for him to ask the question of how. There was a dryness, a bitterness and yet somewhere buried beneath it was an attempt of a joke or seriousness.

She took a spoon full of broth, drawing forth the hot liquid to her lips. That beef broth immediately warmed her insides, sliding all the way down. It nearly made her shudder. Surprise flashed across her face, sitting up. "This soup is fairy sorcery. I'm sure of it." Accusatory are those words, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that she was joking. Regardless, that taste ignited a hunger within her. As it would seem, she was not invulnerable to tasty food.

Harley Westward