the fox and the jackdaw

[attr="class","inspring"]M♡have Deraith

[attr="class","cherries"]you can use them, and you often fool them into believing whatever you desire

[attr="class","summerwine"]The brunette exactly gave the answer she was expecting and nuanced it by stating it wasn't what she did think. But actually, it was. She had already known Jack was a dangerous person. She had felt in Ninthe's earlier words her well chosen thoughts. If Michael was a true and honest friend of Ninthe, his opinion about Jack would be a lot more trustworthy than her own – although even his vision could be clouded by whatever he felt for the brunette himself. However, as Ninthe caried on with her story, another question sprung in mind. 'What made Jack to care about you?' She watched her closely, trying to read her emotions and body-language rather than the words she would be saying. Foxy was curious about the answer. Not because the young woman seemed to be so different from the guy she slept with, but because she was curious about the vulnerable side of darkness. [break][break]

When the brunette mentioned her morals, the redhead shrugged, carelessly. 'I don't care, or give, about your morals. Who am I to judge anyway? I might be a lot of bad things, but I always try to avoid being a hypocrite.' She glanced at Ninthe, considering her words for a moment before replying. 'And isn't there a bit of love in every caring word? You don't have to be in love with someone to love them.'[break][break]

Every consideration faded on the exact moment Ninthe stated she was probably in love. She turned, her eyes blazing, her shoulders tense. No longer the hesitant child but an angry woman. Finally, she couldn't regain the control of her temper in time; she snapped. 'Of course I am in love with him,' she hissed, her voice low and trembling with anger, 'it would take a fool not to see it. But then again, I always found it hard to differ between kindness and idiocy.' She backed away from the young woman. 'Whatever you may think of me, I am not a child any more – probably never been one. I do not own you anything.' She spitted the words out in front of her, barely able to control the rage which was consuming her.[break][break]

She did hardly listen to Ninthe's next words. When she was finished, the foxy girl just looked at her. Her eyes blazing, golden, with hot red sparks. 'Why should I let go of something which is the only thing that could keep me safe over the years? You say you have suffered', she almost stumbled over the next word, 'severe,' unknown as it was to her, 'but have you been beaten black and blue often enough to really know what it feels like when someone raises a hand,' she deliberately waited for a moment, 'in kindness?' For the first time in minutes she lowered her gazes and was she able to control her breath for the tiniest of bits. 'Do you know how the fair feels which is rushing through your body in that moment? How your muscles tense? Because your body, by far faster than the mind, is already waiting for the blow to fall. Can you imagine what it feels like to connect with someone and yet not being able to convince your body there is no danger? In my mind I can feel safe, but my body is always tense – always ready to fight or flight.' It took a lot of effort not to shiver. 'If you know, you must have gone a long way to be able to say 'perhaps you could let go'. But I doubt you do know.' The girl smirked and turned her gaze to the forest-line Ninthe was pointing at.[break][break]

She shrugged when she told her she had to choose. 'As matter of fact: I don't have to choose anything and even if I do, I could still be lying. You would never be able to tell the truth.' She shook her head; smiled a mocking smile. 'But, whatever, you can at least know the story everyone knows about me. Or one of the several myths surrounding it.' She chuckled again, the same sound of irony and self-mockery. 'When I was very young, probably a year, maybe less, the house where I lived caught fire. Some say I was the one who started it, others say fire can't burn me, most say it is nothing more but a pretty story. In any case, the next part is true, because it is confirmed many times: I am saved by a man with black wings. An angel of hell, as he was lighted by the burning house.' Again another smirk. 'Well, it are all stories. It doesn't matter. I have never seen the man again – nor the woman. But the story lives and people remember. They just don't know I am the girl – and now you do. Pleased?' She spit the last word, all sharp and defensive again.

[attr="class","inspring"]M♡have Deraith

[attr="class","cherries"]you can use them, and you often fool them into believing whatever you desire

[attr="class","summerwine"]Ninthe's answer was barely satisfying, but Foxy couldn't really blame her: probably she really didn't know why he was attracted to her. In many ways it didn't really matter either. She had just been curious, but now the answer was empty it was also okay to close the topic. The brunette, however, decided to share a bit of her feelings and the girl listened silently. She wasn't as much intrigued by what she was being told, as by the fact Ninthe was actually sharing some personal stuff. It never ceased to amaze her how easily she did open up to her – or maybe how open she was in general. Like she had nothing to hide. Not that Foxy believe that. Everyone had at least something to hide, Ninthe would be no different.[break][break]

'Darkness is appealing,' she agreed. Although she didn't mentioned she had always felt repealed as well as appealed by danger. It was fun and intresting as long as she was the one who was in control. But she had learned on a very early age stuff could get very dangerous when you took just one step over the border. Somethings, some paths and some men you better stay away from. She smiled to herself, shaking her head a little – all seconds before she snapped.[break][break]

When Ninthe finally fell silent again, Foxy realized she had spoken before she should and most of all: before thinking – or anticipating. Although it was too late to correct that mistake, Ninthe didn't seem to be offended – or she did a real good job hiding it. And instead of rejecting her and turn around to walk away, like Foxy would have, she had been honest again. Almost as vulnerable as honest she had told the girl about the way her family had been brutally slaughtered. She almost hadn't pause to steady her voice; it made Foxy guess she had already told the story many times before. At least often enough to regain the self-control to quite easily tell the whole thing. For a brief moment she felt a spark of adoration – admiration. She realized it must be a relieve to be capable of sharing the hardest moment of your life. That way something hard suddenly had became something easy, along the road. Perhaps it was the paradox of sharing.[break][break]

She closed her eyes for a moment, reconsidering many thoughts. Maybe the brunette was right. Maybe it was okay to open up a bit, let go a bit. To let someone else be in control of your life. Not because you owned them anything, but they could help you to carry a bit of the weight you held on your shoulders. Weight you would otherwise have to carry all alone. However, letting go meant sharing, and sharing meant digging up long forgotten secrets that had been hidden in dark holes for many of years. Sharing would be painful – and even the comfort the other could possibly bring might not be enough. More over, there wouldn't be any insurances, because as she didn't own them anything they didn't own her anything either. They could walk out on her. Like the fallen angel had left her alone. Like her mother had left her in a burning house. Somewhere deep down she corrected herself: she did know nothing of her mother and it was fairly possible she had been burned herself.[break][break]

Eventually the fox let go of the breath she had been holding. 'I apologize. I never have learned how to be kind. Someone once told me that people are born with selfish desires, such as the need to eat, that's why it easy to recognize these desires in others. However, kindness is something we have to develop all by ourselves, so it is hard to see when others try to be kind to you.' Her voice trailed away as the young redhead gazed upon the sky. She could sense the young woman wanted to know more and was eager to listen to her, but there were feelings and thoughts Foxy simply couldn't let go of. Things she didn't want to share, even although the stranger was probably trustworthy. She had lived a life of hiding and by now there wasn't a simple escape from that anymore.[break][break]

After a few minutes she caught up with her thoughts again. 'When you have always been surrounded by at least someone who never betrayed you...' She shrugged. 'I suppose it is easier to recognize this kindness in others – to learn to trust them and to connect with them.' Her voice faltered for a moment. 'Perhaps I will learn in time, but for now I have simply been betrayed too many times to be capable of trust.'[break][break]

For the first time since her angry words Foxy took the time to turn and look at her. Intently she focused on the green eyes and silently she tried to unravel the secrets that belay in them. Like always she felt suspicious, as if the young woman had done nothing else than lying – she knew she was being unreasonable, but still. 'Magic?' she repeated. 'What do you mean?' For the very first time since she had met her, she felt like sharing. She felt a spark in her chest and the urge to tell her about her gift. For the very first time she did want to make a connection. Not for the sake of connecting, but for the sake of learning, of growing. She hoped she had finally met someone who could tell her about her powers. She had been alone with them for a very long time – and she was fairly sure she could be a lot stronger than she was now, if there only was someone who could help her practice. Who could teach her. And yet, even now, she held her breathe instead of talking. She waited, brooding, till Ninthe would speak.