When Will My Life Begin? (open)

[Rosetta]

Luca Bennu Stentori

On contrary to his previous belief that Zell would be annoyed at Luca’s forwardness against those men, she looked positively horrified and upset. Her voice came out a squeal, rising into the calm air, only broken by the distant shouts of those celebrating. "Oh, no! Don't apologize! I mean... I'm not really sure what went on back there, but I think you might have saved my life or something. Mom always said that there were ruffians and thugs out there and that's why I shouldn't go out. I guess she was right."

Saved her life? All he’d done was step between her and a drunk. Didn’t she know there were more life-threatening things out there than a tipsy man and a beer bottle? Luca had neither the time nor strength to even roll his eyes as his arm gave another pang of pain. Blood was swirling down his arms, and dripping to the concrete at his elbow. The pain reached down deep, and stung as he moved his hand away. The air hit the open wound, and sunk into it. Luca sucked on his cheek, but refused to cry. He hadn’t been paying much attention to Zell until he heard the rip.

Then, cool fabric was being pressed up against the injury. His eyebrows shot up and through the darkness, he could just make out the fact that she’d tore off a part of her lovely dress. Instantly feeling bad, he watched as she tied it tightly, but did not stop her. It was ripped anyway, what else to do but put it to good use. "I'm afraid that'll only help for so long. Come on, I've got stuff we can patch your arm up with back at my apartment."

Her apartment? Luca knew he’d treaded too far into the danger zone by letting her lead him away. Inviting her onto his boat was one thing, but going back to her apartment? Things were getting out of hand quickly, slipping away like sand or his blood, but Luca hardly lifted a finger. One would wonder why not, why he didn’t stop her, turn back, and go home. Back to his sickly mistress, and her purple obsession, and Yvonne, and slavery. Why did he let Zell whisk him away? At the time, Luca did not know himself. That thing that had possessed him subdued him now, letting him bask in the aching pain, and the satisfying knowledge that finally someone was going to take care of him.

Her building lacked the grandeur most of the Capitol buildings had, but Luca didn’t mind at all. It had a sort of homey feel to it. He could see Zell’s eyes darting around, anxiously, and her stared at her, bemused. His foot hastened to wipe up the blood droplets splashing onto the linoleum, but only left smears. It came a relief when they finally made it to the elevator of the desolate lobby, and Zell punched in a number. The girl’s narrow back pressed itself against the wall, and gave him a smile that could not mask her uneasiness.

"Well, this has certainly been an adventure."

Adventure, Zell? You think this has been all fun and games, haven’t you?

His sudden annoyance with her surprised him, and he forced it down, underneath his agony. Pain was blossoming through his body, from his leg, to his arm, to his back. There was no escape from it, but Luca hid it, cleverly. He wouldn’t let Zell know. As soon as the elevator opened, she hustled him into her apartment. It was clearly extremely tiny, but it had a cheery feel to it with the bright pottery lining the walls. Luca hadn’t even known she was into anything other than fashion.

He collapsed into a chair in her kitchen. It creaked under him, but he didn’t mind at all. Blood was still gushing. Zell disappeared for a moment, and he could hear her rustling around a bit, before she hastened back in, arms full of medicines, it appeared. Luca had never had any experience with the Capitol medicine that was almost like magic. However, as an Avox, his wounds were ignored, laughed it, wrapped up loosely with dirty rags. Hence the reason the scars on his back stood out so prominently.

"Okay, let's get a look at what we're dealing with,"

Luca sensed the false smile plastered across her face, but, it fell away instantly as soon as she’d pulled away the dressings. Blood burst forth, drawing tears from Zell’s eyes. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I didn't - Oh, wait!"

She’d seen something across the table, and lunged for it. Luca’s eyebrows shot up as she brought back as small tube. "Derma glue! They used this stuff when I fell through a glass table and cut my foot open. I had the scar removed a bit later, but the cut was about as deep as the one on your arm, so it should work perfectly!"

Eyeing the tube, sudden distrust of the Capitol medicine welled up inside of him. When he’d gotten hurt back in District 4, his mother was always ready with fish oil. In his mother’s mind, fish oil cured everything. When his leg had been crushed underneath the anchor, she’d forced cups of it into his protesting mouth. She was the one to press cool towels onto his head when he had a fever, and patch up his scraped knees, and elbows. In the Capitol, that role had been replaced by Luca. He had to learn to fend for himself. He was the one to patch up the cuts, and attempt the soothe his legs, and the lash marks on his back. He didn’t have his mother’s soft touch, and he dearly missed it, missed it so it brought tears to his eyes every time he thought about it, but he still knew how to take care of his body. So, when Zell said, "I know I'm not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination. But do you trust me?" Luca had no reason to let her do this herself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Well, trust had grown from the short time they’d known each other, but it was nothing compared to the truth Luca had had with his mother, his father, Velia…He gently slipped the glue from out of her fingers, and gave her a grateful look.

It’s not that I don’t trust you, Zell, I’d just rather do this myself.

He sloppily piled the substance all around the wound, but it was satisfactory. His good hand groped around the table for gauze and when he found it, he wrapped the wound as tightly as possible with the wrong hand. He glanced up at Zell then. The girl had certainly gone through a lot, hadn’t she? He pitied her, having witnessed this much, and it all being his fault. Poor girl. It’s going to be alright, he mentally told her, but being unable to talk, of course, Luca decided sending her a physical signal would benefit them more. Reassuringly, he reached for her, clasping her hand in his own.

It’ll be alright, Zell, I promise.

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[Deleted]

I am outside
And I've been waiting for the sun
And with my wide eyes
I've seen worlds that don't belong

Zell hated herself for it just a bit, but she was actually rather glad when he took patching up the wound into his own hands. Zell was fine with patching up her own bumps and bruises, consequences of her incorrigible clumsiness, but when it came to healing deep lacerations, and on someone else for that matter, she couldn't deny that the prospect made her a little squeamish. Eyeing Luca's actions anxiously, she fluttered around the kitchen without any real aim, the combination of her hair and the floaty fabric of her torn dress making her look like a little blonde-and-pink-feathered bird. Zell began hovering nearer to the table as he began wrapping the cut, the bleeding seemingly staunched.

Perhaps she appeared more traumatized than she'd initially thought (she'd be the first to admit that blood gave her the creeps) , because the look of concern and maybe even a hint of pity on Luca's face when he looked up at her seemed thoroughly out of place to the petite blonde. Shouldn't she be the one concerned for him, since he'd gotten terribly hurt for her sake? The role reversal hardly seemed right, but the confusion left her mind along with everything else the moment he reached out and spontaneously clasped her hand in his.

Zell didn't bother fighting the bright pink flush that crept over her cheekbones or the warm smile that worked its way across her face of its own accord (she was like this with everyone, right? This came from being sheltered, right? She was just thrilled to have any human contact... right?). His hand was rough in contrast to her perfectly-manicured one, the difference indicating the gap between their lifestyles more effectively than any words could. But there was a steadiness in the contact in which Zell took comfort, a sort of stable warmth that made her grin even more widely and squeeze his hand in return. There was something about the moment that gave her an inherent sense of everything's going to be all right, putting her far more at ease than she'd been for a while.

"Um..." she started, purplepink eyes fixing themselves on a particularly interesting spot on the wallpaper."Are you hungry? Because I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving, Lana made me stay through my lunch break to clean up that fabric I knocked over. Do you mind if I eat? You can have something if you like."

Her eyes widened at yet another unintentional breach of etiquette. The poor boy was an Avox, what if he didn't eat like normal people? After all, she imagined that eating with no tongue would be rather difficult, not to mention the awful fact that you couldn't even taste what you were eating. For someone like Zell, who'd always been a lover of fine cuisine, that sort of fate seemed even worse than losing the power of speech, but maybe that was because she had never been all that eloquent and her words had never meant much in the grand scheme of things at all.

"I mean... I, um..." Zell stuttered, trying to backpedal into a hospitable request that would be a little more socially acceptable. It was then that she realized that her hand was still in his, but she found herself not making any effort to pull away. There really wasn't anything she could say to repair whatever damage had already been done, so she resigned herself to a momentary period of painfully awkward silence that was soon punctuated by a very audible growl of her stomach. "I really am hungry, though. Be right back."

She finally pulled her hand away, shuffling off towards a small computerized contraption in the wall as the torn skirt of her dress swished around her knees in soft chiffon whispers. Poking arbitrarily at the machine's touch screen, Zell began to scroll through a limited amount of meal selections. While she didn't have the best food delivery system in the Capitol (she'd heard about apartments with systems where you could name anything on earth and receive it in the blink of an eye), it did its job well enough. Pink-nailed fingers tapped selections for a grilled cheese sandwich, french fries, and a glass of cola. As an afterthought, she went ahead and pressed a command for a cup of coffee as well, hitting a spot on the screen that marked her order complete. After a few seconds of waiting, the machine beeped, a panel sliding back to reveal a plate of piping hot food along with the soda and coffee.

Zell did her best to balance the items all at once, setting her own food on the table before gently putting the cup of coffee down in front of Luca. "Here, I thought... I thought you could use something to warm you up since it's so cold out."

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[Rosetta]

Luca could feel the awkwardness rising hot in the air once he touched her hand. But, she didn’t pull away. She held on, and didn’t seem to want to pull away. As shocked as Luca was at himself, it didn‘t compare to his surprise at nervous Zell. Why wasn‘t she doing anything? Come to think of it, why wasn‘t he doing anything? "Um...Are you hungry? Because I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving, Lana made me stay through my lunch break to clean up that fabric I knocked over. Do you mind if I eat? You can have something if you like," she told him, and instantly, her bright eyes widened in horror at her words. Poor girl, Luca thought, always thinking she’d said the wrong thing. Her lack of confidence and consistently in herself slightly irked Luca, but he figured that might be the downside to all Capitolites in the face of an Avox, unless they were trying to be cruel. They don’t know how to act. They didn’t even see him as a human, he wasn’t anything to them. An animal, something to do their biding. That’s all he was, and that was all he’d ever be.

Still, as far as food went, Luca just dealt with it. He couldn’t taste it, and it always managed to become a dry mush in his mouth from the little of saliva. Swallowing was also tough. So, Luca and the other Avoxes had taken to drinking fluids mostly, and eating soft foods. Although he was hungry, and his growling stomach proved that, Luca shook his head at her. No, I’m not hungry. Thanks.

"I mean... I, um..." Luca watched as the poor girl stuttered out words she’d obviously hadn’t thought through enough. "I really am hungry, though. Be right back." The warmth of her hand left his as she got up, and left, moving into the next room. Luca wasn’t sure for a moment whether to follow her or not. Something about watching her go unsettled him for a moment, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. His eyes traveled at leisure about her apartment. It was comfortable, much nicer than Magic’s home, which Luca found too elegant, too cold, and too uninviting. This apartment had a homey feel to it, just like District 4. Their house hadn’t been too big, or too grand. A simple little house with a porch right by the ocean. As a child, it gave him great joy to sit next to his father on the porch and watch the setting sun reflect itself off of the rippling waves.

He looked up, startled out of him memories, as Zell edged into the room, setting sweet smelling food down. The scents made Luca wrinkle his nose, and his stomach jabbed at him, painfully, not because he was hungry. Because he wished so much, to taste it, run his tongue over this food, soak it in. But that would never be possible. "Here, I thought... I thought you could use something to warm you up since it's so cold out,” Zell said of the coffee sitting in front of Luca.

I’ll keep you warm, Zell.

The thought burst forth into his mind before he knew it, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at himself. Gosh, no, no, no, he thought, told himself, remembering what his head had always promised Velia. He quickly picked up the coffee to sip it, to hide his mistake, his expression, but he didn’t take time to notice the rising steam over the cup. The coffee seared his throat, and he, hastily, choked it back up, spraying coffee all over Zell.

Heat rising to his face, Luca stood up, swiftly, knocking into the table, upsetting his coffee mug once more. Frantically, embarrassed out of his mind, he grabbed a handful of napkins from the table and reached over the wood for Zell, apologetically wiping the coffee from her face. After a few pats, he came to his senses and realized what he was doing. For pete’s sake, Luca! He, gently, and as quick as possible, curved the napkin away from her cheek, and under her face, under her chin. But, something held him there, not willing to let go yet.

Just my servant instincts, he told himself, nothing more. I’m just a servant. A slave. I’m only doing what I’m supposed to do…only what I’m supposed to do.

(Fail post. Sorry, I think I power-played a bit, so tell me if you want me to change it. Congrats on graduating!)

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[Deleted]

Tell me where our time went
And if it was time well spent
Just don't let me fall asleep
Feeling empty again

As many things as Zell had been experiencing on this unpredictable evening, the last thing she expected to encounter was a considerable amount of coffee to the face. The fledgling designer honestly was more concerned about the well-being of her already ruined dress, inwardly groaning in dismay when she noticed that the baby pink fabric had been besmirched by slowly blooming blossoms of tan liquid. Mumbling incoherently under her breath, Zell reached over to grab a handful of napkins only to find out that the job had already been done for her, accomplished by a certain dark-haired companion wearing a highly embarrassed expression on his face.

The somewhat scratchy feeling of a napkin pressing unexpectedly against her cheek was enough to throw her off balance for a few seconds, prompting much confused blinking of artificially glimmering magenta orbs and half-verbalized words that didn’t make much sense at all. Zell’s grip on reality had always been fragile at best, but after the night’s stresses and adventures it really didn’t take much more than an unexpected dousing in hot beverage to send her into a slack-jawed stupor. Still, the look on Luca’s face was all it took to snap her out of it, wide eyes studying him intently as he continued to blot the coffee from her pale visage.

She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. However, Zell was more than aware of the fact that there were certain people in the world that took pity as more of an insult than a comfort, and she got the distinctive impression that Luca Stentori was one of those people. So she tried her best to keep her sympathy to herself, standing still and allowing him to gently dab the remainder of the liquid from her face. Still, there was something in his eyes, a genuine concern that made something tighten in her throat, not allowing her to understand exactly what it was until it burst forth as giddy laughter that seemed to shimmer in the previously heavy air.

Perhaps it was just a subconscious way of releasing all the pent-up emotional pressure brought on by the rush of events that the night had laid unexpectedly on her fragile shoulders, but Zell found herself completely unable to stop giggling, incapacitated with mirth to the point that she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, gasping for air but unable to get an adequate supply to fuel increasingly hysterical cackling. After a few moments she finally lapsed into silence, wiping haphazardly at the salty streaks on her cheeks left by tears of laughter. Zell heaved a heavy sigh before glancing back at Luca and beginning to chortle again, although she could control it somewhat better this time. “After everything we’ve been through tonight, you’re worried about a little coffee?”

She stood up, pushing the chair back into its rightful place before picking up a few more napkins and blotting at small puddles of coffee on the table’s surface. “Sorry, I don’t know why I was laughing. It’s not even that funny. But seriously, don’t worry about it. Worse things have happened. Like this one time right after I had cosmetic surge on my eyes, I tripped over a coffee table because I couldn’t see, and I spilled cherry limeade all over my mother’s favorite white rug. It was everywhere, and the stain never would come out. I think we still have that rug in a closet somewhere…”

Zell’s reverie faded on another, decidedly half-hearted giggle that was tinted with a noticeable dose of nostalgia as she wiped up the last of the coffee and wadded up the napkins in her hand, shuffling over to toss them in the trash. On her way back to the table she caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror that hung in the hallway, and she crossed over to the polished glass, wiping away some of the makeup that had smeared over the course of the evening. Bright (too bright to be normal, really) purplepink orbs glittered back at her and she looked into them speculatively, recalling the recently discussed story of the cherry limeade debacle.

“They used to be this horrible, dull green, you know,” the blonde murmured quietly, wiping at some smudged mascara with her fingertip. “But I liked them. They were different. Everyone else my age was surging and getting all kinds of weird colors, but mine were natural, and it made me unique. But Mom said that I had to at least get something done, or what kind of stylist’s daughter would I be? She was afraid I’d turn into one of those naturalist people who never get any sort of modification done. But I don’t see what’s so bad about them. What’s wrong with liking the way you look and not wanting to change it?”

She sputtered to a halt, realizing that she had delved into something that she didn’t even like to think about, much less discuss: her past. Zell liked to think that she was a happy person, all sunshine smiles and carefree laughs, but the fact of the matter was that happiness came easily when you were skilled at suppressing everything negative that had ever happened in your life (controlling parents, unwanted surgeries, time after time after time of stalwart refusal to let you spread your wings and soar into the unknown). Her effort to cover her lapse in judgement was considerably shaky, the smile only watery and really more of a close-lipped half-grin. “But that’s probably so boring for you to hear about. Cosmetics and social taboos and teen angst. Bet you didn’t expect to hear all of that just because of a little coffee spill. I can’t keep my mouth shut, I’m sorry.”