Post by cassie on Nov 16, 2009 16:00:01 GMT -5
THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE; ~
[She looks at you a little curiously as you inquire about her name, and you assume she is wondering why you chose to initiate an interview with a perfect stranger. Well of course you do know her name, but that's beside the point. You didn't write the questions... You're just here to make sure they're answered.]
"Marley... Marley Mai Montague."
[She speaks softly and you almost miss the words, but you cannot help but notice the slight accent. And the fact there's a lot of M's in the female’s name.]
"...My mother liked alliteration".
[Oh.... Well that clears that issue up. Next question.] .
NICKNAMES; ~
[/font][/left] [She blinks slowly and then a slight frown creases her pale brow.] .
"Hm... A nickname?"
[She nibbles her lip gently.]
"...I've... I'm not sure I've ever had a nickname before... ".
[You stare incredulously at her and she stares back, though it is hard to read her smooth face and cool eyes. You end up blinking first and after making a scribbled note you move on but you cannot help but wonder about the type of teenage girl who's never had a nickname.]
MALE OR FEMALE; ~
[/font][/left] [At your words she looks a little alarmed and you notice her composure slip for the first time as her eyes widen and colour rises to her cheeks. Her fingers fly to the edge of her skirt, where she begins to toy with the lace trim. You can't help but feel a little guilty for causing such an effect with your words but it doesn't take long for the composure to be regained. There's the smoothness of her face once more. ]
"... Female.."
I AM; ~
[/font][/left] [You're rapidly getting accustomed to the fact there is a pause between your words and hers, but this one seems exceptionally long. She studies you for a moment through those large blue eyes but her lips do not move. Instead she simply looks at you and occasionally blinks and you begin to wonder if she has any intention of actually answering. You cough gently as a prompt but you only receive a sigh. The silence lapses on for a few more moments, and your just starting to feel a tad awkward when she finally decides to answer.]
"... That's tricky.."
[You want to hit your head against the desk. Is that it? She glances up at you, and then she takes a deep breath.]
"I guess you could call me a Trainer...But I don't really battle for badges because... Because I don't see the point? But... I do train Pokemon so I guess that does make me a trainer. Yes, I think that would be...Accurate."
[She looks at you a little nervously, and you smile in what you hope is a reassuring way. Obviously she's not comfortable with words and you assume that little speech took quite a deal of effort. Hence the exceptionally long pause before hand.]
HOW THE TIME FLIES; ~
[/font][/left] "Eighteen."
[The answer is supplied quickly but quietly; the word firm and precise. This is one of the first questions where she hasn't paused which is quite surprising. Perhaps because it's such a simple question? Who knows...]
GIRL IN THE MIRROR; ~
[/font][/left] [The confusion enters her eyes again, clouding the blue as she stares at you. Her head tilts slowly to the right and then she looks down at herself before lifting her head and tilting it left. Clearly she's debating something in her mind but aside from the slight shimmer in her gaze, her face is hard to read.]
"...You can see me? Surely... Surely if you can see me then... Then... Then it's a void question?"
[The words are slow and hesitant once more and you wonder if this is a lack of confidence or merely confusion. Possibly both. You explain that you’d like to hear her describe her physical appearance but your words cause a flicker of alarm to run across her face. Blue eyes widen dramatically and her lower lip falls for a moment, turning her mouth into a shocked ‘o’. You glimpse this for a second, and then she’s recovered. You notice she’s toying with the edge of her skirt again, slim fingers twisting and turning the lace trim in what you’re starting to view as a nervous trait.]
"...Oh."
[You didn’t think it was possible for a single noise to sound quite so... heart-rending. You feel guilty even asking the question, especially when you watch her close her eyes briefly obviously trying to summon the words. Really, does she have to answer? Would it be so bad to describe her without forcing her to do so? You glance down at the question sheet, and notice there are a few more complex questions that you just know the girl is going to struggle with. It will be kinder to grant a small mercy now... Time to bend the rules. You cough gently and she opens her eyes again, tilting her head curiously. You explain that you’ve changed your mind and she lifts the corner of her mouth in what you consider to be a grateful smile. Or half-smile. It’s hardly a smile at all really... You shake yourself free of these thoughts and then ask the female to stand up. She does so after a pause, rising gracefully to her feet. You make a motion with your hand and she blinks in surprise but seems to understand. Slowly she turns on the spot, arms held out and you can tell by the awkward way she poses that she doesn’t feel entirely comfortable. You study her for a moment and smile in what you hope is a comforting way as she sits down again. Now you need to write so you allow the female a few moments of silence... You’re sure she won’t mind.
She’s a small girl, tiny as the voice she uses in conversation. You couldn’t say exactly how tall she is, but if you took away the chunky boots adorning her feet she’d be a lot closer to five foot than she appears at first glance. She’s slender, but you’re not sure you’d say she was delicate. She’s not a fragile piece of glass ready to shatter at the lightest touch; she’s more like the bamboo. Thin and she’ll bend but you’re not sure if she’ll break...
You shake your head to clear your thoughts, and the tiny action catches her attention and she raises her eyes to your face for a moment before returning her attention back to the hands now folded neatly on her lap. You notice she is sat up very straight, poised neatly on the chair and so still you might mistake her for a statue at first glance. Except she notices every tiny movement, and she moves accordingly.
Of course, one of the most interesting aspects about the female is the way she dresses. You suppose it would be described as Gothic, but somehow the word just doesn't fit with her personality. It's an odd ensemble, but certainly striking. There is a strong feminine note to the clothing, with the white bow at her head and the lace trimming her skirt. The clothing is gathered close to her frame, accenting the few curves she has. Black and white appears to be her colour-scheme, and not only in her clothing. Her short crop of inky black hair contrasts vividly with the smooth white expanse of her skin. Black as ebony, white as snow... She's only a drop of blood away from being Snow White. The effect of those two colours is very striking, but the tiny female seems to make it work.... You put down the pen, signalling you've finished and immediately those eyes are back on you. You smile warmly and she smiles back, the same little twitch of her lips]
BENEATH THE SKIN; ~
[/font][/left] [You're not expecting her to say much here, and you wonder if you might have to 'bend the rules' here too. However, you ask the question and she surprises you by responding almost instantly. You blink, slightly startled but copy down her words never the less.. ]
"I'm not a very talkative person... You may have noticed?"
[You laugh softly and she gives you a hesitant smile in response before she continues.]
"I get my words... Mixed up sometimes? I mean to say one thing, but I end up saying something... Different. Wrong. It... It isn't very nice. People can be very... Cruel. It's made me think more before I speak... I hate getting it wrong! "
[Her voice becomes stronger as she nears the end of her little speech, the French accent becoming more noticeable as her tone becomes less controlled and measured. Her forehead creased into a frown, and she curls her hands into tiny fists and bows her head so you can't quite read the expression. You're a little taken aback, she hasn't shown a lot of emotion so far and it's strange to see the control slip. It's not as dramatic as the mood swings of many others, but it is the subtly of it all that makes in intriguing. Marley seems to be a very mild female but for a moment you glimpsed a flash of emotion, so carefully hidden behind the smooth exterior. She said people were cruel? You cannot help but wonder what happened to give her such an opinion, such a negative outlook on the human race. Then the sudden flash of anger, but it wasn't directed at those who she alleged to be cruel, but rather at herself. You wouldn't have taken her for the self-loathing type, but that's a little strong? One angry comment doesn't lead to self-loathing after-all... You realise you're reading far too much into such a small amount of words, and still your pen and glance back to the young woman. She releases a breath you weren't aware she'd been holding and raises her head again. Her expression is smooth and serene, and her fingers slowly uncurl to lie flat and pale against the dark material of her skirt.]
"...I apologise. It's just... I think words are very powerful and... People don't always understand this? Words can hurt people...That's not right."
[Her words are quiet again, she seems to have recovered from her earlier outburst. Though outburst is a bit of a hyperbole...You can't help but wonder what would happen if the female was ever to actually fly into a temper. You can't quite imagine it. She seems to strive to maintain this, keeping her emotions firmly under control. You haven't even seen her smile properly yet, and you absently wonder when the last time she smiled was. It's hard to imagine her giggling, or doing half the things a stereotypical eighteen year old girl does. She seems to be mature for her age, but there is also something... Something cold about her. She's not cruel, or even rude - she's been nothing less than polite throughout - but she's distant. As if she was untouchable, You frown at her for a minute, trying to peer past the smooth exterior and see the person beneath but you can't. You sigh and she raises a slender eyebrow but you brush away the silent question and resign yourself to the fact that you will never truly get beneath her skin, and you cannot help but be a little annoyed by this. You'd love to know what she was suppressing, what made her tick. After-all, everybody knows people don't hide boring things... You watch her for a few moments, and she endures your stare for a while before delicately raising an eyebrow in question. You sigh and she frowns but you've already accepted defeat on this issue and you move on... ]
J'AIME; ~
[/font][/left] [She pauses for a moment, her gaze distant as she considers her words. You allow her this, now aware how choicey she is about speech and sit patiently until she responds. Her lips twitch slightly at the corner and then she parts her lips and the words begin to flow.]
- Myths and Legends "I stumbled across the legends when I was young... Fascinating tales... Pokemon are so powerful yet so... Mysterious. They intrigue me...."
- Reading "... I prefer the written word to the spoken..."
- Exploring "I enjoy... Discovering new things. New places and people... Especially the places so unknown, where everything is... Where nothing has been spoilt."
- Pokemon "They are... Extraordinary. So varied, each unique yet... Hm. I... I train them? But I don't battle...Unless it's necessary of course."
- Quiet Places "...There is a lot to be said for peace and quiet... Or rather... Not much is said at all."
- Black Coffee "People say it's bitter... I like it though."
JE N'AIME PAS; ~
[/font][/left] [She seemed to expect this question, or at least that's the impression you get from the tiny nod she gives as you speak. Of course it is the logical follow on, and the result of this is a near instant response. Lovely.]
- Contests "I ... Don't like them, I know they are... Popular... But I want nothing to do with them.
- Rudeness "...Unintentional rudeness is bad enough but intentional... Is intolerable.
- Romance Novels "They... Paint an unrealistic view of the world..."
- Lies "I understand... Sometimes they may be the only way? But... I'd rather not be lied to."
- Mess "...I like things neat."
- Large Crowds "It's hard to hear yourself think...."
ARE YOU SCARED YET?; ~
[/font][/left] [Her eyes widen for a moment, and you cannot move your eyes from her face as once more her mask breaks and for that split second you are reminded she's not made of stone. She opens her mouth and then pauses before pressing them firmly together again. You sit in silence, and the time stretches on. You begin to wonder if she has any intention of answering. ]
"... Thunderstorms."
[She utters the single word in the smallest voice you've heard so far, and it seemed she was forcing the word out. Clearly, she didn't enjoy admitting to her fears...You write the word down and then look up, waiting for an explanation. You get nothing. Gently, you clear your throat, trying to prompt her. At the sound, she fixes you with her gaze and you lean back into your chair. That is not the mild or inquisitive stare you'd received earlier, no there is steel in her eyes now. You blink and then duck your head, desperate to avoid that cold and unwavering stare... S-so she doesn't want to elaborate, that’s... That's fine. ]
HOW I WASTE MY TIME; ~
[/font][/left] [You glance up warily as you ask the question and you're relieved to find her eyes are softer now. She considers you for a moment and then she speaks.]
"I like travelling... Exploring new places... Legends. I... I love legends and mythology it's all so... Fascinating. I enjoying reading about them and looking at artwork but the idea of meeting one... "
[She trails off with a slight smile on her face and an almost dreamy look in her eyes. She sighs softly and then glances up; She pauses for a moment and then frowns ever so slightly.]
"... I think I've already told you this.... Sorry."
YOU ASK ME WHY; ~
[/font][/left] [She tilts her head as she considers the question you've given her, her lips pursed ever so slightly.]
"Hmm..."
[Stalling for time? You wonder what she finds so difficult about this question, but you don't ask in fear the steel will enter her eyes again. Instead you sit and wait patiently; your pen poised and ready.]
"... I wouldn’t say I... Had one? ...I apologise but I cannot answer this question."
JOURNEY TO THE PAST; ~
[/font][/left] [She stares at you as you ask the question, and then blinks slowly. Her eyes stay closed for a minute, and you imagine she is gathering her thoughts together. Then suddenly, she stands up. It is a fluid movement, one moment she is sat across from you and the next she is on her feet. She walks across the room, and you follow her with your eyes. Have you offended her? Why is she walking away without saying a word. You watch in amazed silence as she approaches a bookshelf and runs a thin finger across various bindings, blue eyes flicking and she... Searches for something? What is she searching for? You are curious, but you cannot speak you are bound by the silence and it's up to her to break it. She seems to have found what she is looking for, and pulls out a heavy volume. It seems especially large in her dainty hands, as she peers carefully at the cover, running a hand gently over the cover. She stands still for a minute, and you wonder if she is even aware of your presence any more - she seems to be absorbed by the object in her hands. Then slowly she turns around and walks calmly back to her seat. She arranges her tiny frame back onto the seat and then she holds the book out to you. You take it carefully, guessing that it is is somehow important to her. But what is it? You glance at her, and Marley nods her head towards the book. You open it slowly and then blink with surprise. A photo album. She's letting you look at her photo album... But why? You're eyes are caught by the first image, a baby held by a woman with messy blonde hair and big blue eyes. You look up and find the same blue eyes watching you. So that would be... ]
"My...My mother."
[She speaks your thoughts aloud, her voice quiet. You cannot imagine her as a baby; it doesn’t fit her cold image. The idea of her pink and round and gurgling....It’s not real. If not for the pictures you might not believe it. But there are many more pictures. You take the time to look over the glossy images, watching them paint the story of her life. You watch her age, watch the fine wisps of dark hair grow until she has a ragged black bob surrounding her face. Her first steps, first ice-cream, first birthday... It’s all there and plenty more beside. You smile at the image of her sat on an Ursaring’s shoulders – her hands gripping the fur tightly but there’s a grin on her face. It’s hard to look away from that grin, showing her small white teeth minus two that are missing. She looks so young, and so happy... You turn the page and find yourself utterly amazed. Ballet?. She makes a soft sound of amusement (too gentle to be a laugh) and you look towards her. ]
"...She thought it would be a good idea."
[You deduce this ‘she’ must be her mother and wonder why she doesn’t just say that.]
"...I was... I was actually quite good? I was in the main recital.... I was a lead."
[She supplies the extra information and you nod along with her words but your eyes are on the pages, skimming across the images to find – aha. There she is. Long black hair pinned up with a few curls escaping around her face, in a beautiful white tutu fluffed with feathers and there is a sparkle that makes you think of sequins. A rendition of Swablu Lake? You stare at the image for a moment, and then turn the page. You’d love to travel back in time to visit that moment, to see the version of Marley the world used to know, but you cannot. Instead you can only turn the page and move through her life again. The images pass in blurs, everything from snapshots to formal posed photographs where she look’s bored and awkward. You cannot help but smile because that is the Marley you know, though the girl before you doesn’t have pigtails...
She’s smiling less in these photo’s the easy grin of her childhood is gone. You look at the next image, back on a stage though this scene is very different from the ballet. The blonde woman you know to be her mother is standing on the stage clutching a large bouquet of roses. Marley is stood to the side, a rather forced smile on her face and a man standing behind her, a hand resting on her shoulder. Your eyes are drawn to the man, in his neat suit with the jet black hair and darker eyes. He’s ebony and ivory and he’s wearing the same forced smile as the girl. The resemblance is undeniable – that can only be her father. The next images follow the same pattern, mother in centre stage with Marley looking on with feigned interest. Sometimes she alone, sometimes she’s with her father. You study the set for a few moments and then you look at her questioningly. Her eyes linger over the images you’ve been looking at and then she sighs softly. ]
"... She participated in Contests. She... Loved them."
[Her voice sounds almost pained as she explains, and you recall earlier she mentioned a dislike of contests. Not to mention the way she avoids talking about her mother. You frown slightly, and carefully turn the page waiting to see what the next images will tell you. You are transfixed by the photo. It takes up an entire page, large and glossy and you can tell immediately that it is an image of a special occasion. Marley is sat at the head of the table, with long dark hair falling around her. There are balloons behind her, and a cake before her. The candles give a soft haze to the image, a gentle golden glow. You decide it must be her birthday. She’s wearing a pink dress which is striking against her pale skin and the sleek curtain of raven hair. You decide she wouldn’t be too happy with the dress, and glance up her expression. You expect to find mild irritation but instead you are only met with sorrow. Her large blue eyes are filled with it, fixed on the table before her. Mouth is downturned – no attempt at a smile. You cannot tear your eyes away from her desolate expression, and when you can finally look at the physical image you only want to know why.
"... I’d... Rather not talk about it."
[She says and you part your lips but she turns her face away, giving you the view of her profile. You close your mouth again. She’s not going to talk about it, and you’ve learnt not to press the issue. Your gaze lingers on the image for a few heartbeats, and then you have to turn the page, left to wonder about that day and those sad eyes...
Her hair is gone in the next photo. It’s startling to see the long locks from the previous image gone, even though it’s a similar length to how she wears it now and there’s no reason to be shocked. Her face is still turned away and you decide not to question the sudden chance even though you’re intrigued to know. You flick through the pages idly, skimming over the images. There are fewer smiles in these photographs, and in many of them her attention is somewhere else. There’s many of her staring out of windows, or pouring over books. You cannot help but notice her mother is no longer present in any of the images, even though her sunny smile was featured often in the earlier photo’s. Strange... You take a breath, and then broach the question even though you know it won’t get you back in the female’s good graces. She inhales sharply at your words, and her tiny hands clench into fists again. You recognise the signs and stay silent, letting her get to grips with her emotions. She turns back to you and you are meet with the same steely gaze you’d taken care to avoid earlier. The silence is deafening and you find you simply cannot look away this time; you can only wait. Finally, she speaks.
"... She’s not in the photos because she wasn’t there when they were taken."
Her words are clipped and precise, and it’s the longest sentence you think you’ve heard her say. However what is the most noticeable is how cold the words are. Like shards of ice, she flings them at you and then turns away again. Clearly this is not a topic she likes talking about. You stammer out an apology and she sighs softly. Slim fingers rub lightly against her temples and her eyes close in what appears to be a rare moment of indulgence. ]
"... Sorry. I’m being very rude... It’s just... Difficult to talk about..."
[She murmurs the words and you almost miss them. Her eyes are still closed, and she takes a deep breath. Then she raises her head and judging by the poker face she’s wearing, it’s business as usual. ]
"She... She left to participate in... Contests...."
[You are surprised by the venom in her voice as she practically spits out the last word. Oh yes, she really doesn’t like them! However, her tones are restored to their usual apathy with her next words. ]
"...It was her dream....There was nothing that could come between them. So she... Left. She left me and my father. On my birthday. But we don’t... Need her...Indeed, we’re doing fine. I don’t... I don’t even miss her anymore. "
[There is a note of defiance on the last word, as if she’s daring you to challenge her words, but of course you do no such thing. Instead you just nod in what you hope is a sympathetic way and then direct your attention back to the photo’s. You no longer comment on the absence of her mother but instead seek out her father. He’s hard to find, but occasionally you can glimpse the man in his dark suit with his dark hair. His expression seems to be carved out of stone and you wonder if he is as hard to love as he seems to be. Is this where Marley get’s her coldness from? You don’t dare to ask, afraid of the girls response. Her tone was warmer when she spoke of him, and you’re certain that an insult to him will not impress her. No, it won’t impress her at all. So silently you skim through the pages, until you find an image that you never expected. Marley hugging a Growlithe. Indeed, her arms are full of fire dog and it even appears to be... Licking her face?! AND SHE’S SMILING. You wonder if this picture was taken in an alternate dimension, and you cannot help your jaw from dropping as you stare at this odd image. You hear a soft tinkling sound and glance up in confusion only to find... Is Marley...? No... Yes?! She’s... Laughing. Marley Mai Montague is laughing. Nobody at the office is going to believe you when you tell them.]
"... Prometheus.... That was the first day I got him... I rescued him. He was the runt... So the gaurds were going to.... They were going to get rid of him. I found out and I want to save him. They told me I couldn’t... When I heard this I became... Distressed. My father was alerted to this and he was... Angered? He shouted at the men and he took Prometheus from them. He told me I could keep him... If it would make me happy. So I did. I spent all my time with him... We trained a lot....He’s very strong now. "
[ You are amazed by the warmth in her words and she speaks at some length about the creature she rescued. You’ve never heard such a lilt to her voice, and as you turn the pages to study more pictures of the pair, in various locations and situations. She seems happier with the Pokemon and you decide that’s a good thing.]
"... We explore together.... He’s an Arcanine now... Look. "
[There’s a flash of light and you find yourself suddenly nose to nose with the Arcanine in question, his intelligent eyes holding your gaze captive. The air is warm now, no doubt to the heat radiating off his substantial frame. You sit frozen in your seat, not quite used to being in close proximity to something so ... Big. You clear your throat nervously, and the girl seems to understand. She murmurs something and you guess she’s speaking French because the words don’t make sense, and suddenly the Arcanine has retreated to stand beside Marley. She runs a hand over his head, and you smile at the scene while absently turning the pages of the photo album. You glance down and realise you’ve run out of photo’s. Oh... But what’s that? You notice the pages are thicker near the back and skim through the empty sheets until you reach the correct pages. You see.... Newspaper clippings. You’re eyes skim over them, looking at the big grin of the golden haired woman. Her mother. They’re all of her mother. Maybe she misses her more than she’s willing to admit....
You glance up, worried she’ll have noticed you seeing, but her attention is still on the Arcanine. You can’t help feeling a little guilty for invading in such a manner – you don’t doubt she never meant for you to see the clippings. Quietly, you close the album and she looks up at the sound and you smile at her. After a hesitating a few moments she smiles back.]
WAS THERE ANYTHING ELSE; ~
[/font][/left] [She take’s the album back from you, rises to her feet and then restores it back to the bookshelf. Then she returns and stands before you, when you only blink in confusion she arches one eyebrow and then slowly holds out a hand. You understand and stand up, brushing the creases from your clothing as you do so. You give her your hand and she claps it gently but firmly, shaking it briefly before stepping back and reasserting her personal space.]
"... It was nice speaking to you. "
[She says quietly, and then leads you towards the door, holding it open for you. You glance back over your shoulder, your glance momentarily caught by the wise brown eyes of the Arcanine, before leaving the room. One last smile and then the door closes, letting Marley return to her quiet place again...]
A PROXY FOR; ~
[/font][/left] Cassie!! <3 .[/center][/font]
