.Hide.&.Seek. [closed, Samson]

[Aubrey Rosten]

[spin me 'round again and rub my eyes, this can't be happening.]

It was a lovely day for a tarot reading in the bell tower. At least, Aubrey Rosten certainly thought so.

She had had very little sleep the previous night; she had done a tarot reading and it had been quite foggy, only mentioning a young man- The Page of Swords, in her near future. She'd told herself over and over to dismiss it, but she couldn't. The rest of the spread had mentioned her insecurity, which was something she'd already known, through Reversed Strength; her past, represented by The Tower; and other things pertaining to that. The thing that shocked her the most, though, was the final outcome: The Lovers card.

She'd been doing tarot long enough to know that not all cards were to be taken literally; the Death card had proven this to her once before. Still, with the surrounding cards, it seemed as if she were going to fall in love, or at least let someone close to her, perhaps the scariest thing to happen to her, considering she had a hard time trusting people.

But how could she not? Being blind hadn't exactly made life the easiest.

She needed to investigate this news a little further, she'd decided around 4 AM. She'd go up to her typical tarot reading spot- the bell tower, she'd sit and she'd do her reading. The silence would help her focus. Perhaps she hadn't done it right last night. She knew it was best to do a tarot reading completely undistracted, in the quiet. She had been a little distracted- a pile of homework and a group of laughing girls were too close by. That must have been the reason for such a weird tarot reading, right? There was no other explanation.

She gripped her loose tarot cards in her hand (she had lost her box a while ago) and carefully walked up the stairs, as slowly as possible, gripping the banister for dear life. One false step and she'd land flat on her ass- and she had no clue who would be watching. The smell of the wool of the thick scarf over her face made it impossible to sniff out any hint of a nearby person- body odor, perfume, smoke, what have you. The only sense she could completely rely on was sound, and it was entirely possible that some person was sitting nearby reading a book or something, completely silent.

Her feet hit the floor; she could tell by the amount of space that they had that she had reached the top of the stairs successfully.

Great. Now to find the door and get into the actual bell tower. Perhaps she should've brought her stick- it helped her find what she needed, and if all else failed, she could always hit things with it in her frustration.

She paused in the middle of the hall. It felt spacious and empty, and she had no clue where she was. She didn't know how far it was for the doorway, even. Why did she insist on embarking on her own?

Oh, right: her stubborn attitude.

She shuffled her cards, preparing herself for the walk towards the archway. She entered quite easily, breathing a small sigh of relief.

She started to blindly (no pun intended) look for a proper place to sit and do her reading, when she ran into something. It wasn't strong enough to knock her over, but it did make her cards fly out of her hands. She heard them skitter across the floor. She didn't know what was worse; having just run into a person, or a column or something. With a person, there would be embarrassment, with a column, she wouldn't have anyone to help her get her cards. The contact hadn't been long enough to tell whether it was warm and fleshy like a human.

She took a deep breath, preparing to bend over and grab her cards, blood rising in her cheeks.

[/blockquote]

[Samson Jones]

"How's my luck?
But somehow I'm with you."

Thud. Flutter... ?

Samson's eyes drew tightly to a close, blocking out the short glimpse of the stair's that lay a few metres before him, as well as the petite female figure that was barring his way. He wished this rather tiresome day would hurry up and be over. Or better yet, that it had never begun to start with.

Perhaps if he closed his eyes reeeeal tight, even more so then he was already doing, he would discover a power he never knew he had, and he would be able to open them to find himself still lying under the covers of his bed up in dorm six.

But no, that was not going to happen. The feel of his clean sheets was noticeably absent, and on top of that he could still feel the barely-present-breeze. He was quite evidently not in his bed. He was going to have to open his eyes to find out who it was before him, and check whether they were ok after he had clumsily walked into them.

Slowly opening his eyes, Samson's gaze rushed down the girl's face and body - not taking much of what he was seeing in - and down to her feet. When he had bumped into this girl, he had been minimally aware of her dropping something. Now he saw that scattered between their shoes were a bunch of cards.

"Sorry," he muttered almost inaudibly as he fell to his knees. His hands moved deftly around the girls ankles, sliding the cards towards him into one pile. As the shifted around closer, he noticed that there were different pictures on them all. Normally this would intrigue him, but not right now. He was too embarrassed about running into the girl to pay much attention to these details.

Pushing the cards together into a neat pile, he rose to his feet. For the first time, Samson now looked properly at the girl who was before him, and immediately squirmed uncomfortably. If it wasn't bad enough that he had run straight into someone, he had managed to run into a girl whom - even with the scarf that covered the lower part of her face - seemed incredibly attractive to him.

Certain that his attraction must show on his face, his eyes dropped back down to the cards he was holding. Immediately his eyes took in the details of the card on top of the pile. It seemed to be an angel or something up in the clouds looking down on two nude people. How strange. He could also see that there was something written at the bottom of the card, but the word was obscured by his thumb so that all he could read was the end of the word ('--ers'), which meant nothing to him.

Holding the cards forward, Samson rose his gaze up to her blue eyes. "Here you go. Sorry about that, I can be a real klutz sometimes." He gave the girl a small smile while he waited for her to take the cards he was brandishing towards her.

[Aubrey Rosten]

[could have sworn that i locked all these windows fairly tight.]

Aubrey had definitely bumped into a person. She could feel breath on her face. Through her thick scarf, she could almost smell whoever it was.

They smelled… intriguing…

Her embarrassment almost took her attention away from her cards, her precious Rider-Waite Tarot Deck. She’d obtained it from her mother just a few years ago... a Christmas present.

“Sorry,” said the voice quietly. She was sure if she had not had slightly enhanced hearing from being blind, she wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was a male voice. Not only was he a person (which she was not used to, at all), he was a male, which she had even less experience with. She felt her cheeks burn even brighter. She must have been bright red. Perhaps she’d pass it off on the cold, the capillaries in her cheeks flushing blood closer to her skin to make her warmer.

There was a gust of air flowing downwards, and it startled her. She could only guess that he was on his knees, at her feet, arranging her cards around her. She kept her would be gaze straight ahead, sure that if it weren’t for the cards, she would have ran away a long time ago. She heard the cards brushing against the ground, and tried to imagine a boy frantically sweeping up cards on a stone floor. No such luck. She could not image what he looked like, at all.

She felt him rise. He hesitated for a moment, and she wondered for a split second if he was looking at her cards, judging her for what a freak she was for carrying them around. She wondered what card was on top. The Death card, perhaps. Or the Devil. That would be rich.

He said something to her; his voice was kind. She clumsily reached her hand forward to grasp at the cards. When she did, she brushed against the warm skin of his hand. She gasped, staggered. Her heart might have stopped- just for a moment.

Two images flashed through her mind: The blurry outline of a beautiful (there was no other way to describe him) boy’s face, and the Lovers card. No doubt the image was burned in his mind. That was the card on top.

He probably thought her a pervert.

The cards were now in her grasp, and she clutched them to her chest, almost dropping them again.

He had just accidentally shuffled the cards. If she did not reshuffle them, this next reading would be about him. Curiosity attacked her.

“Thanks,” she said lowly, her sightless eyes probing what might have been his face, glad that she couldn’t see what was obviously his alarmed expression.

[Samson Jones]

"I can't take my eyes off of you,
I can't take my eyes off you."

Samson's composure crumbled at the girl's expression and momentary loss of energy as she took her cards back from him. The naïve part of him instantly believed that it must have been something he had done. Maybe he was staring. Or perhaps he was in need of some deodorant. Heck, he wasn't even paying attention to the expression he wore, so maybe that was what had made her start like that.

Luckily, there was enough rationality in him to realise that in a school full of "freaks" (he would never say that word aloud, he hated even thinking it), the problem was more likely with her then him.

This instilled him with a deep sense of curiosity. It did not replace the awkwardness he was feeling even the smallest bit. Instead the two rode hand in hand, seeming to gather more strength from one another.

He was never this awkward around a girl, so he couldn't help but become increasingly more and more interested in her. Likewise, he didn't normally find himself this interested in someone, so he couldn't stop himself from being intimidated by her.

Perhaps revealing his nervousness even further, Samson brought his hand up, scratching just above his right brow for a short moment. Even the smile on his face must have looked forced. He was so stupid. There was no reason to act this way.

"No problem." He had wanted his voice to be strong and confident. Instead what came from his mouth was the same quiet drone that he had used for his apology.

"I-- er, you--" Mind blank. Damnit. What the hell was he doing?

He could feel his cheeks redden as her eyes moved over his face. Not only did he think that he was an idiot, but now he was sure she would believe the same thing.

With one last long glance, he mapped out her visible features - especially those beautiful, clear blue eyes - before dropping his gaze to the ground.

"Wellishouldgo. Bye." His face grew even hotter as he ran his words together, and it was almost a struggle to make his legs move, but he somehow managed it. So the next second he was stepping around her and heading down the stairs she had just come up.

He would ponder her later. Whether he wanted to or not.

[/blockquote]

[Aubrey Rosten]

[take a look at my body, look at my hands. there's so much here that i don't understand.]

Awkward. Awkward awkward awkward.

She wanted to say something, but she couldn't. Couldn't because she didn't know who it was, couldn't because she had nothing to say, save for some awkward stammering. She'd just embarrass herself by even trying.

When he spoke again, there was finally a word on her lips: 'Yes?'. She wanted to know, desperately, what he had to say, and why he stopped saying it. Was she really that weird? Did he even notice that she couldn't see? And yet, the words stayed in the back of her throat. Part of her was too embarrassed to say anything, the other part was just scared of what he would say, what they were all probably saying...

She raised her hand to wave when he said goodbye, but she had a feeling he was gone quicker than she could react. She left her hand in the air, and closed it, feeling an odd wave of anxiety and sadness wash over her.

Tarot cards. She needed to read tarot cards.

[thisthreadisfinished.]