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[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The little boy's smile only brightened at her laugh. It sounded off, much like her smile had been off, but Eric hardly noticed. He has gotten her to laugh, and that thrilled him more than having somehow been strong enough to make the journey up here. Had Eric noticed the little grimace, he would have demanded that she tell him what was wrong, made sure his newest little friend was all right. Despite his frail state, he seemed to want to try and both protect her and make her giggle, laugh, smile, anything that showed happiness. She had been the first person here who was a patient and had been kind to him. He wanted to make sure he kept that happiness because if he did, if he made her happy, if he didn't do anything wrong, she would stay.

"The sky is blue," he began, looking up through the tree branches to look at the patches of sky above him. It was a very light, bright blue and very beautiful. "The light is shining really bright today which probably why it's so warm. But the tree is only just starting to lose its leaves, so most of them are still really bright green with only a few red and brown ones around. There's also lots of shade." He turned his head towards the strawberry blonde again with a raised eyebrow. "Does that come up with a clear picture in your head?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Morgan pursed her lips a little, and sat for a moment with her eyes staring forward. She was trying to ponder just exactly what every word Eric had said meant. Blue. What colour was the sky? What did blue even look like? She knew her eyes were blue, and the nurses often told her that she looked good in blue, but what was blue? Green. She knew the smell of green, the smell of fresh-cut grass and leaves and vegetables. Red and brown. What did any of these colours look like? For the first time in a long time, Morgan began to wonder how differently the world would be if she could see.

But she didn’t express such a feeling to Eric. Instead, Morgan tried her hardest to picture the scene Eric was describing. It proved more difficult than she could imagine.

The little strawberry blonde shrugged, though, and nodded a little. “I think so. It sounds like it’s really pretty.” Her voice was still quiet, still distant, but even a little brighter. The fact that Eric hadn’t questioned her further, hadn’t doubted her when she said she was fine… well, that meant a lot to the little girl. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Eric pushing her for answers that she couldn’t give. That thought alone brightened her more and more.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Luckily for Morgan, Eric did not have vast knowledge of the blind (his knowledge in general was rather minimal) and did not know that people could be born blind or how. He assumes that Morgan knew what the colors he had mentioned looked like, maybe thinking she had lost her sight at some point during her lifetime rather than right at birth. That was why the small Jacobsen boy did not ask his friend all the pressing questions she was grateful he was not asking.

"It is," he agreed with a large nod, smiling brightly. He thought he had done well in explaining the world around them to the girl who saw nothing of it. He let himself sit in the glow of self-praise for a moment or so before curiosity came to him as it does with many small children his age. "Tell me, how do you know how to get around and stuff if you can't see?" If he simply walked around with his eyes closed (since meeting the little blind girl he had been doing so often to help empathize with her) then he would bump into everyone and everything. Getting around was an impossibility and he didn't understand how Morgan could do it.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Morgan gave a rather small, amused smile to Eric, and she offered a shrug. "I really don't know. I guess I've just been here so long that--"

Morgan cut off with a little wince, and looked down at her side. It seemed that the bandage had slipped and irritated the wound, as pressing her hand to her side revealed red. Lucky she was wearing dark colours so that it didn't bleed through, but even so the side felt wet. She took in a shaky breath an in an instant remembered where she was.

She tried to keep talking and play it off as nothing, of course. She kept her tiny hand pressed against her side. "That I've gotten used to how the asylum works. I know it in my head." Her words were a little shakier, now, and she could only pray in vain that Eric hadn't noticed.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Eric wasn't blind, nor was he deaf. He saw the little grimace she had made, noticed the way she was holding her side, and heard the shakiness in her voice. Even the little food boy knew something was wrong with his friend now, and he couldn't let it slide. His face pulled down into a worried frown as she leaned just slightly closer to the blind girl.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his tone matching the worried expression he wore perfectly. He reached out to touch the hand on her side then thought better of it. He didn't want to scare his friend (how was he to know if she could sense how close he was?) and he also couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten or what it was. He had blacked out a few days before (yet another reason for the doctors to not want him to go) and sometimes they forced him to eat when his mind was all fuzzy and he couldn't remember things well. Obviously something was hurting Morgan, and if he saw why it was, or worse, touched it, he was afraid that Bad Food would start to stir inside of him. Usually he could feel the Food's presence, but he hadn't and that didn't mean that it wasn't around, especially with the medicine he'd taken. The Jacobsen boy wasn't taking any chances, he didn't wan to ruin his friendship. "What's wrong?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Morgan shook her head, and kept her hand pressed tight against her side. She had seen it, just a flash of the red blood staining her hand, and she didn't exactly want to let Eric see. And so her hand stayed in place. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." But that, too, was a hopeless argument, and even Morgan could see that she couldn't lie about it. But she also couldn't tell him about Raven. She didn't want to... She didn't want to have to see that side of Raven again. "I'm fine, I promise. Don't worry about it." Oh, how good she had gotten at lying! Just two years ago (years, oh goodness) Morgan would have rather died than told a lie. And now that seemed it was all she was doing.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[She had seen it? LOL]

The frown now only deepened, and Eric looked older than a small and innocent eight-year-old. He looked like a very concerned boy about to reach the world of a teenager, and his gaunt features only helped him there. "Are you sure, Morgan? You don't look like you're all right. You look like you're in pain." Immediately he thought of how he could help. Could he make a dash to the infirmary for help? Obviously not. He was in no shape for such a thing, and Morgan would surely outrun and stop him. He supposed he could aide her himself, though he didn't know much about medical care. Though, Morgan couldn't see what it was that hurt her, she didn't know how bad or disconcerning whatever could be paining her was. If he could see, he could decided and the heck with his potential danger with food he didn't know if he'd eaten or not.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

[SHIT. FORGOT SHE WAS BLIND.]

Her hand was sticky, now, and Morgan could only hope that the red liquid wasn't bleeding through her fingers. She of course had no way of knowing, that is, unless Eric made an outburst of the blood, and she could only hope he didn't. For once, the girl was praying and praying hard. "Eric, I said I was fine. Don't worry about me, okay? Please?" And all at once, her expression was heart-breaking. Pleading. Begging for him to somehow silently know what had happened, but at the same time hoping he didn't at all. Oh, how the girl was conflicted!

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

And Eric, being the worried boy that he was (and although he didn't know it, he was starting to grow attached to the blind girl), fell hard for that look. He just wanted to pat the girl on the shoulder, or hug her to death. He felt bad for her, there was obviously something wrong and she obviously wasn't going to talk. He knew a lot about that, having both seen it for himself on his parents' faces and having felt it himself during the time before the divorce (in his head the word was an ugly looking word in gross text, all black and dripping like tar or oil). Then his eyes went downcast, simply for his eyes to roam from that sad face, and those hazel wyes widened in shock. "But, Morgan," he argued as he grabbed her hand, sticky as it was, and put it in his, the bloody palm facing him. "You're bleeding!"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Oh god.

There was no lying now. Had it really just been last night? Last night that she was a snivelling, crying mess in her mother's caressing arms? It must have been, because in an instant Morgan was crying again and her arms had been thrown around Eric's neck. It was at this point that her blood-stained shirt could be felt, smelled, and even seen. The red began to form a line on her side, a thick one that ran the length of her wound. And it hurt, and with every sob it hurt more, but Morgan couldn't help herself.

She had known the boy for less than two weeks and she was crying in his arms. God,, she was a mess. He had made her a mess. His fault.

Morgan said nothing in response. She buried her tears in his shoulder and her shaking form was pressed up against him. She couldn't speak; every time she tried, a sob overcame her. An emotional train wreck.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The poor boy that could talk to food had no clue what to do. At his house, he was the one that could cry and be comforted, he was not used to being the one who needed to comfort. Still, this was his new friend, a friend he so badly wanted to keep, so he dug into his memory and tried to remember how it was that his mother had always comforted him when he cried, which was usually after he heard her and his dad fight, or someone said the word divorce, or anything else to do with that particular situation.

First off, she always gave him a big hug, so that's what it was that Eric did. He wrapped his little arms around her little body, although his tummy felt ishy, like he was going to vomit (not that there was anything to vomit) from the overwhelming smell of blood. It scared him, too, because that part of his brain that told him how good the Bad Food tasted, how fun it was to hurt people, that part of him loved the smell of blood, wanted to breathe it in, to play in it, to lick it. Eric fought back strongly. He would not lose a friend like that again.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan," he said quietly, and he felt horrible. He felt like it was his fault, he was the reason she was crying, he had done something to make her upset, and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want to make anyone upset, especially not his friend. "Morgan, I'm sorry, don't cry, please, I'm sorry."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

And that just made her cry even more. Here she was, crying on his shoulder and making him take care of her. Poor thing was such a mess. The trauma of the previous night had done no good to the poor little blind girl; if anything, it made get increasingly worse.

But instead of backing away, Morgan tightened her arms around Eric's neck and brought about another set of sobs. It took a good six or seven minutes for her to calm herself down, and little by little she began waning out of the mess she was in.

"It's not your fault," she murmured against his neck. The tears were quiet now, those shaky breaths a child gets after they have been crying for a long time. And yet Morgan didn't untangle herself from Eric, not yet. If she did he would question her, and she couldn't handle that right now.

God, she was such a mess! What was the matter with her? She was better then this...

But very obviously, she wasn't.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

During those long and rather awkward seven minutes, the Jacobsen boy held her close, trying hard to ignore the flow of blood that was leaking onto his side. He patted her back in slow circles, unknowingly fatherly-like (perhaps to replace the replacement father who was missing even for a moment) and smoothed down her loose curls. He in fact was trying hard not to cry himself. He felt so bad for the girl, he felt like he had brought it upon her, and just like her good mood and giggles, her bad moods and sobs were just as contagious.

"Yes it is," he argued miserably into her shoulder. He was now the one fighting off tears and he was glad that she hadn't pulled back because it was embarrassing to cry in front of girls. Guys didn't do that sort of stuff in front of girls. "You told me not to ask and I did, now I made you feel bad. I'm real sorry, Morgan. I didn't mean to make you cry."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

"No, it's not, really... It's just...." Morgan stopped at this, stopping to choke back her own tears. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her lip was quivering. Her entire form was shaking. "A lot happened last night. I'm not exactly better yet." She could feel Eric trying to hold back tears and she pulled him closer and hugged him tighter. Her side hurt and her head was pounding and her throat was raw, but Morgan still had to concern herself over Eric. "No, no, don't cry." She hugged him even tighter, then, and pressed her face into his shoulder. "Don't cry, Eric. Please."

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Even that vague description of her traumatic experience had been a lot for her to say out loud, he was sure, and he was proud of her for saying so. He figured it must have been bad if she was still so sad about it like it had just happened. Slowly, he began to pat her back again.

"I'm fine," he assured with a quick blink, forcing most of the tears away. He just felt so bad for her, and she was acting so upset, Eric was ready to cry just from watching her cry and seeing her sad. It was a very unpleasant sight to see, an unsettling one that did nothing but want to make him cry. "It's you I'm worried about, champ." That had been one of his dad's sayings. He'd said it a lot before he had to move here, right before and right after the divorce because he had always been so sad at that time and his dad always wanted to help him out. Eric was really starting to miss his dad, and his mom, but now wasn't the time to be homesick. He had Morgan to worry about.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

((D'aww c: I found our cute.))

Morgan sniffed a little, but she pulled back and even cracked a smile. She laughed a shaky, post-crying laugh and wiped the few tears off of Eric's cheeks with her thumb. "I'm sorry I made you sad, Eric." She tried to smile through it, and though it was small, it was entirely genuine. As was her little twitter of laughter. Just one little chirp seemed to brighten her entire composure. "And I'm sorry for probably getting blood everywhere." The little blind girl kept her arms around Eric's neck, but she was leaning back so that she didn't have to talk into his neck. "And thank you for letting me cry." Morgan wasn't about to forget her manners, and she offered another smile to the boy with her words.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[Right?]

"I'm the one that made you cry," he told her with a little squeeze to her side. His arms, too, stayed wrapped around her middle, not so tight so that they could have a conversation. "It was my fault that we were sad." He gave a little nervous laugh to her comment, looking down at his lightly colored shirt and khaki shorts with a little sigh. Covered in blood, and somehow it was still his fault though he didn't physically harm her. "It's okay, as long as it comes out and the nurses don't get upset we'll be okay." He offered her a bright smile in return to her small one and her chirp. His smile was just as genuine, wide only because she had stopped crying. If she stopped crying, then they would be okay and they could have fun. "Are you okay, though?" He asked with one tilt of his head to the left. He wanted to make sure there wasn't anything else bother her. He knew it could be a crummy feeling to walk around still feeling sad.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

She nodded, strawberry-blonde curls bouncing as she did so. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll get over it." I'm a big girl. I have to get over it. But of course Morgan didn't say that out loud. She was okay, that much was true. She wasn't going to burst into tears at a moments notice again. Thankfully, Morgan was okay. A little bloody, but okay nonetheless.

She pulled Eric into another hug, and pressed a rather swift little kiss to his cheek. Affectionate. Childish. Innocent. Probably the only ounce of innocence left in the girl. "Thank you," she said quietly as she squeezed him tight in a hug. She had an actual smile on her lips. This boy, this boy who she knew nothing about, was the only male in her life so far who hadn't entirely ruined her. And for that, she was grateful.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The little kiss made the little boy blush, and for once, he was glad that Morgan couldn't see. It would be embarrassing for her to see him flush such a violently red color. "You're welcome," he told her with a small smile, returning her hug with a tight squeeze, his chin resting on her small little shoulder. He didn't know just how grateful he was to her and why, and if he did he probably would have blushed further. He didn't think of himself as something that deeply important to someone, and knowing that he was would just make him sheepish. In his eyes, he was only trying to help a friend out. "I'll help anytime, with anything," he reminded her with a little crooked smile of shyness, of sheepishness rather. He knew it was good to help people out, it was just so out of his comfort zone to be hugging and comforting a crying, bleeding girl. It was definitely strange.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

[Cuuute. Shall we fade? I have nothing more to say.]

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[All right.]

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

In the summer, he had been told, the peach tree was by far the prettiest spot in the whole asylum. Lush and green and falling with fruit (which was edible as long as you were careful) and quiet, too, usually, because only low-security patients were technically allowed behind the short fence--though the staff did not enforce this rule all too fiercely despite what they were told to do. The peach tree was the one spot in the whole place where patients could actually see some life; why not afford it to them? Now, though, in the middle of winter, young Jacob figured he did not have to worry about being stumbled upon by anyone too dangerous. It was chilly out, as it was wont to be this far north, and he as far as he could see the only patient out on the grounds. Most of the others were inside, unused to the harsh cold of winters at the asylum, according to the nurse who had let him out. But he didn't mind, not in the least. It was oddly...peaceful out here, sitting out beneath the tree and writing in his journal, despite the harsh clacking and clicking of dead, spindly branches above his head. It reminded him of winters back home, that sound; he found it to be comforting. His blond head was bent studiously over his journal, and his pen moved busily across the page.

I wouldn't usually talk about people I've met after I died in here--that's not really the point of keeping this whole thing, really. But I don't know; something about the girl I found down in the basement a few days ago reminded me of someone. Someone my mother Before liked to talk about, the daughter of one of her friends in Poland. Lori was the girl's name. She was seven, and Jewish too--that's a difference, there, the little girl I met didn't even know what a Jew was--and just a little bit naïve, just like the blind girl had been. Her name was Morgan, and she seemed...old for her age, somehow. Worried about something. Like people always tell me I am...

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The cracking of dead branches above the blonde came from the figure who had decided to go nesting in the peach tree. Not to get away from the people at the asylum, no. This girl craved people's attention and would be nothing without it. To her, it was more important than breathing. No, the green-eyed girl was waiting for a patient to come along. It was always interesting to see who would come around to places not suitable to the human body, like the biting cold of the Maine weather. It was only December, and Akantha knew from experience that the winter would get worse as the months went on, but it was still harsh even now. Still, the cold weather didn't prevent this vain girl from dressing in the slimmest of clothes she could withstand. Today it was a tight and low cut long sleeved floral shirt made of a thick, flannel-like material that was easily labeled as 'too revealing' the way it rode up on her stomach and set on her chest. She wore a pair of pink leggings questionably fitting and a pair of boots to complete the lack of an ensemble. When she looked down and saw the blonde boy, her bright pink lips pulled back in a large and devious smirk. Perhaps was time for a little game to get the day going.

"You know, sweetcheeks, you should make sure you properly look around at your surroundings before shoving your face in that boom of yours. What if I were a deadly killer just waiting for my next patient to sink my knife into?" With seemingly flawless grace the brunette jumped down from a lower branch and landed on the powder-y snow with a small thud beside the blonde Jew.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Jacob gave no reaction--other than to snap the book shut with a quickness that meant he would have started, had he not had something else to put the energy into. As it was, he remained still for a moment--always better to collect oneself before acting--and then slowly raised his head to regard the smirking figure looking down at him with thoughtful gray eyes. "You know," he said, and his voice was quite steady despite the scare he'd just been given (he'd had a lot of practice at keeping it that way, after all), "I guess I would be worried about that--especially now--if you hadn't called me sweetcheeks. Killers don't usually go for that kind of nickname." He raised one eyebrow, as if challenging the girl when, in reality, he was simply stating what he knew to be fact. For the last six months of his short life he had been forced to become very intimate with a killer, and never had he been addressed using such a casual name as that. So the young boy was not worried; not at all, even as he sat his journal next to him on the soft snow to keep the words enclosed within from prying eyes, just as a precaution. Better to be safe than sorry, of course, but it seemed rather obvious to him that this stranger was more worried about her looks than anything else--why else would she dress in such a...inappropriate way during the wintertime? No, Jacob did not think (at least for the moment) that he had much to fear, despite the girl's boldness.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Akantha scoffed haughtily, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her loose locks out of her face with a quick flick of her head from each side. "I didn't say I was, did I?" She inquired as she plopped down next to the boy with the journal and immediately crossed her ankles. A very lady-like gesture quite unlike the green-eyed girl. "No," she said, answering her own question in a smug tone. "I said 'what if I was a killer'. That doesn't mean that I am. Of course," she paused, pursing her bright pink lips in a thoughtful way that if anyone knew her, would know was false. "A killer could play the flirting game with a little pet name like that." She turned her head and batted her eyelashes pointedly at the boy. "It all just depends on their preferred approach."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Flirting?" Jacob repeated, a bit of incredulousness seeping into his tone. "You're going to flirt with a dead twelve-year-old?" The eyebrow rose just a little higher. "That's pretty strange. Especially for a girl who doesn't even look old enough to legally buy beer." The young boy was actually rather surprised at himself--such sass and sarcasm was virtually unheard of, coming from him. But the haughty girl had decided to disturb him at a rather private time, and he didn't see the point in trying to be polite with a girl who he could tell, only after having heard her say less than half a dozen sentences, would just laugh at him and throw it back in his face. Besides, she was passively-aggressively threatening him, and even if she was teasing, he could safely say that he did not appreciate the topic of her jokes. Killing people (he thought the words with an ironic flash of amusement) was no laughing matter. Not to him.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

She opened her mouth to defend herself, offended by his flirtatious accusation. Something else caught her attention, though, and actually caused her to drop her act for a moment she was taken so off guard. "Excuse me, but you say you're dead?" She couldn't help but snicker at the idea-- it was crazy! This kid was crazy! Not that most people here at the asylum , but the idea was still befuddling. "Seeing as how your flesh is rotting off of your body, you don't smell like decay, and oh- look!" She pointed to a puff of what looked like smoke that came out of the boy's nose. "You're breathing! Obviously, you're not dead."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((Italic overload. XD))

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Jacob's own lips raised up in an expression that could not quite be called a smile. It was more...reserved than that, just the barest twitch of his mouth at the corners. "Well, sure," he said, rather unfazed by the snickering and the "valid points" the girl was making. He had been through this with so many people so many times that it was impossible to get him too riled up over it anymore. "I'm sure it looks that way. But that's because this is the afterlife, see. It's supposed to mirror what things did Before, so that all the souls would be more comfortable." He raised both hands to gesture around them. "Everything is dead here," he explained. "Me, you, the grass, this tree, everything. This is heaven, what we're living in. And God made it like the world of the living so that we--the souls who deserve it--could live out better, happier lives. And He made it so every person who died was born here without remembering what happened to them when they were alive, because it was so terrible it would be better if they forgot. I haven't, that's all. I remember what happened to me Before, and no one here thinks it was real--but that's only because God said that was how things would be. I'm a glitch in the system, I guess." The young boy gave a quiet laugh, not at all self-conscious as he spoke. He knew the girl would probably accuse him of being mad--they always did. It did not faze him anymore.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Akantha snickered. She wasn't much of a religious woman (being left to fend for yourself on the street for years tended to bend your faith) and this idea was simply ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the other theories of the religious people, that you had to wait before marriage to have sex, that you would go to hell if you didn't, theories of other dimensions and parallel universes. Akantha rolled her eyes at them all. None of them she found worth her time for contemplation, except for now and that was because she wanted to prove herself right. Not that she realized it was impossible due to his mental condition. "What about when people die in this 'Heaven' of yours. What if Raven had actually killed himself? If this were really Heaven, people wouldn't die." She smirked and folded her arms over her chest, surrounded by a smug air of victory. So there.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Raven? Who on earth was that? Jacob didn't know, but at the moment it didn't much matter. He was in the middle of a conversation, after all. "There are some people who don't want to live out a second life after death," he told her. "And that's just fine. If they don't want to, they don't have to, and they can end it again and be with God." Now he shrugged. "I don't know what happens to them, to be honest. I assume they go to God, or Jesus, or Allah, or whoever or whatever they believe in. Why does it even matter?" He raised his eyebrows at the smirking girl, a bit surprised by the air of superiority and victory that surrounded her. Was that all people did for fun around here? Insult and attempt to disprove others' beliefs?

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

[And kill each other.]

Akantha scowled disapprovingly. That was not the answer she had wanted or expected. In her mind, that didn't make sense. There wasn't a logical answer, not that there ever was when it came to someone's god. "But there's only an actual Heaven with Christians so there can't be a Heaven if you expect people to go to Allah." Not a valid point, she knew, but maybe the stupidity if her questions would stump him.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Actually, Muslims do believe in heaven," Jacob said, matter-of-factly. He gave her a little smile: it was always nice to educate. "So they probably would go to Allah, just like I would go to God if I died again. The Koran and the Torah and the Bible all say the same thing happens after death, you know. This is just an additional step in God's plan that none of those holy books mentioned. That's all." How odd, he thought, to be sitting underneath a dead tree talking theology with a girl who only seemed as though she wanted to pick an argument. It certainly wasn't how he'd expected to spend his afternoon.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Which makes since with that whole 'God is the one and only God theory'." The green-eyes girl scoffed and stood up, dusting the snow off of her pink leggings. Had she sat on the snow for
Much longer, the snow would have bleed right through the thin material of her pants. She shook her head with a sigh. This conversation was crazy, and not worth her precious time anymore, she was beginning to think. It was too much ridiculousness for her to handle, and she lived in an insane asylum! "Well, have fun with that," she said with a raised brow, expression still just as smug as ever. "I'll see you around." Unless I can help it. Without any option for a response the green eyes girl was climbing over the short fence and making her way towards the asylum.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((And fade.))

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The peach tree was a peaceful place for most people, even the most disturbed of patients, and Scarlett could see how that was possible. It looked beautiful, and it had an aura of peace and serenity surrounding the area. It was probably the most peaceful of places that the asylum had to offer, but it made Scarlett just ever so slightly uneasy. It was a tree, after all, made of wood, a very flammible material. There was nothing she saw that could spark a flame, and she had thoroughly checked before getting too close. Once she saw that the coast was clear, the brunette allowed herself to sit down, just not directly below the tree. Although the weather was bitter cold, she wore no scarf, only stretch pants and a bulky jacket. It was all she could manage to put on before forcing herself outside. She had heard many wonderful things about every place in the asylum, and now she was eager to see the places she had heard of for herself. This was one of her last stops, and she was enjoying it, sitting in the soft snow and running it through her gloved hands with a small smile in place.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

The quiet creak signaled the opening of the metal gate, and a gentle slam announced it's shutting. The brunette, who's expression had previously been just slightly perturbed, brightened immensely at the sight of the skittish brunette who sat underneath the tree. Crimson wore a maroon sweater and dark jeans, and a dark black beanie partially covered his hair. Of course, his lighter rested in his pocket (when didn't it?), but it had been days since he had last seen the bright orange flame, and instead his molten gaze was frequented with the dreary landscape and the white and gray snow-covered asylum. This had been a record-- Crimson could count almost eight whole days that had passed without even flicking on the lighter or touching a single match. And it showed on the boy; his smile was bright and when his eyes fell upon Scarlett they grew just as bright.

"Hey, hun." Crimson knelt down beside the girl and offered his bright, warm smile to her before taking her hand in his. "How are you doing?"

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

Scarlett allowed his hand in hers after she brushed the snow onto her pants from her hands. She returned the smile with a large one of excitement, mirroring his own warmth. Since she had arrived at the asylum, Scarlett and Crimson hadn't spent much time apart. It was as if they were trying to make up for the times they had spent apart over the years and since Crimson hadn't gone near a flame or a match, she had welcomed his company. Her face only fell when she saw the burn marks he had adjourned his body with and she chose not to look at those today when he took his hand in her own. "I'm doing great. Thought I'd take a trip to the tree you've spoken so highly of. How are you?" She asked this with the slight tilt of her head towards Crimson. He looked like he was doing well, but it was frustrating to know that she didn't recognize his facial expressions anymore the way she used to. He was obviously happy, she could see that, but it was almost as if the two of them had to remeet and recreate the strong bond they had once shared. Even now, things didn't seem the same to Scarlett. Being so far away for so long had taken a toll.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson grinned, and glanced up at the tree above him-- or what was left of it, that is. The leaves had long since turned orange and fallen off, leaving nearly bare branches, and of course there were no peaches on the infamous peach tree. "Yeah, this spot is one of my favourites," he said with a smile in his voice, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree before answering her other question. How had he been? Fine, he supposed. For the past week he had been doing well, but he would be lying if he said the temptation wasn't there. It was addictive. It was addictive to hurt himself and addictive to burn things-- luckily, as of late, he had only been playing with tissues and napkins, and he had been avoiding the curtains and walls. "I've been good. Better as of late." Crimson tilted his head down, and brown eyes met hers with a little teasing smile. "Do you believe me this time?"

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The brunette rolled her cool blue eyes at his tease, allowing a small smirk of amusement to cross over her own lips. "Have I been giving the impression that I don't believe you?" She asked innocently, opening her eyes even wider in mock innocence. Then she wondered if perhaps she had given off such an impression. It was possible, how weary she was when it came to the thought of fire. She tsked and shook her head. "Shame on me. Of course I believe you!" She leaned forward and took a sniff. "You don't smell bad today!" She chuckled as she leaned back on the snow, offering up a shaky smile. It was all jokes and fun, but it was still dark talk, and the thought of it alone made her just slightly uneasy.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson smiled softly. That was always sort of a prerequisite to his visits with Scarlett; if he smelled "bad" to her, he wasn't allowed to see her. That, of course, referred to the smell of soot and smoke that often accompanied the pyromaniac, which he had learned the hard way could just as easily set her off as a flame itself. The boy's smile was genuine, and he gently squeezed her hand as he nodded. "I should," he said with a chuckle of his own. "I haven't been around it for over a week now." There was a small sense of pride in his voice, and rightfully so. He was proud of little accomplishments like these; you had to be when you dealt with such an addictive personality. From people like the nurses, and even his long-gone parents, Crimson would have spoken these words with the intention of approval and praise, but around Scarlett his intentions were only to relax her, and provide her with as much comfort as possible. He winked, then, and gently nudged her with his shoulder. "I've been trying to be able to see you more often, you know."

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

The shaky smile turned to a genuine one, soft this time. She looked pleased about his accomplishments, even proud, and she knew she should be. This wasn't a one-sided battle, she was beginning to realize. It wasn't just about her struggle with her phobia, but his struggle with his addiction as well. They both had to fight conflicts just to be able to see each other and Scarlett greatly appreciated his effort. She wasn't sure how long he had been able to go before her arrival without giving into temptation, but a whole week was certainly impressive for anyone. "Oh you have, have you? Well, that's so sweet of you!" She let go of his hand and began to clap excitedly, her little smile widening in amusement. "Congratulations! What an accomplishment!" And it was, despite the jokes he was cracking with her to ease the slight tension she still felt. Crimson was certainly making progress, maybe even having a break through, and who couldn't be proud of that?

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson laughed a little, and he gave a little half-bow, bending forward and offering a quick wink to the girl next to him. "Thanks, hun," he said with a smirk before offering his hand, resting it upon her thigh palm up. "I've gotta say, it's been nice. I can just see you whenever I want to, without having to worry about anything." His smile was still in place, but a more serious tone entered his voice, showing his sincerity to the brunette. "I should do this more often, huh?" And it was true. Crimson enjoyed the relaxation he himself had felt for this past week, the same relaxation he always worked so hard to make sure his Scarlett felt. There was no sort of pressure, no worry, no nothing. For the first time in a long time, Crimson actually felt relaxed. It was easier, what with Scarlett's arrival, he wasn't going to lie about that. He now had expectations to meet, and an incentive to be good. And his desire to see her and be with her allowed him to avoid the flame easier than before. He wouldn't wish this asylum upon anybody, but it certainly was easier having Scarlett here with him.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"If you can," she agreed eagerly, forcing her smile upwards so it wouldn't turn downwards into a frown. Yes, she could say she enjoyed Crimson's company a lot, and if she could see him everyday without an argument or her crying, it would be blissfully wonderful. Still, she didn't think it would be possible. Crimson could try, and she knew that he would, but she didn't know he could actually go so long without giving into temptation. In a perfect world it would be possible, but weren't there reasons for the two of them being here, in the asylum together? If he could avoid temptation for a long time and she could go a long time without having a fit, then they wouldn't be here in the first place. They would be back home together, living the fairy tale life of high school sweethearts she had always hoped for. Such now was not the case, but what they could have for now was just as nice. "Don't push it," she chided him gently and took his hand again. She squeezed it in encouragement, encouraging him to try and succeed what he spoke of. "You know I don't like it when you do it, but don't stress yourself out by trying not to do it too. That will only end in disaster. Just try to get better little by little and we can see each other every day. Maybe even spend an entire day together. Without your friend on you." Her wary eyes had missed nothing, not even the bulge his lighter had left in his shirt pocket. She looked at it now, trying to keep the disapproval and slight fear off of her face. Looking directly at it made it harder to do.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson held his hands up in surrender, taking her hand with his as he did. "Hey, hey, hey, I haven't touched it, have I?" His tone was only joking, of course, and he offered a little smirk as he lowered his hands back down to his lap. He could see her point, though, of course he could. He knew it was an issue, it was all he had ever heard from her parents as well as his own. It's stupid, it's pointless, why do you have to do it? You shouldn't have to hurt yourself, that's stupid. It's only going to hurt others more than you. You're only doing it for attention. Despite the fact that those words were hurtful and unnecessary, there was some truth in them. He knew it hurt others as well as himself-- Scarlett herself was living evidence of that very fact. He knew it was pointless. But he had an addictive personality, and it was an addictive quality. It was like a drug, or like trying to stop smoking. Very similar. You had to ease yourself off of it little by little, like Scarlett suggested. Crimson chuckled, then, and offered a genuine smile to the girl beside him. "You're always right, aren't you, hun?"

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Noooo," she admitted slowly, her voice carrying a low drawl that made her sound a little bit like a southerner. "And that's great, I know, I'm just saying, it would be nice to not see it on you for once." She squeezed his hand again and gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. He was putting up such a great effort and trying so hard, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated and encouraged his efforts without saying such a thing out loud. Sometimes it wasn't words but actions that were necessary. Now she wanted to shift the subject a little. They didn't need to focus on it when there were so many other things to talk about. She didn't want to offend him by thinking that she was putting him down, that would hurt his feelings and that was the last thing she wanted. "Finally! It's taken you years, but you're finally starting to learn. I am always right." She chuckled lightly as a teasing light began to shine in her light blue eyes.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson grinned, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, of course, as if I didn't always treat you as such before anyways." He offered a little chuckle, feeling himself the pressure lifting off of his shoulders as the topic changed to a much lighter one. "You're always right, and you always have to be." His voice was teasing, and he gave her a wink and a gentle nudge with his shoulder. It was nice to have such light conversations with Scarlett; they weren't frequent. It seemed as if all they ever did was talk about her problems, or his problems, or how different they were, but it was definitely nice to avoid such heavy topics at times like this. "You know everything," he said with a chuckle and a gentle squeeze of her hand.

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"Exactly!" The brunette exclaimed with a little laugh as she raised her hands (Crimson's along with her own) into the air and back down again in emphasis of her word. "It's good of you to finally admit it and lay it all out on the table. You've learned, so don't forget to go tell your friends if how right I am." She nudged him back, elbowing him in the side playfully. "I would also watch where you start pushing people there, hon. You just might end up in a situation you don't want to be in." She was thinking thoughts that were running a similar track as her lover's. It was nice to finally veer off the dark subjects of fear and addiction. Now it was almost like they were having a real life conversation they way they had written letters. They had hardly ever been about their problems (except for the first when Crimson sent the first letter and apologized to her) and it was nice to get back to that spot because ever since she had arrived, they had been trying to work things out with their issues and sometimes, it was best to leave difficult conversations aside for a better time. Like when the two had been able to spend some quality time together as a couple. It would be one of the first times in a while.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Crimson laughed, a quick little breath escaping his nose, and he shook his head with a grin. "Friends. Ha. In case you hadn't noticed, hun, I'm not exactly the most amiable person here." Crimson's words were obviously joking, and he even offered her a wink in return, but it was actually a true statement. Crimson went through very moody phases, and so unfortunately his friends in the asylum were not many. He seemed to make more enemies than he did friends, and that was most definitely not good for his health-- mental or physical. He would give it to himself, however, that he did not make an enemy of the more dangerous patients of the asylum, such as the Adair siblings, Jason, or that French-speaking kid. He supposed that was a positive. "Whenever I get any, though, I'll be sure I never stop talking about how perfect you are."

[*~Silvypoo~* (Chaser of Artemis), Life's a dance, you learn as you go.]

"I'll make a sign," she suggested excitedly. Her blue eyes glittered with amusement. "Then you can announce it to everyone without having to have friends. It's the perfect solution." She let out a low chuckle and leaned back, her eyes glancing over Crimson as if she were inspecting him. She raised her hands, making 'L' shapes with her thumbs and forefingers, creating a square and placing it over Crimson as if she were trying to paint him and was measuring the portrait space. "I can see it already. One of the old fashioned sand which boards and on one side it can read, 'I am the proud boyfriend of Scarlett Ellsworth.' Then on the other side, it could say, 'She is so perfect I love her.' It's a perfect idea, really." Her little smile widened into a toothy gin that shone brightly with amusement. She leaned back against the snow again, partially leaning on Crimson's side for support.