Thread:InsaneAsylum/@comment-1328622-20140402183026

Idolatry Just skip to the part when you two first meet :'D 11:04 KazuGami XD 11:04 Caromir Gooo 11:04 Idolatry Then, he notices her. A girl standing some paces away; reading quietly to avoid the rain, poring over the pages of a notebook that he is quite certain is his own. She is perhaps sixteen, perhaps a bit younger. Her eyes are light, and her hair is an intermediate color that cannot seem to decide if it is dark or brown. The wavy locks sigh down her shoulders. Beneath her gray coat, she wears a dress the same warm blue of a twilight sky, edged in pinks and yellows. Her lips and skin look soft, and Kasper determines her to be more than mildly intriguing, and fairly pretty. He steps a bit closer, but she does not notice, and stays completely absorbed in the book. She handles the pages delicately, and he can see now that it is, indeed, his own journal. He watches her expression as she leafs through, a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “I believe you have my book,” he says after a moment. The girl jumps in surprise, and nearly drops the book. When she straightens and warily offers it to Kasper, she seems surprised to see that he is smiling. “I’m sorry,” she says, quickly pushing the book away “You dropped it at the train station and I was trying to give it back but I lost track of you and I…I’m sorry.” She finishes, flustered. “That’s quite alright,” Kasper replied warmly, more relieved than angered. “I was afraid it was lost for good, which would’ve been unfortunate. Thank you, Miss…?” “Please just call me Isobel.” A questioning look follows, waiting for his own name. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Kasper,” he says. The name tastes strange on his tongue, the opportunities to speak it aloud falling few and far between. It was as if it were the name of a character in a fairytale instead. The sensible thing would be to thank her and take the book and depart, but Kasper is not particularly inclined to walk off into the rain alone. Gesturing towards the coffee shop across, he asks. “Isobel, might I buy you a drink as a token of thanks?” Isobel hesitates, likely knowing better than to accept invitations to drinks from strange men on darkened street corners, but to his surprise, she nods. “Actually, that would be lovely, thank you.” 11:04 KazuGami Gosh, Insa is a girl XD 11:04 Idolatry I told yo uso 11:04 Caromir Insa mama! 11:04 Idolatry now keep awn readin As they wait in line, he asks if she is hungry, and she gives a polite non-answer that betrays that she is famished. Kasper buys two cups of espresso with small cakes to compliment. They sit in the crowded coffee shop, a charming room of sparkling pastry cases, walls of mirrors and dark wood panels, chocolate velvet seat cushions, and ancient, looming, grandfather clocks. The two talk comfortably, more so like long-distant friends than complete strangers met that hour. “This reminds me of France,” Isobel says. “Are you from France?” he asks. “No, but I lived there for a while.” “As did I,” Kasper replied. “Though that was some time ago. This place is indeed very charming, you are correct. There isn’t much charm here in London, or England, for that matter.” 11:04 AKFrost brb, there's a bucket outside i have to be sick into 11:05 Idolatry “You are charming,” Isobel says involuntarily, then immediately purses her lips as if she would like to pull the words back into her mouth. A tongue-tied silence falls in between the conversation. “Thank you.” Kasper says finally, unsure of what else to say. He then chooses his words carefully, wary about the direction the conversation is heading. “So, how much of my journal were you able to scour through?” Isobel takes an uncomfortable sip of coffee before daring to return his stare. “Not much, to be honest. But they’re drawings, are they not? Small sketches of the world around you. You have drawings of snowy trees, sidewalk crows, city buildings,” she coughs as she adds, “You have a real talent, and an eye for ordinary things that people overlook. You bring beauty to the commonplace with your pencil. It’s like magic.” Kasper only nods, oddly flattered, but too reserved to show it. He quickly finishes his drink, ignoring the burn in his tongue, and stands up from their table. “I’m sorry have I said something wrong?” Isobel follows quickly, grabbing her coat. “Not at all, but I want to show you something, if you don’t mind. Something that many find hard to believe.” “Oh, I believe in many things,” comes her confident answer. Without waiting, he grabs her hand and pulls her out of the café, and onto the wet pavement into a narrow alley. Her footsteps are quicker now as the rain continues to fall harshly, whipping against her bare skin. Her cheeks glisten with silver water as she stands between Kasper and the brick walls. They are buried in rain, their bodies stabbed by the cold as pale sheets of water gleam on the path around them. She looks scared, but altogether expectant. “Do you trust me, Isobel?” “We’ve only just met,” apprehension creeping into her voice. The rain falls around them and there is nowhere to go. Kasper closes the distance between them, until Isobel can see each and every shimmering raindrop on his loose strands of hair. “Then I’ll take that as a no?” “I trust you.” In response, Kasper reveals a small black box, and places the drawing of the snowy forest inside before closing it once more. Mystified, Isobel eyes the box wearily. Trust me. Suddenly, the lid bursts open, and her vision is obscured completely by a bright light. She shivers, either from the cold or the rain. But when she reopens her eyes, the darkness from the rain is somehow brighter. Blinking to first adjust to the light, she squints to see Kasper in front of her, but something is different. There are no raindrops. No rain at all. Her dress is no longer soaked or damp, and instead, there is sunlight, casting a soft glow around them. That is not what makes Isobel gasp. What takes her breath away is the fact that they stand amidst a wintry forest, her back pressed up against a midnight black tree. There is a blue expanse of sky above them, and not a building in sight for miles. She can feel the snowy sun on her skin, and the roughness of bark beneath her fingers. Even the air she is breathing is magical, crisp and sweet in her lungs, not a hint of London smog. Cascading willows, twisting snow, shattering flakes that disappear in blades of ivory grass. It cannot be real, but it is real, and it is the exact scene from the drawing. “This is impossible,” Isobel whispers in wonder, and her eyes meet his eyes, dazzling emerald in the sun. “Anything is possible.” Kasper grins, and a million questions rush into her head and she cannot properly articulate any of them. It’s like magic. “You’re an illusionist…” Isobel laughs, her eyes shining like stars. “No…” then, the realization hits her. “You’re a magician.” The clouds move softly, as if they were breathing, leaving a trail of snowflakes in their wake. “I think you are the first person to ever call me that.” Kasper replies with a lonely smile. Isobel laughs again, and she is still laughing when he leans in. *** To passerby on the darkened streets of London, they look like nothing out of the ordinary. Only two young lovers, kissing in the rain. DONE /hides 11:06 AKFrost I'm dying over here 
 * you so