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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 18, 2013 16:34:24 GMT -6
Username: Blueeyeddevil Character: Solange de Grace Apartment: Solange inherited the apartment after her grandmother passed away. She has since done a little redecorating to make it feel more like her own. She lives in the cozy little apartment with her newly adopted cat Lilly. |
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 19, 2013 21:21:31 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
Today Solange had decided it would be best to just stay home. She had woken up the day before with a slightly sore throat and sort stuffy nose. Of course when she woke this morning it had gotten about a hundred times worse. Her whole body seemed to ache with the cold she had somehow gotten. She could barely breathe and kept sniffling like crazy. A terrible cough had developed over night as well and made her sore throat feel like it was one fire. There was just no way she was going to be able to handle going in to work today. She would be of much use to anyone in this condition. She'd take a day to rest and hopefully feel a little better tomorrow.
She had called Tristan earlier, telling him she felt awful and wasn't going to be able to make it into work. She had been very clear in her instructions that he should not come over. She didn't want him to see her looking like this, her hair in a messy ponytail, wearing a sweat shirt and pajama pants, and wearing no make-up at all which only showed off her red nose. And besides she was still a little mad at him after their fight two days ago. She had been quite hurt by his words and didn't quite know how to tell him so.
She was laying on the couch and watching old reruns of sitcoms from the 90's. She sipped gingerly at the warm tea she had made which felt soothing on her throat. Lilly lay curled up on top of the couch just above her. It was a fairly relaxing afternoon. The doorbell rang and she didn't think much of it. She figured it must have been the Chinese she had ordered a few minutes ago. While she couldn't taste it, she still didn't feel like doing any actual cooking. A curious though entered her head that it was really quick to have already gotten here and she opened the door without thinking about it.
"Tristan," she squeaked out in a weak and raspy voice. her eyes wide. She tucked some hair that had fallen from her ponytail back behind her ear, failing to look any more presentable. "What are you doing here," she asked.
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 19, 2013 22:46:37 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
There had been two seconds on the phone with Solange this morning, where the thought that she was skipping work to avoid him crossed Tristan’s mind. For two, selfish and painful seconds, he’d thought that this all went back to their fight. But then she started to cough and there was absolutely no way she was faking it. Her voice was horridly clogged up and sounded scorched. His heart squeezed up tightly at the sound of it.
There was only one thing to be done.
The second he got off the phone with Solange, Tristan made a B-line for her work computer. He cancelled every single consultation he had that day. Then he called Gwen and asked her to meet him at his apartment after the only funeral service of the day so she could teach him how to make soup. By noon, Tristan had amassed a collection of sick day supplies: Kleenex, cough drops, vapor rub, and – the crowning glory – chicken noodle soup that Gwen decreed “a very sweet attempt” and had tried to “fix” for him. He didn’t let her; it was cheating to have your friend who was a professional chef make your girlfriend soup and claiming you’d done it.
Honestly, Tristan knew very little about caring for sick people. There was a reason he was a funeral director and not a doctor, after all. But where Solange was concerned, Tristan was determined to do his absolute best.
He juggled Solange’s care kit and made his way to her apartment, doing his damnedest not to spill anything. Then, carefully, Tristan leaned on the doorbell. The thought crossed his mind that Solange might be sleeping. But after a few moments, the door opened. And Solange was undoubtedly awake. Her nose was an irritated red and her hair hung limply around her face, refusing to stay neatly in a ponytail.
"Tristan," she said with wide eyes and a faint voice. She started to toy with her hair; to what end, Tristan couldn’t say. He’d never seen her look less than beautiful; even now. "What are you doing here?"
“Taking care of you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing. “I know you said not to come by, but I guess I just couldn’t stay away.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 19, 2013 23:29:12 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
Needless to say she was quite surprised to find not the Chinese delivery man on the other side of her door, but her boyfriend. She had told him that she didn't want him to come, but apparently he had decided to come anyway. he stood there in the doorway, juggling a whole pile of things precariously balanced on top of a large cover bowl of something. She didn't know if she should be angry at him for ignoring her wishes or to be embarrassed that he was seeing her look like such a complete mess. All she could manage to get out at the moment was asking what it was he was doing here.
“Taking care of you,” he said as if it should have been obvious to her. “I know you said not to come by, but I guess I just couldn’t stay away.”
Her heart gave a giddy little leap in her cheat. He was coming to take care of her while she was sick? Even after she told him not to? That seriously had to be one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her. Well, painting a mural of her was pretty high up there, but Tristan would just be topping himself there. "That's...that's really sweet of you," she murmured gently.
With a soft smile, she stepped aside, letting him in and shutting the door behind him. Lilly leaped down from the couch hopped up on to the bar, watching Tristan with a curious expression as if trying to figure out why he seemed so familiar to her. Solange sighed and picked her up, setting her down on the floor again.
"You can set that down here," she said, motioning to the bar. She glanced at the items he had been carrying...cough drops, Kleenexes, vapor rub, and was that chicken soup in the bowl? "You brought all this for me," she asked, a bit surprised. Honestly she had thought he might still be mad at her too.
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 19, 2013 23:50:54 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
Of course, there was always the possibility that ignoring Solange’s wishes would land Tristan in the doghouse. She could very easily take the care package from his hands and send him on his way; he probably deserved that cold-shoulder treatment, after all. Not just for going against Solange’s request that he stay away, but also for being a stubborn *sshat on their last date. If Tristan was Solange, he would have kicked himself out of the apartment before even asking what he was doing there in the first place.
But instead of getting angry, Solange murmured that it was “very sweet” of Tristan to come by with a care package for her. “Sweet” seemed to be the highest compliment she could pay him and Tristan smiled at her. He wasn’t doing it to be “sweet”. He was doing it because she was sick and he was her boyfriend and she could hardly expect her cat to make her soup and tuck her back in.
He cared about her, perhaps more than he cared about anybody else in the world. And there was no way Solange was battling this cold all by herself.
She let Tristan inside. It was the first time he’d ever been in her apartment. It was very bright and very clean. Maybe even a little too bright. He wondered how Solange hadn’t gotten a migraine from the headcold in combination with the giant skylight.
Her cat – Lilly, the one who’d destroyed Tristan’s embalming room a little over a month ago – jumped up onto the bar in Solange’s kitchen. Tristan looked over at her, sizing her up a little. It was stupid to be worried about a cat. Tristan was a grown man and probably, like, thirty times bigger than a cat. But… Well… He’d seen the kind of damage Lilly was capable of. He could just imagine her getting into the soup and making a mess. But Solange put Lilly back on the floor. Tristan smiled faintly. As long as Lilly stayed out of the soup, they’d get along just fine.
"You can set that down here," said Solange, gesturing to the bar.
Tristan did as instructed and began to lay out the items, arranging them so that they were each easily seen and easily accessible. Solange scrutinized each item in turn.
"You brought all this for me?" Solange asked. The surprise was more than evident in her soft voice. Tristan looked over at her and a little almost-smile tugged at his lips.
“Nah, they’re for Lilly,” he said lightly. Then shaking his head, he reached out to place his hand between Solange’s shoulder blades. “Of course, it’s for you.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 20, 2013 13:29:28 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
Somehow she wasn't quite use to someone looking after her. Well, her grandparents had looked after her of course, but it was new having a boyfriend look after her. Goth guys weren't exactly the best at bed-side manner and Caleb had often just stayed away when she told him not come while she was sick. He'd send a get well teddy bear or something, but it wasn't quite the same. Tristan had come despite being told not to and despite the fact they had been fighting just two days ago. A small smile crept to her face, touched b the gesture.
It was a stupid question, but she found herself asking if he'd really brought all the stuff he had laid out on the counter for her. She thought she saw a hint of a grin flicker to his lips. “Nah, they’re for Lilly,” he said teasingly, making a tight sort of sarcastic 'Ha ha' sort of smile pulls at her lips. “Of course, it’s for you.” The smile turned more genuine now as he placed a hand on her back. His touch felt warm and comforting.
She looked up at him now with slightly red rimmed blue eyes. "So, you aren't still mad about Saturday," she asked as if to clarify. She had been mad a little earlier when she called but she was finding it hard to stay mad at him when he did such thoughtful things like bring her a care package while she was sick. She quickly turned away from him and covered her mouth and nose with the tissue she had been clutching her hand as a sneeze caught her. A soft groan escaped her lips. Seriously, what had she done to deserve this?!
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 20, 2013 15:47:54 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
Solange’s bloodshot eyes met Tristan’s. His smile at her grew, even though she looked miserable. Of course, when she asked him, "So, you aren't still mad about Saturday?" Tristan blanched. Saturday; their fight. He should have known it would come up sooner or later. But he’d hoped for later. Much, much later.
“About that—“
Solange sneezed violently into the Kleenex she was holding. Tristan looked at her, wide-eyed. Solange was definitely sick. Tristan wasn’t going to say it out loud – he didn’t want to hurt Solange’s feelings or have her take it the wrong way – but that sneeze was nasty.
“Gesundheit,” he said. “And for the record… No. I’m not still mad. I wasn’t really ‘mad’ then, either. I just… kinda… I flipped out. I’m – I’m sorry.”
Tristan didn’t want to launch into a litany of excuses or reasons why he reacted the way he had. The truth was: he wasn’t used to having somebody else around—especially not somebody else who actually wanted his undivided attention for longer than an hour or two. He’d never been good at being yelled at or reprimanded, either. He hadn’t really heard her words, not until she’d left him alone in the park. He’d just heard her voice getting louder and louder. Angrier and angrier. And it had scared him. Set him off. Being yelled at had never ended well for Tristan before.
It was only after Solange was long gone that Tristan even realized that the fight hadn’t been about him or about her. It had been over the cell phone, which he’d been smart enough to leave in the car today and would be shutting off on future dates. Or at least putting on silent. And it was only once he was in the still of his embalming room that Tristan realized he’d yelled back at her. That thought scared him more than Solange’s yelling. Disturbed him. There was a reason Tristan made a conscious effort not to raise his voice.
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 20, 2013 16:30:28 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
The fight had been Saturday night and they had not actually talked on Sunday. It was Monday now honestly it was high time for them to actually discuss the fight like rational adult instead of yelling at one another like two crazy emotional teenagers. She had been taken back when Tristan had yelled at her in return but she supposed she had started it all in the first place. Instead of actually telling him what the problem was, she had gotten quite accusatory and began yelling at him. That couldn't have helped matters.
“Gesundheit,” he said after her sneeze. “And for the record… No. I’m not still mad. I wasn’t really ‘mad’ then, either. I just… kinda… I flipped out. I’m – I’m sorry.”
She smiled tenderly and nodded. "I'm sorry too," she admitted. "You probably wouldn't have flipped out if I hadn't been yelling at you. There I go again with the crazy person act! I blame you," she said teasingly, eyes flickering mischievously behind the exhaustion. There really wasn't anything to blame him for. He just inspired a whole new set of feelings in her. She sighed softly as she continued. "I should have talked it out. What I was trying to say that night was I just want our dates to be about two of us. Does that make sense," she asked.
She was glad to have that settled. She would have kissed him or hugged him if she wasn't afraid of passing her sickness along to him. She wouldn't wish this on her worst enemy, let alone her boyfriend who she truly cared for. She grabbed a cough drop from the bag and slowly made her way back to the couch, curling up and pulling her grandmother's favorite blanket over her.
"How was work today without me," she asked. Then it dawned on her. It was only a little past noon. There was no way he could have gotten through with everything that quickly and still had time to get all of this stuff to bring her. "Wait...you had 5 consultations today. What happened?"
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 20, 2013 16:58:21 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
To Tristan’s astonishment, Solange apologized, too. He didn’t bother covering up his shock; she’d been right to get mad at him. Any romantic evening that ended in the morgue was absolutely unsalvageable.
"I'm sorry too," she admitted. "You probably wouldn't have flipped out if I hadn't been yelling at you.”
Tristan’s eyes softened. When Solange understood him, she really understood him. He nodded slowly, fighting the urge to kiss her – even on the forehead – since there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t sneeze on him if he did.
“There I go again with the crazy person act! I blame you," she teased.
Tristan hung his head, but grinned.
I guess we bring a whole new meaning to ‘Crazy for you’…
"I should have talked it out. What I was trying to say that night was I just want our dates to be about two of us. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” he agreed. “Well, now it does.”
He followed her to the couch and sat down beside her. When Solange had tucked her blanket around her shoulders, Tristan took her legs into his lap and began rubbing her ankles, her feet affectionately. If he couldn’t kiss her, he would find another way to let her know that he wished he could. His fingers moved in gentle circles. The spots where Solange’s high heeled shoes wore on her feet day in and day out were evident from their calluses.
"How was work today without me?" Solange asked.
“Quiet. Boring. Lonely,” said Tristan with a miniscule shrug. “But I survived.”
He worked his way to a pressure point on the sole of Solange’s left foot.
"Wait...” she said, causing Tristan to stop, pressing a little too hard on her foot. He let go and looked up. “You had 5 consultations today. What happened?"
Tristan slouched a little sheepishly and picked Solange’s foot back up.
“Um… Don’t get mad…” he said. “But I rescheduled them for later in the week.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 20, 2013 17:34:12 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
She was only 22. She'd be 23 next month but that was still quite young. Even still, she liked to think that she was a relatively mature person for her age. She hadn't exactly shown that Saturday night when she had been yelling at her boyfriend in the middle of the park. She was definitely going to try and do better about that; talk more, yell less. She decided a good place to start would be to explain her feelings on the situation in a rational manner, though she wondered out loud if it made any sense to him.
“It does,” he told her. “Well, now it does.” She sighed with relief, knowing that they were back on the same page. She didn't really like fighting and liked fighting with Tristan even less. She had missed him yesterday. Well, in between being mad at him. Either way she was grateful to have him back with her, even if had only been a day.
Her cold was catching up to her the longer she stood. She trudged her way back to the couch, needing to lay down again. Tristan joined her, pulling her legs into his lap and letting his fingers work over her feet and ankles. It felt absolutely wonderful! A soft sigh of pleasure parted her lips as she smiled at him gratefully. It was so wonderful of him to spend the day with her, taking care of her. Though it called into question how he was able to. She asked about work.
“Quiet. Boring. Lonely,” he said with a shrug, making her laugh softly though it stung her throat a bit. “But I survived.” At her question about the consultations she had scheduled for the day, though, he froze. She winced a tad as he pressed a little too hard on her foot. Slowly he picked her foot back up and started again. “Um… Don’t get mad…” he said and suddenly worry shot through her at the thought of what his next words would be. “But I rescheduled them for later in the week."
She chuckled and shook her head. "They are not going to be happy," she muttered. "I'll probably get a few upset calls tomorrow." She smiled at him fondly. "Though you dropping everything to come to my rescue is very romantic...thank you, darling." The pet name passed her lips without much thought but she rather liked it.
The doorbell rang. "That would be the Chinese food I ordered," she declared. "Could you get it? The money is on the counter. Feel free to have it. Chicken soup sounds better to me right now."
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 20, 2013 18:09:12 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
Tristan really didn’t want Solange to get angry again; not right after they’d made up. But he’d created more work for both of them when she was back up to speed; already Tristan was planning to spend every day for the rest of the week, working overtime, so he could keep up with his embalming work by night and squeeze in consultations between funeral services by day. But it would be worth it; it already was, since Solange laughed.
"They are not going to be happy," she muttered. "I'll probably get a few upset calls tomorrow." She smiled at him fondly. "Though you dropping everything to come to my rescue is very romantic...thank you, darling."
Tristan smiled over at her. After their fight, he’d groused at Torben and Gwen about his relationship with Solange. Torben had said something interesting: relationships were about sacrifice. Actually, Torben had said “love is about sacrifice”, which earned a swift tongue-cluck from Gwen that said without words: Too soon. But it was true, whether this was “love” or not; Tristan would have to make changes if he wanted Solange in his life. And he wanted her in his life. That much he knew.
The doorbell rang, earning a perplexed look from Tristan.
"That would be the Chinese food I ordered," Solange said. "Could you get it? The money is on the counter. Feel free to have it. Chicken soup sounds better to me right now."
“If you say so,” Tristan said, sliding Solange’s legs off of his lap and standing. “Gwen gave me a crash course in soup-making, but if you’ve still got a sense of taste… I am very, very sorry.”
He walked to the door and swapped cash for Chinese takeout. Then he walked into the kitchen, washed his hands, and looked around for silverware and bowls. It took three tries, but eventually, he found where Solange kept everything. He returned with lunch, walking slowly and trying not to spill. He handed Solange the bowl of soup and a spoon. And then he watched her over the takeout box, waiting for her reaction.
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 20, 2013 20:59:26 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
It was comfortable having Tristan there in her apartment. She supposed that they were already far ahead of the normal 'schedule' of a relationship. That was to say that with most couples, the girl rarely let the guy see her without make-up until much further along in the relationship. They were only just barely about to hit the 4 week mark. Then again, most couples hadn't known each as long as she and Tristan had before deciding to date. It felt nice though that she and him were so comfortable with each other.
She offered the Chinese takeout she order to Tristan if he would go and answer the door. She figured that chicken soup would probably feel better on her throat at this point than the General Tao's Chicken from the take out place.
“If you say so,” he said as he went to answer the door. “Gwen gave me a crash course in soup-making, but if you’ve still got a sense of taste… I am very, very sorry.”
She laughed and shook her head, certain it couldn't be as bad as he was making it out to be. He began to rummage around her kitchen, trying to figure out where she kept things. She tried to instruct him from her place on the couch and through their combined efforts he managed to get lunch set for them. He came bringing it back out into the living room and handed her soup and a spoon as he went for the takeout.
She took a few bites and looked over, noticing him watching for her reaction. She smiled at him. "This is the best chicken soup I've ever tasted," she said exaggeratedly, nudging him with her foot. "Seriously though, from what I can taste its very delicious. And I love that you made the effort to make it for me. You are seriously spoiling me. I don't know how I'm going to measure up to all this the next time you get sick!"
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Post by The Exodus on Feb 20, 2013 23:51:46 GMT -6
Tristan Vidal
Solange must have noticed him staring because she nudged Tristan with her foot.
"This is the best chicken soup I've ever tasted," she said, even though Tristan was pretty sure her taste-buds were goners from the cold. It was sweet of her to say so, anyways. It put him more at ease. "Seriously though, from what I can taste its very delicious. And I love that you made the effort to make it for me. You are seriously spoiling me. I don't know how I'm going to measure up to all this the next time you get sick!"
“I don’t get sick,” Tristan told her seriously. He didn’t look up as he struggled with the chopsticks.
It wasn’t one-hundred percent true, since Tristan sometimes got the flu or a stomach bug or whatever, but there was something about constantly working around death and decay that either did wonders for Tristan’s immune system or made him more aware of things that could get him sick – germy doorknobs, uncovered sneezes, wet coughs from strangers. The few times Tristan could recall getting sick as an adult, he’d still dragged his carcass into work until he was run so ragged he couldn’t see straight.
“You can’t do that anymore,” Laurence had said the last time he drove Tristan to the emergency room for a fever that climbed over 101 degrees Fahrenheit. “You’re a grown man and you have to take responsibility for your health before it gets out of hand.” It hadn’t gotten out of hand, as far as Tristan was concerned. He hadn’t ended up on his own embalming table yet. That was healthy enough.
“Besides, I like spoiling you,” Tristan told Solange. He stabbed the chicken with the pointy end of his chopstick and took a bite. He’d never had anyone to spoil before; at least nobody that appreciated it half as much as Solange seemed to when he tried. He smirked over at her. “Just know that tomorrow morning, if you come into work still coughing and sneezing like this, I’m giving you a surgical mask, so you don’t get your germs all over the lobby.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Feb 21, 2013 0:21:52 GMT -6
Solange de Grace
As much as she was enjoying having Tristan spoil her with all kinds of sweet gestures, she couldn't help but wonder how on earth she was going to top this. She realized their relationship was not a competition of who could be the most romantic or something, but she he was setting the bar pretty high. She told him out loud how she didn't know how she was ever going to be able to top all this when he eventually got sick.
“I don’t get sick,” he said absentmindedly, working to control his chopsticks. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at this statement. Why was it very guy seemed to think that they were completely invincible? He turned to her finally as he continued. “Besides, I like spoiling you,” he said and dopey little smile curled her lips, though she hurried to take another bite of soup so he wouldn't notice.
She glanced up again to see him smirking at her. “Just know that tomorrow morning, if you come into work still coughing and sneezing like this, I’m giving you a surgical mask, so you don’t get your germs all over the lobby.”
She glared playfully now. "Oh just what every girl wants her boyfriend to say" she said sarcastically. "I officially take back all I said about you being romantic!" She laughed and shook her head, smiling. She felt happy again for the first time since Saturday night.
FIN
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Apr 4, 2013 17:43:32 GMT -6
Solange de GraceLife was good for Solange. She was at a point of actually enjoying her job, she had a wonderful place to live, and she had a boyfriend that made her smile and laugh and could be herself around. As much as she enjoyed Tristan's company, though, she looking forward to a little girl time with her best friend. She had Devi had managed to stay in touch but it had been a while since they had worked in some time for them to relax and hang out together. Both of their schedules were quite hectic. But Devi was on the way over now to hang out at her apartment for a little while so they could decide which club to hit up tonight. It was Saturday night and Tristan had made a bit show of pretending to be hurt that she was hanging out with Devi instead of him. But she knew he was planning to go into the funeral home and get some work done. He wasn't the type to get upset about her spending time with a friend or be all clingy. She wouldn't have dated him if he were. She'd just joked right back that he had his own date that night in the form of an 80 year old dead woman, to which he'd just laugh, kissed her, and told her to have fun. The doorbell rang and she smiled as she rushed to get it. She opened the door, giving Devi a quick hug before ushering her inside. She smiled at the sharp looking outfit she wore, definitely looking ready for a night on the town. "You look hot Devi!" she exclaimed with a broad grin. "I'm lucky you're my date for the night!" She gave a teasing wink before stepping into the kitchen to get some wine for the two of them. "How was work this week?"
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