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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Sept 6, 2010 10:28:25 GMT -4
She wandered the streets, having decided to leave the school for now to see if she could try and gather her thoughts and collect herself before she returned (although, returning to what was a big question that she just couldn't find the answer to - well, she knew it was a school, but a school for what was a whole 'nother kettle of fish). She shook her head, trying to clear it. God, why was nothing making sense? she mentally whined.
There, a park, nice, quiet.. She could try and get her thoughts together, see if she could get something resembling a memory together. She quietly entered the park and wandered the pathways, no real destination set in mind. She could only hope that somehow, somewhen, she'd figure out who she was, who she is. She was starting to get tired of the loss of her memories.
She sighed as she leaned against the tree. "How hard is it to remember something?" she groaned, rubbing her temples as if to battle the impending headache. Her blue eyes darted to the side to see who was approaching her, having caught the sound of crunching grass. "..Can I help you?" she asked quietly. 'Please, God, let it be someone who can help me,' she silently pleaded.
OOC: open to whoever
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Post by Gambit on Sept 10, 2010 15:51:02 GMT -4
This city was haunted. Most of them didn’t see it, none of them saw it, but he did. For Remy LeBeau it was all he saw. Elsewhere the memories, the ghosts, they still haunted him yet he could ignore them; but here, in their hometown, they gained strength, refused to be ignored.
Still, he tried. He put on that charming grin and devil-may-care attitude and sauntered his way around them, through them. It wouldn’t change anything, nothing would. He had agreed to come back here to face them head on... he just wasn’t ready yet.
Strolling into a nearby park, the Cajun man removed a carton of cigarettes from one of the many pockets of his long, tan duster, tapping out a single slim tube into his hand. Placing the cigarette between his lips as he walked, he was just about to search out his lighter when a voice stopped him. Looking up behind darkly shaded lenses, he found a young woman looking at him. There was something about her, maybe a hint of fear in her eyes, and he suddenly stopped his search.
“Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle,” Remy said smoothly. “Don’ s’pose y’ got a light?”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Sept 10, 2010 15:54:53 GMT -4
She patted her pockets, instinctively - not knowing why, not remembering why. Once upon a different life, she supposed. She was about to apologize when she felt something in her back pocket. Fishing it out, she blinked blue eyes at the phoenix emblazoned lighter. There was something about that bird that felt painfully, achingly, longingly familiar - almost as if that bird held a piece of her and wasn't letting go, wouldn't be letting go.
"Seems that I do," she said quietly, flicking the lighter open, allowing the flame to escape. She waited for him to touch the flame with his cigarette.
She glanced at him, wondering why she felt that she should know him. She waited to see if he'd say anything, before she asked. She mentally shook herself. Fortune valued the brave, she thought. "You look familiar," she said quietly. "Have we met before?" Maybe, just maybe.. he knew who she was.
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Post by Gambit on Sept 26, 2010 14:29:33 GMT -4
He watched closely as the girl checked every one of her pockets instead of doing a half-assed search and then blowing him off. Just when she was about to give up, she found a lighter, seeming surprised even herself at the discovery. Then, instead of tossing him the lighter and keeping her distance, she didn’t just go to hand it to him, she actually held it for him so he could light his smoke.
A trusting sort, this one. Mentally Remy made a note of that.
Leaning in, he puffed on the cigarette a few times until the end sparked to life. Before he could lean back, though, she spoke, the question catching him a bit off guard. Straightening back up he took a long draw off the cigarette, holding the smoke in as he scrutinized her behind covered eyes. Slowly he let it out.
“Possibly,” he replied, noncommittally. It’s possible he might have... encountered her last time he had been in New York years ago. She was cute enough, but he wasn’t exactly easy to forget, especially so far from home. “But I t’ink I’d r’member a belle femme like y’self.”
With those words Remy turned on that charming grin of his. What? Nothing wrong with being an opportunist. For all he knew, she was using that “have we met before” schtick to try to pick him up.
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Sept 27, 2010 11:40:39 GMT -4
That made her blush a pretty rose at the compliment, the apology. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had called her "belle", pretty. Even if he didn't have the answers she sought, it didn't mean she didn't have to leave yet. Who knew, maybe something would escape his lips that she could latch onto, something that would trigger her to remember something.
Her blue eyes studied him. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, the accent starting to demand her to ask. "I'm figuring.. somewhere South?"
OOC: okay, now I have to giggle now that you have an updated sig pic, it looks like we're reaching out to each other, literally XD
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Post by Gambit on Oct 5, 2010 20:12:08 GMT -4
She was a pretty little thing when she blushed, obviously flattered by the compliment. Trusting, demure, easy... it all seemed to contradict the fact that she was sitting here, in the park, all alone. Or rather, it made it clear that she really shouldn’t have been here alone. If the wrong sort stumbled upon her she could easily be taken advantage of.
Not that Remy himself was the right sort.
At her following question, before she tried to guess just where he was from, the Cajun chuckled. “Beauty and brains. Be still mon coeur,” he teased, taking another drag off his cigarette. He formed a few rings as he released the smoke. “Oui,” he admitted, tapping the side of his nose. “What gave me away? It’s de coat, ain’ it?”
((Ha! nice))
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Oct 5, 2010 21:43:30 GMT -4
She blushed again, clearly not used to compliments, especially from men. "Oui," she murmured, a soft laugh in her voice. "That and the accent. It's pretty," she said, a small warm smile gracing her lips. "Haven't heard that accent up here before." She tilted her head.
"So, what brings you this far north? Sightseeing or planning on moving here?"
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Post by Gambit on Oct 12, 2010 20:26:52 GMT -4
Remy had to wonder how old the girl was. She acted like a young schoolgirl; fresh, pure, blushing at even the smallest compliment. Some people put on an act like this, thinking to charm men with their naivety, make them feel accomplished for having such an affect, but with her it most certainly seemed genuine.
“Pretty?” he repeated, raising both brows at her. Leaning in a little, he dropped his voice to a lower tone. “Dat ain’ de most manly compliment I ever heard on it.”
Returning her smile to let her know he was just teasing, Remy leaned back again, making sure to blow the smoke away from her. Scoundrel he may be, but there was still a southern gentleman in there somewhere.
“Me? I wanted t’ get me a close up look at ol’ Lady Liberty,” he replied, the words rolling easily off his tongue. Lie long enough, well enough, and it started to sound like the truth even to yourself. He knew the truth, though, even if he wasn’t ready to face it. “But y’ know, I’m kinda likin’ it here. All de hustle an’ bustle.” He brushed one finger momentarily under her chin. “De sights ain’ dat bad eit’er. T’inkin’ I might jus’ stick around a bit.”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Oct 12, 2010 20:48:30 GMT -4
The moment he brushed her chin with his finger, she knew she turned a brilliant crimson. That was something new, something different. Strangely, she did find that she liked that touch. It was something she hadn't felt before, not in what seemed like a lifetime.
"New York is pretty. 'Specially 'round Christmastime. Also, Halloween's pretty fun. There's that famous parade in Greenwich," she said, smiling. "But enough about the holidays. New York is always pretty. I hope you enjoy staying here."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at him. "So, do you want to see anything in particular?" she asked. "I might be able to show you around to some of the better sights here."
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Post by Gambit on Oct 25, 2010 16:52:58 GMT -4
Well, well, well, wasn’t she just an accommodating little thing? First talking about the holidays, then actually asking to show him around. Maybe New York wasn’t as bad as people said it was if women could feel comfortable asking out strange men they had just met. Then again, how else was there? The internet? Waste of time. Remy much preferred interacting in person; it played to all his advantages.
“My own personal tour guide? Now if dat don’ beat all,” he drawled. Finishing his cigarette, he dropped the butt on the ground and crushed it under his boot. “I t’ink I’ll take y’ up on dat. Dey say if y’ really wanna see de beauty of a place y’ don’ hit all de tourist spots. Y’ really wanna see de heart of a city, y’ ask one o’ de locals. Dey tend t’ know dem secret spots dat y’ only learn about from livin’ dere.”
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Post by Christine MacTaggart on Oct 31, 2010 19:52:50 GMT -4
She nodded with a smile. "I think New York is one of the spots that is king of having all those secret spots that are wonderful. Is there anything in particular you're interested in? That way I know where to show you and what you'd probably want to avoid."
OOC: sorry so short but my muse is in a mood
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