Completed [Flashback] Favorite Mistakes (Erasmus)

[Krysanthe]

Who possibly needed that much time to think? A single minute felt like ages for Krysanthe, and she felt herself tapping her foot anxiously, unconsciously biting her lip. ‘Alright.’ What? She had mentioned telling stories. Did he mean alright as in, alright she should tell him one? Or alright he will find someone else? Or… Did he read her mind or something? He offered her a hand and she stared at it as if it were foreign to her. He explained to her his understanding of her apprehension, and soon, she found herself staring the man straight in the face. He really was handsome, yet at the same time, horrifying. He was as pale as a ghost ,his eyes red as blood. His lips were dark and his teeth were pointed, both threatening and tantalizing as he smiled. He was beautiful, yet at the same time terrifying. The contradiction mystified Krysanthe who had always fancied herself as being different. This man gave ‘different’ a whole new definition. One more question… Was it her, or did he seem to be even closer to her? Inches away. She could feel his breath. She clenched her fists at her sides. Inartan people were not known to care much about personal space, but Krysanthe had bigger boundaries than most, and this was completely invading her personal space. Erasmus didn’t seem to care. But he didn’t seem threatening. He didn’t seem to mean any harm. Despite his sharp features, he seemed so soft, so innocent. With every word, she flew closer and closer to his tempting little web. Krysanthe let the question sink in, not saying anything in response. After all, he told her not to answer right away. Much to her relief, he stepped back and once again offered a hand to help her up. This time, she accepted it. His single hand was strong and cold. She felt as though he’d be able to lift her up with a single finger, yet at the same time, he was so fragile. So thin. His boniness surprised her. She felt as though she could hug him and break him in half. Erasmus attempted to gain more of Krysanthe’s trust by informing her of unfair reputations, how she wished they wouldn’t be judged based on the few who participate in barbaric ceremonies. Barbaric ceremonies? What ceremonies? Blood suckers? Whoa there buddy, back up a few steps. Krys knew next to nothing of their reputation, and Erasmus stating them outright was certainly not helping his case. He confused her and scared her and amazed her and left her confused. She simply offered a nod in response, not exactly knowing what else to say. By the time they reached their rooms, Krysanthe was exhausted. That was an awful lot of walking. She was tired. But she owed him an answer. Standing outside her door, she made a queer expression, clearly thinking. After a moment, she looked up to Erasmus, saying softly “If I could change anything…” She sighed, as if about to change her mind, as if she didn’t care for her original idea. She opened her mouth, shut it, and shook her head, glancing at the ground for a second. Taking another breath, she looked back up at Erasmus. “I would change how my people treat each other. We live efficiently. We live the way we do so we can survive, because surviving here isn’t easy. But the way we live is cruel to so many, and I’ve seen too many people get hurt unjustly in my life to be proud of our ‘system’. If I could, I would change everyone’s eyes, so they could actually really see each other for once in their lives. Know what I mean?” She bit her lip again. That sounded stupid. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t a good answer. She should have just waited. She should have slept on it. He wouldn’t have minded. She shouldn’t have told him that. It was idiotic. She was exaggerating. It meant nothing. She clenched her fist around her doorknob, ready to high tail it back into the safety of her bedroom.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus By now, reader, you should know how many thoughts go through this young cretin’s mind in a millisecond. He was a thinker, after all. He saw depth in everything… and yet, although he did not know it at this time, he was (obviously to you) one of the shallowest people in all of Mizahar... Sure, he could think about facial expression ahead of time, could try to manipulate Krysanthe by grouping together the few carefully chosen words he knew in the common language, could allude to a caring, deep, alluring soul behind his mask of fangs and claws and blood-red eyes… but without his act, who was he? Who was this Erasmus fellow? What truly spoke to him, if not this tangible woman who actually owned depth without being completely lost in the true objective of seeing it… perhaps I am just rambling, but it is a question Erasmus would be forced to face in the future… who was he, who was he really? A spider? A man? A harvester? A fake? A pretender… yes, in all honesty he had acted all his life. Acted like he loved his young wife, acted like he was old enough to understand the world and everything about it, acted like he had all the answers, like he was flawless, like he was careful. Was he real at all? At this moment in time, and I do think it is an exceptionally pivotal point in time… Erasmus just may have turned real… though he didn’t recognize this small change. Not at all. It was invisible, it didn’t change his act. It absorbed him into his own mask, making him real for, perhaps, the very first time in his entire life. Because let us face the facts; Krysanthe’s answer meant far more than nothing. Erasmus was not going to pretend like the symenestra race was perfect, even if Krysanthe did not know how horrible others thought they were. This ‘enlightenment’ would not be for nothing… if he lead her to believe that his race was in all ways faultless, eventually she would hear the ‘rumors’ from someone else. It would betray the trust Erasmus hoped to build between them… an innocent man has nothing to hide, and Erasmus was playing the convincing role of innocent while in the midst of Wind Reach and all its volcanic temperaments. He would rather it be this way… he teaching her, instead of an outsider to his race. This way he had more control over the clay placed into the palm of his hand. No other outside influences… it was ideal. The trip back was altogether silent. Finally they were home. Finally she started to answer him. ‘Why so timid, Kryssie? Why so hesitant? You fascinate me… what’s going on in that head of yours?’ Erasmus’s thoughts were cut short by her answer. Do not misunderstand… Krysanthe’s reply could have affected him on a whole different level, if he actually knew the feeling of guilt when it came to taking innocent lives and such. Erasmus was a firm believer in the harvest. In fact, this belief would never really change. It is what the symenestra had to do. It was good. It was necessary. But Erasmus saw Krysanthe… saw her conflict, yet her resolution, and it nearly broke his heart. Just listening to how genuine her response was made him rethink his… which seemed so bland, even if there was no real feeling behind it! She had beaten him. Her answer was twenty times better. Krysanthe made him sympathize with her; somehow relate to her… he found himself jealous, truly jealous that she could feel so strongly about something. It was an odd feeling. Jealousy. He did not like it… but the feeling was very curious… so he did not necessarily want the emotion to go away. Before she could dart into her room, he gently put a hand on her shoulder as if to plea she might not go in such haste. “I get it…” he mumbled thoughtfully, smiling with his pointed canines concealed. He did not want to keep her waiting... in fact, he was getting a feeling that he completely exasperated her with his lengthy discussions, pauses, and musings; therefore, against his mess of thoughts, he slid his hand back to his side again and nodded her a farewell. Without another word more, the spider turned his back and fumbled with his own door, the key fitting snugly into its rightful place. There was no turn to look at her one last time before disappearing into his mess of a room... there was far too much to think about, and another look in her direction would give him a million other things to dwell over.

[Krysanthe]

Contrast is what separates one object from another. It is the difference in color, luminance, texture, tone, temperature, and any additional trait of the senses that makes life real and vivid. Contrast is art. Contrast is emotion. Contrast is heart.Erasmus put his icy hand on Krysanthe’s shoulder and what she felt was far from one shade of ashen skin gripping another. She felt the contrast. She felt the difference between the two and how by some twist of fate it brought them together. She was so warm; he was so cold. She was the sun, he was the moon. She was lightness, he was darkness. She was stubborn and rough, impatient and temperamental. He was calm. He was gentle. He was patient. This contrast felt unnatural to Krys. She was so used to blending into the crowd. Everyone was, to a certain extent, exactly the same. Yes, everyone is unique in their way and blah blah blah the lessons in confidence that have been droned into them since before they were able to comprehend even the most basic words of their language. Knowing that there was someone out there who was different from her in so many ways was an unnatural feeling. Knowing that his room was right next to her was completely and irrefutably strange. He was different, and it made her feel different. It made her feel like she wasn’t just another psychotic redhead. It was like she mattered. He made her feel like she had a place, a purpose even. After all, it seemed that he wanted her to stay here. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to look her in the eye. For Krys, this was not exactly a common experience, especially from a complete stranger. He was quite literally a new brand of being for Krysanthe, in so many ways. He was gorgeous. He was charming. He was kind. He was gentle. He was intelligent. He was mysterious. He was dark. He was scary. He was strange. And he understood her. He actually understood her. Very few had ever actually taken the time to understand her before. Such a thing struck her deeply, and she didn’t know quite how to handle herself in such a new situation. When Erasmus withdrew his hand, Krysanthe offered no sort of farewell. She didn’t say goodnight. She didn’t nod. She didn’t wave. She just stood there, staring at him like she couldn’t quite see him. It was as though she was not far away, he was so incredibly distant from her. Perhaps she had gotten used to his body being mere inches away from her own (for the man had very little sense of personal space, it seems) so when he left her she felt odd. More likely was it that she was so stuck in her ways, so unable to figure out this enigma of a man that it was all she could do. She just stared, completely dumbstruck. When his door closed, her eyes remained fixated on it, as if waiting for it to reopen, waiting to see his face. Waiting to see if he had forgotten something. Waiting for... waiting for him. Why? She wasn’t sure. Honestly, she couldn’t quite figure out what just happened. After a long moment, Krysanthe opened the door to her own quarters, stepping inside. She leaned against the door once it was closed and rested there for a long while, leaning her head back, just thinking. What had happened today? She woke up. She got ready for the day. She went to work. She made a trade. All basic. All easy. All as she had done before. But then by some lapse of judgement she agreed to give a tour. She agreed to become a teacher. She agreed to do something in which she had never tried before. And she just couldn’t figure out why. Was it for a simple trade, even if the item was so valuable? Was it for Erasmus, a man of whom she knew almost nothing of? Or was it more than that? She just couldn’t figure it out, and honestly, she stopped trying. With a deep breath, Krysanthe finally stepped away from her door, slipping under her covers and into her sanctuary to be alone with her thoughts, to spend her night dreaming of a charming spider showing her around a city where she walked on woven strands of silk and where people lived in teardrops.

[Invictus]

Experience Award! Krysanthe Skill XP Earned Lore Earned Observation +4 The Day to Day Grind Intimidation +1 Market Day: Running A Business Negotiation +3 Design: A Necklace With Beads Rhetoric +2 Glassblowing: An Eye For Value Leadership +2 Pact With A Symenestra Organization +1 Krysanthe: Tour Guide Extraordinaire! Erasmus: Acquaintance Erasmus Skill XP Earned Lore Earned Observation +4 A Widow Amongst Eagles Persuasion +2 Finding A Suitable Candidate Negotiation +2 Wind Reach: Courtyard Of The Sky Subterfuge +1 The Woes of Dependency Rhetoric +3 Pact With An Inarta Impersonation +1 Underground Forest: A Home Away From Home Krysanthe: Acquaintance Comments Well, let me just start off by saying: Wow. You are both exceptional writers in my book. And you turned a rather humdrum event of a chance meeting into a tale that delved into strong character motivations. I really felt like I got to know each of your characters in this thread without having to read the concepts of your CS. I realize how long it took you both to complete this thread, but I hope to see you both writing together in the future. You compliment one another extraordinarily well. Good job! Note: There is a small hiccup as per the malachite case being transferred from one character to another. I'll be asking for an addition to be made to the price list followed by asking for an appropriate deduction to be made in funds from Erasmus. I didn't see it on your CS, so if I'm blind, just let me know. If you have any questions as to your grades or wish for something I neglected to give you credit for, please do let me know. It was a long thread so it's entirely possible. I promise I don't bite. Enjoy!