(open) power's out.

[saultaylor]

Winter was the worst of seasons.

It wasn't the cold or the snow or the slush; Saul rather liked all of these things. If it were for just that, Saul would have loved winter; he was more comfortable in the chill of winter than the sweltering heat spring gave birth to. No, winter was the season when the dreams were unstoppable, when the highs were manic and the lows superb, when the things he wrote he would even dare show anyone, lest they think he serious about it all. Sometimes he didn't even know for sure.

He'd been called back to a coffee shop on the other side of town for a second reading, a new piece; he'd needed the money, so he obliged, but realized his mistake when, halfway through, the entire audience looked unsettled, shifting in their seats, listening intently with wide, innocent eyes. They'd said they loved it, but looked at him with that cautious sort of look, like one gets when they wonder where in the world does that boy think of such dark things?

"More like, ohmigod, he's gonna murder us in our beds," Saul thought to himself with a grimace, letting the strong winter wind string his face and the tips of his ears- it made him feel a little better, a little more awake after the drowsy warmth of the café. He clung a little tighter to the strap slung over his back, the thin backpack hanging on by a thread; the thing started out black, but was now a faded, dark grey with many, many rips and seams along the sides. He'd had it for a while, but then again, he never seemed to throw anything away.

It was strange for some people to think that Saul, the tiny, pleasant guy, could write the things he did; oh, the horrors that exit his pen. A lot of people had doubted him before, accusing him of plagiarism, stealing, anything, everything; it didn't matter to him. Sometimes he wished he had. Most times, he just wish he could write something about the pleasantries of life, of the small and trivial happiness that seemed to avoid Saul wherever he went, just close enough for the eighteen year old to peer through the window and experience it vicariously, however unsatisfyingly.

Well, life's a bitch. What else is new.

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

Lilith kept her eyes on the boy that had just walked into the cafe, not daring to look away. Damn, he was adorable. So tiny. Like a stuffed animal. She wanted to run up and wrap her arms around him, just because she wanted to. After a minute, she figured out why he was there. Poetry reading. How fun. Lil turned back to finish her order, throwing a poppy seed bagel on top just so she'd have something in her stomach. Her parents were getting worried for no reason at all. So what if she practically never ate unless there was food in front of her, and the only thing she really wanted to eat were fruits and flowers. Just the petals, and roses tasted the best. But her parents were worried nonetheless and she sighed, taking her bagel and heading to her seat. As soon as the boy opened his mouth, she couldn't help being a bit scared. His poetry was dark. Scary. What kind of person came up with that. She could see people fidget and one person actually went into the bathroom to hide. Maybe escape through the window. But he was so small, so vulnerable. It seemed as wrong for the kid to write and read this kind of thing as a child turning into a serial killer. She shuddered. I'm not scared, she told herself softly.

Lilith stretched her gloved fingers above her head, yawning like a cat as she did. Damn, that boy could write some dark stuff. Not exactly Lil's taste, but she did see the heart in it. This boy didn't care what people thought of his poems, or him for that matter. She laughed a little, sipping down her hot milk dripping with caramel and whipped cream. This was the only cafe in the entire city that didn't mind hunters all that much. They didn't mind anyone really. She breathed in, shivering at the smell of coffee beans and fear. New skill, she told herself. Anything that was happening to her that felt weird, she just blamed on her getting to be a better hunter. Even if she hadn't killed something in weeks. Scoffing at her inability to commit murder anymore, she pushed herself up into a standing position. She curled her fingers around the tip someone had left the for the waitress and shoved it in her pocket absently. She stole because she could, not because she needed the money.

Lilith smiled a little and walked up to the boy. Saul. He was on record for being a possible half-blood, and her job was to watch him for the day. He was cute, just an inch shorter than her, with dark eyes, like a deep lake. Flirting wouldn't work on him, since he was obviously gay. So she pulled out the stolen cash and offered it to the dark poet. "You're good. Makes me wonder if you're actually serious about that sort of thing," she told him, smiling. "And where you come up with it." The young hunter let out a small laugh, then took a sip of her milk/caramel mess. He's gay. Your tricks don't work on him, the small voice in the back of her mind whispered. She almost glared. So the voice worked when she didn't need it, like now, but it wouldn't tell her to eat? She frowned to herself. "Anyways, my name's Lilith. You're Saul, right?" she asked, still holding out the money for him. Lilith looked down at her hand and blushed, knowing she probably looked like an idiot. "From one artist to another," she clarified.

[saultaylor]

Saul pulled his jacket closer to him, feeling the chill of the winter wind finally set into his skin; it was biting and mean, an angry wolf. he wrapped his red scarf closer around his neck and pulled it up and over his mouth and halfway up his nose, holding his hands over it to feel the fabric warm from the hot breath underneath. The cold that he had just welcomed seemed to turn on him, gnawing on his bones and making his eyes water; maybe Killian was home. Maybe he was making hot chocolate for when Saul returned; maybe he was sleeping in, so that the bed was still warm and Saul could climb right in and take a morning nap. Probably not, though; someone had to work, and that person wasn't Saul. Not yet, at least. He'd get on that horse eventually.

He felt bad for that, not getting a job and all, butt he way he saw it, he had his mum's money right now. Even with her strange habits and terrible job, she had managed to save up quite a bit and Saul was able to look forward to not working for at least three years... If he wanted to be overachieving, he could put that money towards college, but the idea never came to him nor did it appeal to him. He didn't have any real aspirations, least of all one that would require him to work ruthlessly for.

It had seemed like he'd been walking for longer, but when he heard snow crunching under bootheels behind him and turned back, the cafe was only a little ways down the street- that damn cold and it's time bending skills. The snowcrunching belonged to a bundled up girl not too far back; she had just exited the café, and it seems like she was trying to get to him... He sort of hoped not. He was always really awkward, especially after a reading- he'd just given you something of his, something personal and true. Well, as true as fiction can be, either way. He didn't really know what else to tell them, at any rate.

Nonetheless, he slowed his pace to a steady walk until she made his way to him; he gave a small, awkward smile and nodded to her presence, but made no motion to start conversation with her. Before even speaking, the girl reached in her pocket and brandished some money; a few crumpled dollar bills. "You're good. Makes me wonder if you're actually serious about that sort of thing, And where you come up with it." Serious? Saul offered a soft laugh as a greeting, staring at his feet in the snow before shaking his head. "No, no... Not serious." he assured; he hoped, more like. "I wouldn't take the poems too literally; I suppose they're just... symbols. Concrete examples of something abstract. If you will."

He smiled again, pulling his coat closer to him but shaking the scarf off from around his mouth- he would rather not sound all muffled when he met someone new, especially when he was already burdened with a stutter problem. "Anyways, my name's Lilith. You're Saul, right? From one artist to another," At that, he gave her a strange look- how did she know his name? it was a simple coffee house function, they hadn't really called out his name... Maybe they had written it on a chalkboard somewhere or something. Just to give him something of a label. "Lilith, first wife of Adam." He spewed out- he wasn't a religious person, very much the opposite, but knew enough about most of the major religions to draw references to them. Yeah, I'm... I'm Saul. Thanks," He grinned, taking the money and stuffing it in his coat pocket without much thought; it wasn't as if he felt bad taking three dollars from her.

[ADMIN ACCOUNT]

Lilith smiled at him. He was adorable. Like a stuffed bear, only too skinny to cuddle. "Abstract or not, you're pretty dark for someone so... cute." She shrugged her thin shoulders, stuffing her now-empty hand into one of her coat pockets, thanking whoever had thought of the idea of putting feathers into coats. She wasn't flirting, just stating a fact. Her eyes wandered up and down his bundled-up form, trying not to giggle at the sight of the thick scarf wrapped tightly around his mouth like a mask of blood. She took a sip out of her warm cup, letting the caramel taste coat her tongue. It was like drinking in warm fireplaces. "Do you write anything else? Like songs or is it just poems?" Lilith asked him softly, watching as her breath fogged in front of her face. "And is all your writing so dark, or do you write happy stuff? I like your style. Very descriptive. Almost makes me want to get some blood on my hands." A nervous giggle broke from her lips. Almost was a good word. She never really wanted to kill anything, but her job required death quite often.

Lil smirked when he blurted the meaning of her name. "Mother to all demons or something like that, yeah. My parents are weird," she told him. Her father was a hunter, and therefore pretty religious, but she ignored most of it. So what if her name was from the Bible. At least she was named after a bitter bitch who was seeking revenge or something to that manner. She'd never read that particular story. She knew that he was confused on how she knew his name; no one had even mentioned who he was in the entire cafe. She couldn't say 'Oh, I read your file.' That would bring up too many questions she wasn't prepared to answer. "You're welcome," Lilith said, smiling. Three bucks wasn't much, but she was too tired and cold to even think of trying to give him more. She pressed her lips together in thought. She needed an excuse to keep talking to him, or to follow him to his next destination. "Um, I know we, like, just left a cafe or whatever, but can I buy you a coffee? I know a really good place about a block from here, if you want." she smiled nervously at the offer. She couldn't leave him alone, not yet. And she didn't want to appear stalker-like, following him around the city. Might as well come up with an excuse, right?

[saultaylor]

"Abstract or not, you're pretty dark for someone so... cute."

Saul's face reddened. He wasn't used to getting hit on, especially not by girls... But when it did happen, it made him really uncomfortable. What was he supposed to do, just shrug them off? He appreciated the gesture, sure, but if this girl really was flirting with him (and he was thinking she was) she would have to be pretty oblivious to the truth of the matter. "Maybe she's not flirting with you," He thought to himself- "Maybe she just... thinks you're cute. Like, puppy cute. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

[/i]

"I... uh... thanks, he he replied awkwardly, shooting her a small, unsure smile. "Do you write anything else? Like songs or is it just poems? And is all your writing so dark, or do you write happy stuff? I like your style. Very descriptive. Almost makes me want to get some blood on my hands." Oh, good. Saul could talk about his work; it was a far cry from her calling him cute and making him awkward, either way. "Yeah, I'm a musician as well. Mostly solo stuff, acoustic guitar, et cetera. Mostly I'm a poet, I guess you would call it... I write short stories, too. But yeah. I write songs as well." He stuff his cold, red hands in his coat pockets, searching for the thin black gloves he always had in them. In stead of putting them on his hands, he just grabbed hold of them, warming them up, warming his hands up. he still liked to feel the chill of the cold. He just didn't want the frostbite that came with it.

"And, erm... yeah, I guess you could say most of my stuff is pretty, eh, dark. I mean... It's hard for me to write a happy song. I've tried before and it usually just sounds too sappy for me... I dunno. I guess I'm a miserable person inside and I don't know it, haha," he decided to ignore her statement about the blood on her hands; he always seemed to attract the strange ones, with his sad poems and dark eyes, and eventually just got used to it. Hopefully one of his fans (however few) wouldn't try to kill him in his sleep. She didn't seem like the type, but you could never tell... "Mother to all demons or something like that, yeah. My parents are weird," Saul nodded- he was familiar with the various legends of Lilith. they had never quite made it into the bible, but he thought the concept was interesting.

"Um, I know we, like, just left a cafe or whatever, but can I buy you a coffee? I know a really good place about a block from here, if you want." Saul bit his lip, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets as he slowed to a stop; that was definitely flirting... Though it lacked a lot of, you know, affection. She was different and yet familiar to Saul; he sort of wanted to get away from her. "I... Lilith..." He gnawed on his lip a bit more, trying to figure out the best way to word this. He decided to go for an orthodox approach; it worked in the movies. "I appreciate it and all, but... I mean... I'm gay, hun. I have a boyfriend. I'm sorry." [/font][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]