sylviedevereux | sorry seems to be the hardest word [Open]

She spends the entire flight wringing her hands. As soon as the plane took off she regretted her decision and wished she was anywhere but strapped into her seat heading towards the United States. She's never been to the USA, and on some level, that's exciting, she supposes, but on the main level, oh mon dieu, what am I doing? Four years ago, she said that she was done with this, with him, with everything that kept tying her down to that mess of a life. She said that she was done, but here she is, flying straight into the eye of the storm.

She comes armed with more books on the occult than she thought she'd ever be able to find. Her local librarian had thought she was losing it a little with how many books she had gathered, but she had to know everything she could before she faced him again. Once, he had told her what he was, and despite the love and the gorgeous life they had shared, the whole idea had stricken icy fear down her spine. She had thought she couldn't get tangled up in that mess again; she had wondered, briefly, if he had been one of them, sent to find her.

In her rational mind, Sylvie knows it was all a gut reaction, that two years of trusting Shea Cooper with everything she had should have taught her better than to doubt him at a second's notice. She'll regret making that decision until the day she dies, and this is some kind of atonement for it, like she can forgive herself for throwing away her happy ending if she just sees him one more time.

The plane touches down and she's in a cab heading for Siren Cove before she's really ready for it, and then the cottage she'd organised online is staring her in the face and this is real. She gives herself long enough to unlock the door and put her bags down before she grabs her handbag and heads straight back out the front door. If she's going to deal with this, the first thing she needs to go and find is a bottle of wine, and maybe by tomorrow she'll have steeled herself to track him down.

ooc: hi, this is sylvie. quick intro post for her before I have to hiatus :( catch her around town, or maybe be her neighbour?

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That's fair, and she sits down abruptly, pushed by the force of his words and suddenly not caring if she's inviting herself to sit on his furniture. She takes a sip of her wine to steady herself as she perches on the edge of a wooden deck setting and oh, this was such a bad idea.

She bites her tongue on an apology and tries to take a breath to start explaining, start reliving. She feels a little like she's going to throw up as she remembers why she left and ruined this whole thing between them. All she can see are flashes, her father begging her, cruel eyes staring her down, a ziptie cutting into her skin and she can't breathe. She remembers how he had taken her air, how he'd sucked the breath tight out of her lungs and her hand tightens around her glass.

"You're not the first witch I've met." Even the word is hard to say. "You know what... What bad shape I was in when we met. I-" she stammers, knows the rest is stupid, knows still now that Shea would never hurt her, but the fear had been too real then, clutching at her like a vice and refusing to let go. "I couldn't go back to that, I was so s-scared."

She's looking at the ground because she can't look at him, she'll look anywhere so long as it's not at him. "Sorcières," she grits her teeth. "You deserve better, and I should have told you. But I couldn't go through that again..."

She knows she's being vague as all hell and once, she could have told him anything, but she's lost that right and she doesn't know how much he needs to hear the details.

She trails off, and he stares at her expectantly until he realizes she's done. She's just done, that's all she offers, and he tries and fails to hold back the scoff that leaves his throat. Coop rubs at the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing because he's pretty sure he can feel a goddamn headache coming on, and he sets his wine glass down on the poolside table so he can rest his head in his hands. He does know what bad shape she'd been in and for a long time, he'd been afraid to get close to her for it. Coop's always been a no muss, no fuss kind of guy. No complications, no strings, no trouble, that's what he's always been about and it's what he'd gone back to after Sylvie had left.

This is compicated. This is both muss and fuss, and he scrubs at his face with a groan. "So you're telling me that you left because I was a witch and waited so long to tell you, but you already knew that witches exist and waited another four years to tell me?" He takes a deep breath, knowing damn well that getting worked up right now isn't going to help either of them, and he straightens his back as he starts to pace. It's a slow pace, not a harried one because he'd really rather not start acting like a complete lunatic. As frustrated as he is, he doesn't want to scare her. He's not someone she'd ever have to be afraid of, the thought that she would have looked at him after finding out what he is and thought...

Coop shakes that off, running a hand through his hair as he comes to a stop in front of her. He wants to know more, he doesn't want to know more, he doesn't know what he wants. "Whatever happened to you, I'm sorry it happened. I truly am. But it's been more than four years, and I-- I don't know what you want me to say. Why explain now, after it's already fucking over, after-- after everything?"

Sylvie watches him pace and listens to him speak and quietly starts wondering when the soonest plane back to Paris will be. She can't even comprehend what a mistake it was coming here, and she can't stand the way he keeps looking at her, half derision and half pissed off.

"Je ne sais pas," she starts, feeling stupid and helpless. "I shouldn't have. Je vous ai manqué." She says the last quietly, wants to punch herself. "I won't stay, if you..." She'll leave again first thing in the morning, she promises herself. She doesn't know what she had expected coming back here, but this isn't helping anyone.

She says it, those words that he half wishes she'd have kept to herself while the other half of him wishes he didn't want to say right back to her. He won't, he can't because if he does, Coop doesn't know how far deep he'll end up in this. If he's honest with himself, there's never going to be a day that he stops loving her completely. She's the first person he'd ever genuinely wanted to build a life with and having her here is so utterly confusing that he doesn't even know how he feels anymore. He's still angry, still so frustrated that she'd walked back into his life here, but in spite of that, he doesn't want her to leave.

"No, don't go."

He says it before he can stop himself, and he sighs heavily as he drops down onto one of the pool chairs. "I mean, you can do whatever you want, obviously. But I just... need some time. I need to get used the idea that you're here because right now, it's just like... I don't know. Can you give me time?"

She's a little stunned that he doesn't kick her out then and there, and she blinks at her glass for a few minutes before she finally, painstakingly looks up at him. The sight of him makes her throat catch and she swallows hard.

"Okay. Of course." She doesn't know how much time she can waste laying low in her little cottage before she goes mad from boredom but she owes him this, and it's more than she expected, so she'll do it. She'll hide out until he's ready to see her around town, if that ever happens.

"You won't hear a peep out of me until you want to," she promises, and offers him a smile as best she can. She can't stand how much she longs for four years ago.

sorry seems to be the hardest word [Open]

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