[D3 EA] Some Kind of Bliss

[Chantelle Rossette]

All around them were mortals, blissfully unaware of the magic beings that sat amongst them. Their ignorance was almost determined, waving off even the most unusual of overhead conversations. It was more fear of the Huntsman that made Chantelle mind her words. “Mais, I daresay de firs’ ting to wor’ ou’ is ‘ow long you bee’ gone. It’s de twen’y fourt of Octoba, twen’y ninetee’ today.”

[Tiffani]

Tiffani stared at Chantelle for a long moment, opening her mouth once and then closing it as if in shock. Again she looks around, her eyes darting too and fro as if paranoid that someone is chasing her - though whether it has anything to do with the Huntsmen or Arcadia, there's no way to know.

"You say ... it's twenty nineteen?" Tiff puts a hand over her chest. "I knew it's been awhile, yes but ... thirty-four years. My god, I've been gone thirty-four years?"

Tiffani seems to almost deflate like a balloon. "I don't have a life here anymore. I don't belong here now ..." Her voice trails off, her gaze becoming hollow and devoid of the spark that was there a moment ago.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle murmured, concerned, she reached over and placed a hand over Tiffani’s, “mais, dat mus’ be qui’ a shock.” The egret’s mind was turning, the young woman across from her was trying to process the reality that three decades has passed her by, a realisation that she may never truly make peace with, but with the luxury of being a step removed, Chantelle’s mind turned to more mundane matters: did the woman have somewhere to sleep? did she have money for food?

Smiling kindly, she gently squeezed Tiffani’s hand, “I kno’ you go’ a lo’ on your min’, bu’ do you ‘ave somewhere to sleep tonigh’?”

[Tiffani]

Tiffani looked down at the hand that gripped her own and a shudder ran through her body, a quivering that Chantelle was almost certain to feel. It wasn't a shudder of revulsion or fear but, rather, there was a certain ecstacy to it - the first "human" contact Tiffani has had in over three decades.

She returned her gaze to Chantelle but she didn't answer right away. It would be obvious to anyone that she was choosing carefully how to respond. Several times it looked as though she was about to say something and thought better of it and remained silent.

But after all of her thinking, after all of her attempts to make things seem better than they were, Tiffani realized dejectedly that there was really only one answer she could truly give.

"No ... no I don't. Everyone who used to know me almost certainly thinks I'm dead. And even if that were not the case, how could I approach them now and re-enter their lives looking as I did 34 years ago? No one would believe it was me. In addition, I didn't know anyone across the pond in any event."

[Chantelle Rossette]

"Mais, beb, I 'ave a lil apar'men' in de French Quarta," Chantelle offered gently, "I'm sure we can fi' one more." It would be tight, the apartment was really only meant for one, but the songbird had spent an uncounted number of years in a cramped cage, it couldn't be any worse than that.

[Tiffani]

Tiffani blinked a few times, surprised at the offer and unsure as to how to approach this. After all, she didn't really know this woman despite her apparent kind demeanor - and she wanted to say no thanks despite her appreciation for Chantelle's concern. Plus, it was still rather warm here in October - warmer than Britain was even during the height of summer.

Uh huh, which means scorpions, snakes ... did they have crocodiles here? Plus there were cops around and all she had was a British drivers' license that expired 32 years ago. How would she explain that anomaly? And ... oh no ... It suddenly dawned on Tiffani that she was in the country illegally. Was this even America? She was in trouble. Serious trouble.

"Well ... I don't know. I mean, I just wanted to know what kind of bird you were. I didn't have any expecations ... you know? I don't want you to think I approached you for charity ... okay?"

But in a small voice that definitely showed her genuine sorrow for even having to say the words, she murmured, "Okay. Okay. Alright. I'll accept your gracious offer. I suppose I should just count myself lucky that I met someone like you instead of someone ... less friendly."

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle laughed softly, it was a kind sound, happy that her offer had been accepted, "mais, it see' I'm in de 'abit of pickin' up strangas, I 'ave a young fellow stayin' wit me, too, I daresay it migh' be a lil crowd', bu' we'll ma' do." Chantelle dipped the long handled spoon into her iced mocha, scooping up cream and ice cream, and nibbled at it. She had a rather long beak, and it was incredible to think that the mortals around them only saw a young woman with a very retro hairdo, delicately spooning the treat between her full cherry-red lips.

"De worl' ca' be an 'ostile one fo' our kin', it 'elps if we loo' out fo' each oder."

[Tiffani]

At the mention of the words 'our kind,' another dawning realization hit her like a thunderclap. She truly was different - no longer quite human but stuck in a human world. It was naive and foolish to think she was just going to step back into her own life and continue living it as if nothing ever happened. Tiffani silently berated herself for thinking such nonsense.

Here she was, sitting across from an egret and talking with her as if it was just an everyday occurrance. Well, she had already figured out that normal people are not seeing an egret but another human like themselves - but she silently wondered what on earth this kind and gentle woman went through in Arcadia that transformed her into an egret. Did some idiot Fae want a pet egret? Why can't a Fae just create one then?

Her chain of thoughts caused a flash of anger that plainly showed on her face - a small scowl, a spark in the eye, a tensing of her muscles. Worried that Chantelle had noticed her change in demeanor, she forced herself to relax.

"Sorry ... I don't mean to come across as angry ... I'm not. At least, not at you. At whoever took you. At ... well, I'm sure you know who I'm angry at."

Tiffani sighed with frustration and took a long drink from her straw. "So ... another guy? Who is he? I don't mean to be nosy, but I didn't know there was another man. Wait ... are you two ... you know ... uh, romantically involved?"

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle chuckled. "I don' mean to laugh, bu' whe' you mee' T'Jack, you'll un'erstan'," there was an affection in her voice, the kind usually reserved for small children or animals. "'E's one of us, dough, a woo'crafta, cleva cleva at makin' tings. 'E didn' 'ave a place to go, eider, so 'e's stayin' wit me for a spell." The egret sipped her drink through a straw, making a satisfied sound, "I daresay you 'ave abou' ten dousan' questions, is dere anyting pressin' ones you' li' to ax?"

[Tiffani]

"Jack, huh?" Tiffani says quietly, her stormy eyes continuously shifting, watching, appearing more than a little nervous. "Well, I dare say it isn't my place to say who can stay at your place. The more, the merrier, as they say. I suppose if you trust him then ... alright."

Her drink now finished, she noisily slurps the rest through her straw then smirks a little at the terrible noise it made. But that moment of amusement only lasts for a moment before she puts her drink back on the table and fishes her wallet out of her pocket and rifles through it. A drivers' license that expired in 1987. A library card from a library 3,000 miles away. A video movie rental card. She even had 28 pounds. Yeah, pounds, not dollars. Damn.

"Survival, Chantelle. How do I survive here? I mean, I definitely appreciate your help. I do. Really. But ... you know. I can't rely on you forever. Sooner or later I'll overstay my welcome. I can't even get a job without a ... what do you call it ... social security? Yeah, that. I'm so far behind the curve that it just seems impossible to ever catch up."

"And that's just the short term stuff, you know? I ... um ... I don't even like admitting this to people but, uh, I graduated what you here in the States would call high school at age 16 and had a full scholarship to MIT. But I never made it there ... for obvious reasons. I'll never get that back. Now I'll be lucky to get a job waiting tables at a truck stop."

Tiffani runs a hand through her mass of curls and sighs again, calming herself. "Sorry ... sorry ... forget I said anything. None of those things are your worries. I'm sure you have enough of your own without me dumping mine onto you."