Butterfly [Brennan]

[Amaltheia Monarch]

Amaltheia stared at the mirror, her mouth twisted into a frown. Her eyes narrowed as her whole face broke into a terrible scowl, and with a frustrated noise and two bobby pins clamped firmly in her front teeth, she turned the bunch of hair in her hand clockwise, trying to sweep it up in a style that she could agree with. Long, lustrious brown curls spilled from between her fingertips, the edges a frosty combination of blues and indigos. Those colours she could handle, those colours she liked - the brown she most certainly did not.

  "BRNN!" she called, the pins still in her mouth, inhibiting her speech. She looked back to the open doorway into the hall, and when he didn't appear instantly at her side, she spit the pins into the sink. "Brennan!" she called again, her voice impatient.

  She released the tangle of hair in her hand, giving her arm a rest. Had styling her hair ever been this frustrating when she was... before all of this madness? She couldn't remember; didn't want to recall. "I hate it," she said to the reflection. "I hate this," she corrected, twining a thick handful of pretty brown hair to her image, as if to show it what it had done wrong.

  "What kind of Falcon has brown hair?" she demanded out loud.

[Brennan Shardae]

He thought, when he heard a muffled cry that could almost have sounded like his name, that she was calling him, but he didn't put his book down or bother calling back until she'd removed whatever it was from her mouth to call his name properly.  That was when he smiled, having assumed correctly, and proceeded to mark his page and pull himself off the couch to go see what she needed.

Hearing her complaining about her hair wasn't really what he'd expected, either.  He poked his head in to look at her and her reflection, and cocked an eyebrow up at the two dark-haired people that stared back.  His eyes were still violet, and he'd come to the understanding that wasn't going to change.  His EYES were VIOLET, and she was upset over brown hair?

"Looks like our kind," he replied smoothly, because what else was there to say?  There sure as hell wasn't anything he could do to fix it, or he wouldn't have purple freakin' eyes.  She looked down on other avians because they weren't falcons, and certainly hadn't been impressed with him being a raven, but he'd liked it.  It had been normal for his realm of reality, and this was NOT normal.  His life had been turned upside down, and he was only barely managing trying to make sense of it. 

Who would have thought dying would be so hard?

[Amaltheia Monarch]

  She studied him - literally, her eyes flickered up and down, one blue and one brown, and then she waved her hand at his general area and turned back to the mirror. "Our kind," she repeated to herself. "Our kind," she said again, mimicking him. "YOUR kind," she finally roared, literally ripping strands of her hair out. She flung her arms for a second, and then snapped out with her forearm, taking out the small box of hair ribbons, coated elastics, barrettes, and bobby pins, sending small pieces all over the light blue tile of the bathroom floor.

  Moody didn't even begin to describe it. At least she wasn't reaching out with her magic and trying to destroy planets or cause people to combust - not that she could, but it wasn't for a lack of trying, one could safely assume. "I'm not pretty anymore!" she shrieked, curling her long fingers down as she balled up her fists. She wanted to punch the mirror, but she shocked herself when she saw the hair she'd torn out, still clenched in her fingers, and stopped what she was doing.

  She was silent after that outburst, staring at the mess for a moment with her wide, wild eyes. Theia was a ticking time bomb, that would never change - that Brennan didn't react as much as he used to was a testament to his sainthood, however much he denied it in favour of simply not reacting to give her no ammunition. Her anger caved into sadness as her eyes became red-rimmed. She put her hand to her mouth and just looked at him, at his placid features and raised brows, blinking at her, staring at her with his calm, expectant stare, as if to say, 'Are you done having your tantrum yet?'

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm still trying - trying to get used to this. I'm not being very fair," she admitted. She looked at him, leaning against the doorframe so that she was very nearly leaning against him. After another pause, she let her weak smile waver to a grimace. "I really ripped out a good chunk," she said, holding out her hands. It wasn't terrible, but it did sting quite a bit - she had to learn to control her impulses.

  Of course, that's what had started all this. Theia's impulsive behaviour.

[Brennan Shardae]

It may have been a true testament to his sainthood that he didn't flinch away or react in an indignant manner, but he didn't.  He knew better, having had a few instances where he was shocked by her reactions and took it personally, and he'd come to understand that none of it was personal.  If she lashed out like that, it wasn't truly to hurt him, but to make herself feel better about something.  He simply waited it out, and hoped that her tantrums and venting made her feel a little better.  Usually, she'd shock herself into calming down, or wear her anger down to nothing again.  It was spurts, and they didn't often last long.

He also wasn't going to argue with her, so when she blamed him for the 'our kind/your kind' thing, he merely stared at her and waited.  Frankly, if anyone was to blame, it was Aristide for doing it or Amaltheia for asking him to, and most certainly not the dead guy who hadn't had any input at all until it was over, but who was he to point that out?  Arguing with her would only upset her more, however, so he didn't.  True to form, she'd calmed down after a short moment, her eyes still wide and wild as she regarded her hair, and he knew that it was safe again once she'd apologized with that soft tone of hers.  That was much better.

For an avian (former avian?), he was getting surprisingly used to the more casual touching she did, like leaning against the doorframe so that she was touching him, and it didn't seem quite as scandalous anymore.  It was just a touch, with nothing special behind it, no hidden meanings and intentions, and he'd been working at not overreacting.  Theia was helpful in that, since she was all for breaking his non-falcon tendencies, anyway.  In the same token, he was trying not to be as frustrating as he knew he could be for her, and to not make a big production over her hair, or his own eyes and falcon form.  She wasn't the only one still getting used to it, and he had a LOT to deal with, but he was trying.  Being a burden had never been his style.

"It's fine," he told her easily, straightening up a little without breaking the contact she'd established (part of his working at being comfortable with everything), and instead made to look at the 'damage'.  "I don't think it'll be at all noticeable, and you are beautiful, blonde or brunette.  You don't give yourself enough credit."

Actually, he liked her better brunette, but he wasn't going to say that.  Blonde made him think of Avalon, who he loved and probably would always love, but that was a messed up situation.  Brunette was something all her own, and he'd come to enjoy that when her hair was spread out around her, it didn't make him think of his wife and, technically, widow. 

[Amaltheia Monarch]

 Theia was the polar opposite of Avalon in almost every way imaginable. Like right now - what Avian would speak down about themselves in hopes of receiving a compliment from another? Not that it was Theia's aim, but Brennan was always to be counted on to tell her she was beautiful, and when she didn't feel like it, she'd let him know it was time to come 'round with it. She smiled a little at him, leaning forward so that her head rested on his shoulder. She was so childish sometimes that it must have made him grit his teeth, but that smile and those batting lashes certainly did try to make up for it.

  "Think so?" she asked. When he nodded, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then glided past him down the hall. And just like that - the storm had passed. Another potentially explosive situation was avoided, and Theia was back to normal.

  "What do you want for lunch?" she called, adjusting the straps of the champagne coloured silk top she wore as she moved. Theia's wardrobe was all like that - soft, shiny, comfortable, and low-backed. She looked like she was in a permanent state of expensive, comfortable wardrobe relaxation. It was a wonder she didn't just wear a toga half of the time.

  "I got fresh fruit from the market yesterday. I had to haggle with that old Japanese man for a few minutes to get a good deal - I almost just blasted him with my magic, but I don't think it would have improved my chances of getting the best bunch of grapes," she said with a laugh as she pulled open a drawer to remove the cutting board.

[Brennan Shardae]

Yes, Theia really was Avalon's polar opposite, and probably the only things they had in common were that they were both female and both had wings.  Otherwise, they were exact opposites.  Brennan was still coping with having to change everything he knew about dealing with women, since the woman he'd set out to please constantly was nothing like the one he was spending all of his time with currently.  Fortunately, Theia didn't leave much in the way of questions regarding what she expected of him, and that was actually fairly refreshing.  He'd learned what to do in any situation because he'd been with Avalon all their lives, but he was picking up Theia's requirements incredibly quickly.  She was also higher maintenance, though.

Like, right then.  Avalon had never required him to tell her she was beautiful.  He still did, but she'd never seemed to doubt it.  Some might have even said she was vain, since she knew she was beautiful, that it was a fact and not opinion, and that was that.  That didn't mean she didn't like being reminded, but it hadn't been an issue.  With Theia, especially with what that voodoo man had done with her hair, it became a necessity sometimes to inform her that he thought she was beautiful, and ensure that she believed it.  It kept her happy, and he knew it was because she really didn't like the change in hair color any.  Personally, he liked it, and having been dark-haired all his life, he didn't see the issue.  Of course, she absolutely loved his eyes and wings, not to mention the dark falcon that he'd become, and he would have been quite fine with what he'd been born with.  In ways, he'd have preferred it, much like Theia preferred her blonde hair.  He just wasn't as loud about it, between his own quieter personality and the fact that she'd have reacted much more than he did over her tantrums. 

The upset seemed to have been dealt with sufficiently, so when she asked him for confirmation regarding what he'd already said about her being beautiful, he had no problem nodding and smiling over the peck on the cheek she gave him.  Crisis averted, she was off to thinking about lunch and the old Japanese man she always seemed to be at odds with over fruit.  He'd asked her, after watching the interaction himself, why she didn't go to someone else, and she'd looked at him like he was insane, then spent the next week getting fruit from another place.  He'd calmly asked her if she wouldn't mind going back to the Japanese man, and she'd been pleased with her victory.  The man had the sweetest, ripest fruit around, and Brennan no longer blamed her for her haggling.

"Knowing him, it most certainly wouldn't have," he agreed with her, following her into the kitchen.  His cooking skills were still pretty pathetic, but he was picking things up.  At the very least, he usually followed her in and watched, just in case he could absorb any information on the subject.  "I have no preferences."

Actually, he did, but they'd cleared that up early on.  She had a basic understanding of what he liked and didn't care for, and he had an understanding that if she cooked it, he was at least going to try it.  It wasn't always a successful venture, but it was one that usually worked.  There were things he'd have never thought he liked that he now enjoyed, so he couldn't argue with it.

[Amaltheia Monarch]

It was just fine with Amaltheia that she was Avalon's opposite; she wouldn't like to remind Brennan any more than she already did of his not-so-long-lost love. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she literally juggled a few fruits in her hand - a peach, a plum, and a pear. She finally tossed one over her head, turning around with a snap of her heel to see him catch it. Brennan had gotten acclimated to her strange behaviour like that as well - she'd toss things at him, and then she'd be surprised when he was shocked and he let it glide past him or hit him. He'd stopped letting that happen when a strawberry busted against the wall, though.

  He'd even begun to do it back - he'd caught her in the face with a tennis ball she'd thrown at his back, and she'd laughed so hard she'd started to cry. His concern was touching until he realized she was faking pain, and then he'd hit her with some of her throw pillows from the couch. She really enjoyed egging on childish behaviour; it made him look alive, not so stiff, not so... Avian.

  "You know, you're going to have to talk to her eventually," she said off-handedly, sliding against the counter and perching a foot up, crooking her knee like a flamingo. "It isn't that I relish the idea, but you do need to give her closure." She didn't smile at him then, but bit into her plum, watching him carefully with her magic-stained eyes. It was always hard to tell her motives, whether she had a good point or not.