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Post by rainier on Sept 27, 2008 8:01:16 GMT -5
It was only after Caspar had been struggling to find words for a short time did he realize how he must have come off to the girl, sputtering and stammering like an idiot. How must she feel now, with his reaction being so offensive? Did a kiss mean the same thing in America as it did in Amsterdam? He had no way of knowing; the only kisses he'd ever received were from his family, mostly his father and sisters. Perhaps, like how Americans viewed an embrace as something as normal as a wave, a kiss was like a handshake. He was confused, really. He thought he'd gotten American culture fairly figured out: don't stare, get to the point, always be moving quick enough. But there was always something that gave Caspar culture shock that none of his books could tell him how to deal with.
Like now.
Basie looked almost as mortified as him. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, which seemed to be a habit of hers, and Caspar was silent for a long moment trying to slow his racing mind. He didn't know what to say to her at all, because he didn't know if she expected him to say anything, or if he was required to say anything. He didn't know any of it, and it was maddening to know how brilliant he was, and yet not know how to react to this simple gesture. A simple gesture that was one of the most complex...oh, verdomd. He couldn't even begin to fathom it. Perhaps he would ask the leader of Queens, Jordan, about it later. Jordan might laugh and say something like, "And they call you the Professor?", but Caspar was almost sure he would help him if he asked for it. But now...
What in the...?
Basie stood, and Caspar was almost sure she was ready to leave. He was about to say something to stop her from going, but then he gasped aloud as she plunged into the water below the dock. Her launch made the dock sway dangerously, and Caspar clung to the post to avoid going in the water. His eyes were wide as he looked about desperately for anyone who had seen, anyone who could help. She hadn't wanted to drown, had she? Oh, he must have offended her so! How should he know rejecting a kiss meant such a great offense? He looked into the water, frightened out of his wits, and cried weakly, "Basie...? Basie!" He knew he should have gone after her, but...
He couldn't swim.
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Post by brooklynlove on Sept 30, 2008 16:58:48 GMT -5
It was as if she heard the splash from a distance as the shock of the icy water shot through her body, numbing her limbs. The plunge was deeper than expected, the waves stronger than they had appeared looking down, and a wave of panic swept through her as she kicked her legs violently, searching for a way to air. No idea which was was up, she opened her eyes weide, her elbows and knees locked in cold fear, feeling the burning sting of the salt. Her throat was aching for air now, her chest heaving, as Basie strained to catch any glimpse of...anything. Just as her head was beginning to rush, she spotted it: a small glimmer of light to her left. Flailing about desperately, she kicked hard, letting her body float buoyantly toward what she now knew was the way out.
With one final kick, Basie broke through the surface, her senses returning as the air rushed through her. Oh, glorious air! Basie couldn't get enough, and breathed enormous, greedy gulps, letting the numbness fade away. It took a moment for her complete consiousness to kick in, and she then realized that there was no bright sun beaming down, only slight darkness. Looking up, she saw knotted, splintering wood just inches from her face, planks of wood set closely together. The dock. Now Basie remembered. She knew Caspar must be standing just above her, knew he must think her a fool. Possibly a dead fool; he hadn't seen her surface. As embarrassed as she might be to face him, she wasn't cruel. She couldn't just allow him to think she had drowned.
Mustering her courage, she swam out from underneath the dock, her arms still slightly tingly, and placed both hands on the dock above. Still treading water with her legs, she grimaced, pulling herself up onto the dock. Basie got to her knees, her wet hair plastered to the side of her face, and her dress soaked. She wrung out the hem, ran a hand through her sopping dark ringlets, and looked up dubiously at Caspar, a slight smile forming on her mouth as she spoke, "Don't worry. I'm alive."
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Post by rainier on Oct 5, 2008 9:48:19 GMT -5
Caspar stared into the murky water; he couldn't see Basie now and was extremely frightened. What if she had drowned? Worse, what if she had intended to drown all along? Dear Lord, worse still, what if she didn't want to drown and had? He glanced over his shoulder, looking for someone to help, but all he saw was the man who had antagonized him, what seemed weeks ago. It was a long time before he heard anything, and by that point he knew that no person could last under water for that long. He had no idea what to do...should he say something to someone? If he left, what if she surfaced and needed help and he wasn't there?
What, exactly, did one do when someone drowned before their eyes?
He suddenly heard something to his right, and snapped his gaze toward it so fast his neck hurt. Slapping a hand to his aching neck, he looked on with wonder as he saw Basie, pulling herself up over the edge of the dock. He watched, stupefied, knowing he should help her but too shocked to move, as she finally go to her knees and said calmly, "Don't worry. I'm alive." Caspar sighed in relief, and he hurried to her side, dropping to his knees in kind and placing his hands on her shoulders, as if testing her reality. Had she really been able to stay under water for that long and still surface alive? This went against everything he had read in his books. He looked Basie in the face, his eyes wide and alight, and whispered, "You are an angel..."
((Shortness. Sorry.))
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Post by brooklynlove on Oct 10, 2008 22:48:46 GMT -5
The slight breeze felt cold now as Basie sat shivering on the dock, waiting for her new friend's response. She searched Casar's blue eyes for any hint of his thoughts, but soon abandoned her attempt when another chill swept through her. She clamped her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering. Caspar had snapped around so fast at the sound of her voice that Basie was beginning to feel bad about not explaining herself more thoroughly.
By this time, Caspar had made his way to where she sat and was now kneeling in front of her, his eyes wide, his hands on her shoulders as if trying to convince himself that she was alive and solid. Basie shivered. The warmth of his hands felt nice in contrast to the cold and wet of her current state, and she hoped he wouldn't move them just yet.
Basie brought her eyes up to meet Caspar's and as she studied his face, she was surprised to see that he wore a puzzled expression that was, at the same time, almost adoring. He looked back at her calmly, and she felt a little uncomfortable. She wasn't sure why. Her soaking dress was still clinging to her wet skin, and she suddenly realized she must look absolutely horrid. The salt burned in her eyes.
"You are an angel..."
She heard his whisper and turned her gaze back to his, feeling his hands resting heavily on her shoulders. An angel? Basie felt herself draw involuntarily back. Yes, she'd heard him say it before, but at the earnest sound in his voice, she wasn't quite sure how to react. To be sure, no other boy had ever referred to her as an angel, much less looked her in the eyes and told her so. Basie felt the color creeping into her cheeks. She was flattered. Very flattered. On the other hand, how was one supposed to react to such a compliment?
Brushing a stray hair aside, Basie bit her lip, searching for words. Finally, she stammered, "Oh...I-I-I mean, thank you? I'm sure I don't know what you mean..." It wasn't the right thing to say, she knew. But the words wouldn't come. She thought now that perhaps she understood how Caspar had felt when she had been so bold as to kiss him a short while ago. Basie offered him a weak smile, and placed her hand gently on one of his, still on her shoulder, and patted it reassuringly. Then, rearranging her wet, heavy skirts, she found her feet, still smiling.
"Caspar," she began, savoring the sound of his name once again. "What was that exactly? What I caught, I mean. I'd like to see it..."
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Post by rainier on Oct 13, 2008 17:59:03 GMT -5
"Oh...I-I-I mean, thank you? I'm sure I don't know what you mean..."
He paused for a moment, and then smiled slowly. Perhaps she was not an angel, then. To become so flustered. But he thought for a moment. "Well...I suppose..." It crossed his mind to return the gesture she had given him previously. It must have indicated some kind of appreciation or friendship, then, right? Timidly and with more awkwardness than he would have liked, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. He pulled away after a few seconds, hoping he didn't do anything wrong, a small, shy smile on his face. He felt like she should say something, but could think of nothing to say. Was there a book that could tell him? He doubted it.
"Caspar, what was that exactly? What I caught, I mean. I'd like to see it..."
His eyes lit up. "Certainly!" he said zealously, and dug into his pocket. Pulling out the wooden chip, he held it out to her, the engraving facing up in his palm. "My father, you see...he was a carpenter in Amsterdam. And when he finished making furniture, he would have scraps and scraps left. So he made these for each of my siblings and I. He engraved them. No matter how long the message, his words were made perfect. He was a good carpenter." He pointed out the exactness of the letters. "His message for me is something I have remembered forever. Kennis is macht. In English, Knowledge is strength, or power. Here..." he pressed it into her hand. "Have a look."
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Post by brooklynlove on Oct 15, 2008 19:48:31 GMT -5
It took a moment for Basie to realize what was happening. She remembered getting to her feet a moment ago, shivering and flustered, but now as she felt Caspar leaning toward her, her mind went blank. She knew she should avert her gaze, that it was rude to stare, but as his face neared hers, she noticed once again the blueness of his eyes and found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. She felt Caspar's lips press lightly against her mouth, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest as she noticed their softness. Stopping just short of her first instinct to draw quickly away, Basie dropped her gaze and, without much realization of what she was doing, allowed herself to kiss him back ever so gently.
When Caspar pulled timidly back a few seconds later, Basie knew the color must be creeping into her cheeks. A small smile had formed on her lips and she found that she didn't much mind the silence that followed. She watched his blue eyes sparkle at the sound of her question, and he dug out the small chip she had seen earlier. Instantly curious, she leaned closer to examine the engraving she hadn't noticed before.
"My father, you see...he was a carpenter in Amsterdam. And when he finished making furniture, he would have scraps and scraps left. So he made these for each of my siblings and I. He engraved them. No matter how long the message, his words were made perfect. He was a good carpenter. His message for me is something I have remembered forever. Kennis is macht. In English, Knowledge is strength, or power."
So that's what the words meant. Although the letters were familiar, their placings seemed strange and out of place, and Basie realized that she knew next to nothing about the boy who stood beside her. His accent, although foreign, sounded beautiful to her, and she brought her gaze to his face.
Here...have a look."
Caspar pressed the chip into her palm and Basie once again felt the warmth of his hands. She brushed her fingertips lightly over the engraving, getting the sense as she felt its smooth wooden surface that Caspar was very far away from home. She was sure his father would be extremely proud of his son, wherever he was. She sighed and looked into his face.
"I'm far away from home, too."
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Post by rainier on Oct 20, 2008 18:17:53 GMT -5
He kissed her, and he almost thought for a moment that she was doing the same back. Good, he thought, I must have been right. He pulled back, and was surprised to see her eyes shining. He gave her a blithe smile. "That. It means friend, yes? Like handshake, yes?" His language skills seemed to have receded, but he was fine with it. His head was spinning, and he had to think of the word in English. What was it? Kus. He didn't know the translation. "You call it...what? In Dutch, it's kus."
"I'm far away from home, too."
He studied her face for a moment. He had known she was beautiful, and he could see the intelligent spark in her eyes that everyone always told him was in his. But he never realized something underlying in her expression: she was lost, almost, and alone. He asked her cautiously, "Where is your family?"
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Post by brooklynlove on Oct 21, 2008 23:20:32 GMT -5
Basie was silent for a moment, her mind tripping wildly in every direction as she struggled to formulate an adequate answer. Such a simple question, and yet she could think of no simple answer. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure who her family was at present. Her mother was gone, her father still in Boston, and--did Ewan even count? She supposed so; it felt somehow wrong to exclude her father's friend when he'd been so kind to her, offering her a home and a means of escape from the wagging tongues she'd faced following her mother's scandal. She was thankful for that. Basie turned to Caspar and finally spoke, "My family...well, I don't know where they are. Except for one. I live with my father's friend, Ewan, here in New York, and as far as I know, my father is still at home in Boston. And my mother...Mère went away and I don't know where she is."
Basie finished in a small voice, not wanting to delve into details. She hoped Caspar wouldn't ask. It had been a long time since she'd spoken of Helena and the words left not only a bitter taste on her tongue, but also a surprising wave of hurt she hadn't realized would still exist. She moved closer to Caspar.
The breeze ruffled a strand of hair and she lifted a hand to tuck it absently behind her ear, letting her thoughts drift. She'd answered his question, groped through what she hadn't wanted to say, but now that she was finished, she found she could've kept on. She almost wanted to tell him more, to spill everything she'd been holding back for so long. Never once had she brought up anything dealing with her mother, and Ewan was careful not to mention anything that held potential of upsetting her, but Basie realized as she sat pondering the things she had just spoken to the blond boy beside her that she hadn't dealt with the pain. No, it remained as hot and searing as ever, deeply rooted. Basie turned to look up at Caspar, searching for the blue of his eyes, and she realized that she had unknowingly allowed her fingers to creep to his sleeve. This time, she didn't move them. It was then that she remembered something Caspar had said before he'd asked about her family. The thought of answering made her squirm, and she was suddenly afraid that if she answered truthfully, she would scare him off. That was the last thing she wanted. Still, what else could she tell him?
"Caspar?" She paused, a little dubious about what she was about to say.
"In English, you call it a 'kiss'. And yes, it means friend, and sometimes it can be a bit like a handshake, too. But not always." Oh, this was difficult to say. "When people kiss on the mouth, it...well, it usually means something a little bit more."
Basie ended uncertainly and dropped her gaze, realizing uncomfortably that her fingers still lightly clutched his sleeve.
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Post by rainier on Nov 8, 2008 21:14:29 GMT -5
"My family...well, I don't know where they are. Except for one. I live with my father's friend, Ewan, here in New York, and as far as I know, my father is still at home in Boston. And my mother...Mère went away and I don't know where she is."
Caspar nodded, understanding exactly what it was like. "My father died after we come to America. The blood-and-coughing sickness. My mother went away, too. She was mean, an egregious woman. She left us when I was very young. I only remember her screaming." Caspar had only a few memories of his mother, and none of them were positive. He knew that she was unhappy with a pauper's life, but he couldn't fathom leaving his family because of it. He didn't miss her, though. How could he? "You lived in Boston? Where is that?"
"Caspar? In English, you call it a 'kiss'. And yes, it means friend, and sometimes it can be a bit like a handshake, too. But not always. hen people kiss on the mouth, it...well, it usually means something a little bit more."
At first he didn't understand. Why would she suddenly be so embarrassed telling him this? What was more than a friend? A good friend, a best friend, or else... A ruby blush came over him, and he realized that he had given her the American equivalent of a lover's kiss. English failed him, and he stammered out words, hardly aware that he was speaking Dutch instead of English. "Het spijt me zo. Vergeef me. Dat is niet wat ik bedoelde. Ik wist niet dat..." He shifted himself away from her, and shifted his weight, preparing himself to leave. Carefully he switched to English again. "Forgive me. I did not know. Do you want I leave now?"
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Post by brooklynlove on Nov 14, 2008 19:35:45 GMT -5
She had no idea how many minutes had passed, how many short breaths she'd gulped since she'd finished her awkward explanation. As the seconds continued to tick unmercifully by, Basie wondered if Caspar had understood, and fought the urge to lift her gaze, to scrutinize the expressive blue eyes she knew would reveal what she wanted to know. But she didn't; she would know soon enough if he'd understood. And if he hadn't, she certainly wasn't going to repeat it.
"Het spijt me zo. Vergeef me. Dat is niet wat ik bedoelde. Ik wist niet dat..."
Lost in her thoughts, the sound of his voice came as a shock and the distant echo of the words she'd last spoken died away. Her eyes jerked to his involuntarily. The startled, rushed manner of his words, foreign though they were, was proof of his realization, and as he spoke, Basie felt his body shifting, the warmth of his nearness fading. The edge of his sleeve slid from between her fingers and it took every ounce of restraint within her to keep from clutching at it desperately. Oh, why had she answered his question?
"Forgive me. I did not know. Do you want I leave now?"
His flustered speech became suddenly understandable, and Basie brought her eyes to his face, feeling sure that he must be disgusted with her. She'd accepted his kiss, knowing full well its meaning, and now...It was then that his words registered. Forgive him? Forgive him for what? For sitting here with her, talking with her, befriending her, for kissing her? She'd never been kissed in her life, and now this boy felt he had done something wrong? Her face fell.
Caspar had begun to edge away from her, and as she remembered his last words, she wondered how she could convince him to stay. Taking a small, timid step forward, Basie faced him, her green eyes searching his expression fervently. There weren't many words she knew that could express what she wanted to say. Then, tossing aside all thought of caution, she threw her arms around his waist, too much in earnest to remember how wet she still was. Letting her dark ringlets fall into her eyes, she rested her cheek lightly on Caspar's chest.
"No," she murmured, lifting her head slightly to look up at him. "I don't want you to leave."
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Post by rainier on Nov 17, 2008 19:29:56 GMT -5
Caspar stood in front of her, stiff and awkward. Anything. Anything to get away from her gaze, so strange. Anything to get away from her dark, beautiful colors, in such stark contrast to his own. Anything to get away from her compassion, her kindness and warmness, her need for a friend and her knowing that he needed something just like what she needed. Anything to get away, now, as soon as he could. He could walk away and never have to suffer through the warmth of her smile and the hopefulness that devoured him from the inside out when he was near. Hope for a friend...the first person he could truly know, since his siblings left him. He didn't want that hope. He was terrified of it becoming false, of something so wonderful crumbling into dust before his eyes and finding that he had only betrayed himself. He couldn't. No.
She took a step toward him. Skittish, he flinched involuntarily. His eyes locked with hers, and he wanted so badly to move away. He was terrified of what her gaze told him, how it searched his face. A moment later, he found that she was holding him around the waist. He gasped and stiffened considerably, his arms hovering in the air around her form. "No," she murmured, "I don't want you to leave." Moments passed, and slowly he lowered his hands: one rested at her shoulders, the other on her head. The gesture he had made so surprised him that he stepped back from her and looked her in the face again. "I fear I must go," he said honestly. "Dark is coming. I shall not find my way to Queens in the dark." He glanced at the setting sun, as if to prove his point. But then he looked back at Basie, and held her gaze, taking her hands in his. "I hope you see me again, Basie. You are truly--someone--nice. Special." He awkwardly pronounced it like speesh-sheal.
He leaned in and kissed her three times on alternating cheeks, a Dutch farewell. "Vaarwel, mijn vriend. Goodbye, my friend." He smiled to himself, his eyes warm as they rested on her, and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Mijn vriend en mijn engel." Lingering for only a moment, he dropped her hands, and turned, heading back up the dock and hoping he could find his way back to the Queens lodging house before night fell. In all that had happened, he would not realize until very late that night that he had left his wooden chip with Basie.
((Cute, right? Haha, we could totally have them meet again. I really thought that this little escapade was pretty exhausted, though. And now they have an excuse to meet with each other. ;D Let me know when and where you want to continue!))
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Post by brooklynlove on Nov 19, 2008 22:32:17 GMT -5
As the sound of her words trailed off, silence descended again, and for a moment, Basie feared her response had been too strong. The poor boy must have been completely overwhelmed by now what with everything she had put him through that day. And still, as Basie waited, not even sure of what she was waiting for, the silence that engulfed them was no longer threatening. She glanced at the darkening sky, watched as the sun began to sink, its diminishing light extinguishing all her anxieties along with it. Beneath her cheek, she felt the gentle rise and fall of Caspar's chest, the steady beat of his heart so close to hers, and caught her breath as warm arms folded suddenly around her. Burying her face in his shirt, Basie blinked back tears, feeling a contentment wash over her that she had never before felt, and it was in that moment that she knew what she'd been waiting for.
As Caspar drew back, she stood watching him, her thoughts peaceful with some new sense of rejuvenation.
"I fear I must go. Dark is coming. I shall not find my way to Queens in the dark. I hope you see me again, Basie. You are truly--someone--nice. Special."
She felt his hands find hers, noticing how brightly his blue eyes shone in the light of the setting sun. She hoped she would see him again, too. Hoped with all her heart. Once more, Caspar leaned in, kissing her cheeks in farewell, and Basie felt a small blush creep into her neck as she remembered the events of the day. She smiled, pushing the thought away. None of that mattered now. She knew her friend didn't mind.
"Vaarwel, mijn vriend. Goodbye, my friend. Mijn vriend en mijn engel."
His eyes still resting warmly on her, Caspar smiled and Basie smiled back, feeling that there was nothing at all wrong in the world. Even as, with one last squeeze, he released her hands and turned, disappearing into the cold night air, Basie found that her newfound contentment remained. She smiled. Still saying nothing, she lowered herself once more to the dock and swung her legs over the side, feeling the somehow pleasant icy sting of the water on her feet and pondering the silence. Placing a small hand onto the splintered panel of the dock beneath her, she felt a jolt of surprise as her fingers encountered something smooth. Smooth and small. She glanced down.
Picking up the small engraved chip, Basie was careful not to let it drop between the dock's wooden slats, and looking out once again across the waters of the harbor, she brushed it gently to her lips, offering up a prayer of thanks for the friend she'd so badly needed. She knew as she nestled the chip safely into her palm that this boy, this wonderful boy, would turn up again someday.
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