milliways_bar | (no subject)

Allie looked at the marble, and there was a most definitely a conflicted flicker of something that never quite rose into her expression, before she pulled a blue marble out of her pocket.

"Me, too."

He tucks his away again and smiles, because then she knows that George can be friends (Santi has friends, Santi has friends.)

"Friends are very nice," Allie said with a nod, and then suddenly, without warning, a smile dawned across her face. "Do you play soccer or baseball?"

He shrugs, because he will play anything if she'd like to spend a bit of time. He's not particularly good with balls and things, but everyone knows a bit of football.

"I was talking to George, during hide-n-seek and we were considering setting up a soccer game for the kids. And when I mentioned to Alex, he said baseball was better, which, of course, I had to argue because i was goalie back home, but he offered to coach a team for baseball and Rapunzel aid she would make sure all wagers on our games went to those in the bar who need help with tabs, especially kids."

Even in the dark she's flushed with excitement as she rattles on to explain it ll.

Santi thinks soccer, because he played with Ajedrez yesterday and it's easier and more people get to play at once, rather than waiting and waiting and waiting.

And thus Santi won Allie's heart entirely (....as if he had not already anyway), and she giggled.

"One more vote for soccer it is. I'm going to be putting notes up for all of it soon. So the kids can submit votes and we can have bunches of fun."

He pauses, hopefully, and looks around. Gesturing-- there's a flat space there. They could play outside.

He could... he could stay in his. Should he wear a sheet or not?

Allie raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, catching more the image and understanding of the problem than the words, though she was not one to step on toes.

"Yes?"

And he can't play in a sheet. He crashes into things. Maybe he could watch from the trees?

Or meet as many children as possible and then maybe play?

She smiles, because of how simply it's put, and because she thinks he needs to know even that it being the truth its still okay.

Allie was studying him for a moment very intently, and then she asked curiously, if quietly and maybe a little shy. "Can you think really hard about what you use to look like?"

He shakes his head.

Sometimes when you die you forget things. His mother's arms are there, but not her face. His father's smile, but not his eyes. Presences but not names. The orphanage, but not his house before.

Allie's brow wrinkles a little and she pressed her lips thinking still.

"I could make an illusion based on an image you wanted, maybe. Or we could just find you something else to wear, that covered, but would allow you to see and run without having cloth that might catch."

He starts.

How is that possible?

"It's one of the other things I do," Allie said sheepishly. "Here. I'll give you an example. Ummm. What would be a good--oh, I know!"

Allie nodded for him to look toward the tree, where suddenly there was a completely real looking facsimile of George, the younger, sitting under the tree reading comic books, mumbling the lines and laughing.

"It's not real. Well, not George."

It was a real illusion.

He claps his hands together in surprised delight. Look at that, it's so cool! She made it look just like him.

Allie smiled shyly. She hadn't shown anyone this since arriving, but he seemed the right person to show it to.

"It's why I asked if you had an image of how you used to look," she explained. "So maybe we could make up an image for you since you can't remember."

This is said nervously.

She's completely made up only a few things and that was during the time when she wasn't really in her body, she was busy being in the minds of hundreds of other people. The best ones came from them. The power of the mind was so strong.

He looks hopefully at her, and then covers his forehead with a hand. It's like...

Like this, but not dead. And he'll love her forever if she tries.

He doesn't even care if she's a witch, if she can make illusions this cool.

Allie shook her head, saying softly, "No, not a witch."

She focused on him. He was so cold and so full of pain down in the depths of the places she was looking for images. Cold like wind on windows and frost on mirrors, with so much helpless pain and then haunting anger, and those sighs, those endless sighs all around her. The echoes of a storybook closed that surrounded her.

There are flashes of images she's trying to construct. Like puzzle pieces. Reflection in water and mirrors, on windows and in fuzzy memories of self that have been tattered almost to nothing.

He gives her the sense of it, as she's looking. The glimmers of warmth, the feel of laughter through a mouth, wind in dry hair. Brown eyes, like his someone.

It starts forming around him as she looking down further and further. Pulling on the tiny veins which are joyful. The softest mummer of agreement and a voice almost singing, the way little boys laughed and jumped up and down.

The image blended into her mind, where she smoothed it's small cracks together with the hope that poured from him almost too loudly. Smooth arms and normal clothing (without any holes), brown, brown eyes, and dark brown hair, with lips made for smiling,...even if she could still hear both signing and laughing.

Allie looked a little wary but finally said, "You'll have to look in the lake since we don't have a mirror here."

She could show it to him, but she bet he'd rather see it with his eyes. Not simply with her projecting it into his mind or before him. This way it was where he'd expect to see himself.

He rushes to the waters edge, grabbing her hand as he does because she has to come too. This is possible the single second most exciting thing hat has happened to him since he died. The first is Le Chiffre taking him in, but this...

Allie followed, quick but a little reluctant, holding his hand and wishing very suddenly that it could be real. She was not positive but pretty sure she could not make it last forever. She wasn't...God.

She didn't think of him often. Rarely had a reason to wish she was more than she was....and she was an awful lot.

"Does it look okay?"

His fingers come up to touch his own alive face. And then dives for her, and catches her in a hug. Still insubstantial but wrapped up in her thing. Looking like he used to, almost.

Oh, oh, oh.

He jumped for her, and they went tumbling to the ground, with her hugging him even able to see him as both of the things he was.

And she was smiling and laughing and it makes sense, because he knows, and even if he knows, and even right now knowing doesn't matter as much, it's like....like fire works and summer and the way snow falls and desert wind blows, because they are young....and more than anything they know how to believe.