A Chemistry of Gold (and maybe diamonds) : Julien & Fiona
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Thread: A Chemistry of Gold (and maybe diamonds) : Julien & Fiona

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    A Chemistry of Gold (and maybe diamonds) : Julien & Fiona
    <center>

    i want you to remember
    a love so full it could send us all ways
    i want you to surrender
    all my feelings rose today
    and I want you to remain
    the power of children can amaze
    i'll try not to complain
    i know that's a pisser, baby

    i want you to remember
    everything you said
    every driven word
    like a hammer, hell, to my head

    the chemicals between us
    the army of achievers
    lying in this bed
    the chemicals displaced
    there is no lonelier face
    than lying in this bed . . .

    </center>

    ( bush : the chemicals between us )

    <font color="#000000" size="1">[ August 02, 2006 08:23 PM: Message edited by: a xxxholic's affair. ]</font>

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    "Why aren't you a demanding little minx," he said in a sophisticate's drawl, the slightest hint of a sneer. He dropped his coat on a stool, immediately opening the refrigerator. It was mostly stacked with fruit and cheese, typical wino appetizers. He ignored them and opened that "stolen" (more like borrowed) bottle of champagne.

    "Demanding? Heavens no! Suggesting." She corrected with a smile as she watched from across the room to see where he was going. A bit curious as well. Fiona, while he rummaged, made the couch her own by testing how well it made her back feel. Stretching out as if she owned the thing, she brought her hands behind her head and her ankles crossing.

    "You know, I never thought I'd be saying this, but I'm glad that you aren't who I thought you were."

    "Really? How so?" She tilted her head back to peer at him with questioning eyes. He didn't prefer 'normal' people? Fiona figured that he would get tired of criminals. Then again, that was just how Fiona felt most times.

    "Well, as hard as it may be, being a man of my stature..." He jokingly started, handing her a wine glass of champagne. "I apologize, there was no flute glasses in the kitchen..." He took a taste of the champagne, and nodded, obviously pleased.

    Fiona sat up for proper posture when he came back, though she always had the habit of crossing one ankle under the opposite thigh. "Thanks. Hah, I don't mind. I just recently came into this wealth thing so a dixie cup would've worked." Fiona wasn't even close to throwing a fit over what kind of glass she drank out of.

    He sat down in a chair across from her. "Where was I? Oh yes, well, being who I am... I would've been very upset to have broken the sweet girl that I thought you were." He paused for a moment, leaning in.

    "I kind of liked you."

    Ah, self-flattery... eat her heart out, she should!

    The glass was taken a healthy gulp from as she peered over at him while he spoke. Chuckling a bit, she shook her head. "I'm not that sweet. 'Sides, I was broken to begin with." She offered a wink. It was only true. Beneath that pretty happy facade lay a dark depression with the self-inflicted scratches along her sides to vouch for it.

    He didn't know whether it was the champagne, or the recent discoveries made tonight... but he was feeling very coy, and very friendly. "Well. I know better now." Maybe he liked to break a sweet girl every now and again.

    "And what do you mean you liked?" This made her very curious.

    "Is liked too strong of a word for you, Fiona?" He paused. "That is your real name right?"

    She laughed at his questions, shaking her head with a grin present. "Yes, yes, that's my real name. And it isn't that it's too strong of a word, it's how you put it in the past tense that strikes my curiosity." She could say that she liked him, too, but nothing good ever came from a relationship with a coworker. Er, even though they worked differently but all for the same reason: money.

    "I'm afraid that we were both playing charades, and so can you blame me for feeling like I've been mislead? How do I know that the Fiona I liked yesterday is the Fiona I see right before me today?" He leaned back into his seat, patiently nursing his glass. A curious glint in his eyes as he stared her down.

    Her eyes widened just a bit as she, too, sat up as the conversation took on a new depth. "Hah! You're certainly the one to act so shocked! Hypocrite." She added with a little wrinkle of her nose while she took a drink of her wine before going on to actually answer his question. "I'm the same as I've always been. It's just my occupation that changed. And what about you? What do you do in this warm little family of bad people?"

    [ log : pieces of the puzzle ]
    [ 07.31.06 ]

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    Treat each poached egg like it's a soldier dying in your arms..."

    One character to another character, the grim reaper spooning eggs from the depths of a boiling pot, and his victim's uncrossed spirit talking him through the procedure.

    "Man down. Man down."

    One by one, they're dropping like god damn flies. The ratio is unimaginably brutal between the saved and those being trashed. They didn't stand a chance. Third one out is falling apart, skydiving egg white, and this is no snickering matter.

    Rest in ... pieces."

    Julien is smirking on the inside, watching this weird Showtime series that Lash had packed in his duffle, eating Christmas cookies with disoriented sprinkles and an intense amount of butter. Winter in Switzerland makes you desperately want to take on a lover. Winter in Switzerland was worth suffering through for the amount of filthy money that Fiona and he were going to be stuffing their pockets with. But was it all about the money? No. But about eighty percent of it was, and that was enough for Julien.

    "Siouxsie."

    It's his whisper from three weeks ago, his bleak apartment --- black, sheik, jazz -- and his frosted New York windows. She knows his voice, but it takes her too long to respond, to open her eyes.

    "What." It's not really a question without the octave change. She's exhausted.

    "Tell me about a time that you were so happy that you couldn't stand it."

    Was there such a thing? And she's instantly searching for a time when her and her husband were happy, forgetting that there was a time when it was just her, alone. That seemed like forever ago. Lets just face it, it's human nature to relate incomparable happiness with love.

    "When I bought these shoes."

    She decided on a more simplistic route, wondering how much space was between him and her.

    "Seriously."

    "No, maybe not. But they were on sale. And you like them, don't you? Because I do."

    Of course he did, he insisted she keep them on, didn't he?

    She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, sputtering out "So what do you want for Christmas?"

    And he doesn't miss a beat. "That isn't a fair question."

    He knows he can't have her. He knows it. And she knows it. And this is what makes it unfair. But it's the fact that he can't, that he wants at all.

    She blushes.

    And he knows it's only time. Just a little more time...


    The phone rings. Julien doesn't feel like picking it up, but notices it's an international number. Maybe it's Helena. -- Shit. He scolds himself for even thinking of her, the vowels of her name. The bitch. He picks up.

    "Julien York."

    "Fuckin Christ! I'm about to bang the shit out of Fiona..." It's Lash. And the drunk bastard is laughing so loud, Julien winces and pulls the phone from his ear.

    "Shut the fuck up."

    "Hahahaha. I had you going, didn't I?"

    "The girl has too much sense to even look in your direction."

    He's annoyed, and Lash loves it.

    "I don't know, man. She smiled at me... and it was fuckin suggestive. Anyway -- Get your fuckin depressed ass down here. I've found six hot Swiss Misses--"

    "What? Hot Chocolate? I can't talk."

    Julien hangs up, tosses his phone on the other side of the couch, and looks at Fiona and his sharing wall. She's in the apartment next door. At least he suspects she is. He briefly wonders what flower she smells like, what panties she's wearing...

    The cookies are left on the couch, and he puts on his god damn coat, and heads down to the bar that Lash has supposedly cornered Swiss misses with pigtails and heavy accents, and if Julien was really lucky, one of them wouldn't speak English at all.

    <font color="#000000" size="1">[ January 01, 2007 07:57 PM: Message edited by: the xxxholic's affair. ]</font>

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    There was a certain amount of amusement found in vulgarity, though the disgusting words that had dripped from Lash's mouth only aroused a more sickened smile from Fiona. Truly it lacked any suggestive, "I can't wait to fuck you!" undertones that Lash had seemingly been hoping for.

    Three days had been spent in Switzerland and already Fiona was aching to explore the city for what it had to offer. Namely the bars though she was only half concerned about becoming the lush she had been denying she was.

    "Why am I still in here?"

    The apartment was cozy and all but Fiona craved the city. Or anything from home, really. Halfway out of her room and she encountered Julien.

    "Leaving and not inviting me, hm?" Not that she could honestly admit to wanting to meet the Swiss girls, had she known about them.

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    A Chemistry of Gold (and maybe diamonds) : Julien & Fiona
    "Uh---" She seemed to catch him right inbetween his thoughts of Fiona and well, the Swiss girls. "You want to come down and get a drink...?"

    He recovered quickly, the crook of a bow (a subtle grin, whatever that means), straightening his coat for the winter he's somewhat eager to encounter. "It's just Lash and some natives... Johnny might be down there too..."

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