Gweneth Popplestone is a deadly cinnamon roll (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gwenniepop) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gooseberryhigh2018-02-14 01:37 pm
gwenniepop) wrote in gooseberryhigh2018-02-14 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
By the firepit
Who: Gwen and Webster
When: Sunday night, after the Quidditch game and this conversation
Where: Ribbonfin fire pit
What: Trying to work things out
Warnings: None
The fire burned brightly in the dark, serving as a waypoint for the Ribbonfins as they came and went with their friends. Gwen sat on the far side of the circle, having snagged a quilt out of the cabin to keep her back warm, the front open to the fire. Her intent for once was to be antisocial, at least to her cabinmates, because she needed to talk to Webster. Working late every night on her artificing was a good distraction, but she just couldn’t ignore things forever. This was private enough, since the fire pit was big and afforded distance between people, but also kept the chances of a mimic catching them to a minimum. Or so she hoped. Everyone was still riding high spirits after the close game, and most wanted to congratulate her at least once.
Her offer to talk had been brief, more because she still needed to collect her thoughts. Come by the firepit...we can talk then. And now that it was time, Gwen still could not be certain where she wanted to go with this. Just that a lot of questions plagued her.
When he got there, she offered a small smile and patted the spot on the bench next to her, partly covered by the quilt so he could share. “I hate that we still need to check each other with the journals,” she said, looking down at where hers rested on her lap. “But maybe that’s why things keep going wrong.”
“You’re right to be cautious.” Webster fishes his journal out of his bag. “My mimic got me into this situation. Feels like he should be the one here getting me into it.” It’s an attempt at humor. Emphasis firmly on “attempt.” They’re having this talk because at the snow-in, Webster’s mimic revealed to Gwen that Lilika -- and not he -- had been the one to send Gwen a candygram. The origin of their relationship -- or whatever this was -- had been dishonest and Webster had never cared to tell Gwen. You’re stuck with the real me, he scribbles, then with a small smile he adds, Sorry.
He sits down next to her on the quilt. He’s not flexible and the cross-legged position he assumed is immediately uncomfortable. He shifts. Then shifts again. Then decides it’d be weird if he shifted yet again. So he doesn’t. He looks over at Gwen, unsure what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling. Only one way to find out, so he opts to skip small talk and just cut to the chase. “How have you been feeling about… things between us?”
It was an important question, but not what she thought he would lead off with, so Gwen had to pause, really think about her answer. “I miss….talking to you. Spending time with you.” She folded up her journal after her small written acknowledgement, set it back on her lap, more of just something to do with her hands. “I know it seems like I’m….overreacting. I’m sure that Lilika has said that I am.” No reason to pretend he hadn’t talked it all over with his best friend. Normally, she would have done the same, except that she and Calvin had their own problems at the moment. “And part of me agrees with that. What does it matter who asked, since we did have a good time?” She shrugged, unhappily. “But it feels like it matters. Maybe because it changed a lot of things for me, and because I wasn’t ready for that.”
“It matters because it was a lie,” Webster states, looking at the fire. “Of omission. But a lie nevertheless. I made you feel foolish, and I hate that.” He turns his head toward her. “I should have told you before the dance and it wouldn’t have been a big deal. And if not then, I should’ve told you once we got close. And maybe the longer I waited the worse it’d be, but you deserved to hear it from me.”
God, why didn’t I opt for the smalltalk option?? Webster chastises himself, looking away again. The immediate honesty on both their parts was… not easy. How about that Quidditch game today? Wild, huh? That could’ve been a nice starter. Or: The obstacle course was surprisingly fun. More good fodder for a breezy conversation. Or: Sheesh. Did you see that Philip Seymour Hoffman died the other week? I’ll admit, The Master kind of went over my head, but I can appreciate that it was an important film. Even if they didn’t agree, they’d at least have opinions that would lead to discourse and/or reminiscing.
Alas. “I’m sorry,” Webster says quietly. “I’ve really missed you, too.” The admission brings a soft smile to his face. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot this week.”
“Yea? Just this week, though?” A small joke, but like him, Gwen was attempting to leaven it with humor. Still, she was glad he agreed with her about the lie. “But….thanks for apologizing. Some days, I feel like….I’m uptight about things like that, that I can’t let it go. That could be true. But it did bother me.” It wasn’t the only reason she’d asked to talk to him, though.
“Look, I…..there’s….when I found out about the invite, about the candygram,” she managed, her words disjointed no matter how carefully she tried to pick them, “there were a lot of other things said. I haven’t….been able to tell if any of that was true. Honestly? I had been really, really hoping that this, Lilika inviting me, had been a lie, because then I could forget about the rest of it too. I could say, yes, it was just a couple of mimics messing with me. But then you….confirmed it. And now I don’t know what to think.” She looked up at him finally, her expression far too open but with misery. “Was it really you and Lilika talking about the invite, about me, that night we found the mimics in the lodge?”
“No,” Webster says without hesitation. Quietly but firmly. “No, it was not.” He doesn’t know what else she had overheard, but by her look it’s clear that mimic-Webika wasn’t doing some gut-busting Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis routine. “I’m sorry for the upsetting things fake us said.”
He wonders if he can try re-adjusting his body again. It’s been long enough, he figures, so he does and is immediately more comfortable. He lets out a breath. Much better. “If you want, I can clarify anything you heard,” he offers and immediately worries that he’ll regret that. He’d just gotten comfortable.
Gwen nodded, relieved for that much at least, but she knew from experience that it wasn’t so simple. “These...things, these strangers, they pretend to be us. Clearly they are trying to cause arguments, turn us against one another. But the problem is….they aren’t always lying.” She picked at the quilt, her fingers needing something to do. “They know enough, can clearly pick up our personalities, our mannerisms…..our thoughts. It makes it difficult to…...ignore whatever they say about us.” It wasn’t an answer, not truly, but she felt as if she had to work through more than just what she heard. The very nature of what they dealt with meant nothing was easy. “Do you know who it was I meant, when I said I liked someone else?”
“I think I do,” Webster replies. “I didn’t for a while -- and honestly, I didn’t care -- but it’s Casper, right?” Lilika had told him this and he had no reason to doubt her. A little embarrassed he adds, “I was surprised that it upset me. Not that it was him per se,” he clarifies. “Maybe partially that it was him? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” Gooood, Webster. Insult her crush. That’s the move here. He collects himself. “I guess what I mean is that putting a name -- any name -- to the person you liked made him real.”
“Yea.” Her answer encompassed a lot, both confirmation of her feelings and acknowledgement that he was right, it did make it more real. “Part of...what made it difficult for me to say something to you was that I’ve known him for years. You, I didn’t know. Maybe it’s not as simple as that but…..this wasn’t me being shallow and just having a passing crush that meant nothing. He’s my friend. It’s been that way for a long time. And I was getting to know you, and…..you are very different.” That much brought a brief smile. “It made me question a lot. I thought….that wasn’t a bad thing. Your mimic…..said that I was wasting everyone’s time, that it shouldn’t take that long to figure out how I feel. It said…how hard is it? But it is hard. The way I feel, that developed over years. It’s not so easy to…..change that.”
This is helpful context for Webster. The backstory that naturally he hasn’t been privy to. It’s not surprising; of course Gwen and Casper have a history and relationship that predates Webster coming here. And while there isn’t an explicit question in there, Webster can hear one: Have you been thinking what your mimic said?
“I, uh--” Webster stops to choose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t have said what my mimic said. I wouldn’t have used those words.” He pauses again. “I knew this situation must be difficult for you. But maybe not how difficult. You and Casper have known each other for a while. And I’m new. And we’re different. Our hair, for one. I bet he’s super jealous of mine.” Webster gives a little head-flip for effect, but his messy locks don’t exactly cooperate. “I want you to know you haven’t been wasting my time. Admittedly, I have been feeling a little... impatient.” Again, he chooses his words carefully. “But that’s just because I’m excited about you. And while I understand my impatience might be difficult for you, I hope it’s also flattering.”
‘It is.” A smile accompanied her words, although they were sincere. It almost came as a grin when he tossed his hair back. “Maybe he should be jealous of your hair.” Gwen reached up to brush away the locks that fell close to his eyes. “But you know, you aren’t that different in some ways. I wouldn’t care about someone who didn’t have a good heart, you know. Who didn’t care about his friends, who wouldn’t stand up for what he believed in.” If she spoke about Casper or Webster here was unclear, but the reason for that came quickly on the heels of her statement. “That’s why the lie bothered me like it did. I admire both of you greatly for honesty. For being someone I can trust. I want to trust you.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “I do trust you. And I like you, Webster. This wouldn’t be nearly so difficult if I didn’t.” She gave a small huff of a sad laugh. “It would be a lot easier if I didn’t, if I can say that. You’re funny, and kind, and whenever you talk about the things you are interested in, it sparks my interest. I like that.” And yet there was always the caveat, the words she couldn’t help herself from saying. “What came before, it doesn’t just….go away. So I’ve been trying to figure out if I can move forward even if it hasn’t. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Webster nods and gives her a sympathetic smile. “But it doesn’t make it any easier for me.” It’s not a jab at her. Just the truth. Webster doesn’t see any bad guys here, just a bad situation. He rubs his hands over his face and lets out a sigh. “What have we gotten ourselves into? This is a real, proper mess. And...” He uncovers his face and gives her a look, “I know I’ve apologized a few times tonight -- and I have my fair share to be sorry for -- but if you’re looking for me to apologize for you liking me and making this harder, I just won’t do it.” He shakes his head in an exaggerated manner. “That’s a bridge too far.”
Webster swings his legs around on the quilt so he’s facing Gwen completely. “I don’t think there’s an obvious solution here. Or two smart people like us would’ve come up with it by now. But I’m not sure doing nothing is a good answer. Or, at least it’s not one that I, as an emotionally invested person in this situation, am interested in. Every time we hang out it’s fun and natural and full of spontaneity and sweet and romantic and stimulating.” He takes a needed breath. “I know lots of adjectives. We’re smart people; I just mentioned that.” He gives her a half-smile and hopes she’ll return it. “Let’s go to the dance together. Or, let’s hang out at the dance. Let’s keep having fun. And if you find in the next few weeks you can’t move forward, then…” Webster shrugs, “...I trust you’ll be honest with me, and we can at least say we gave it a shot.”
Gwen nodded, slowly, although she had blushed at the description of their relationship. Still, he was right about one thing at least; her honesty may have felt necessary, but it still caused him no little amount of distress, just like it had for her. She regretted it, but she wouldn’t… couldn’t have done otherwise, she knew that. Maybe it made her a bad person. “I...had pretty much decided to not go to the dance, but I…..we could do that? I think you’re right. We have fun. Every time we are together, you make me laugh. You make me happy that I am there.” Such a loaded admission, but true. It was easier to smile, now, tentative but real. “Unless you aren’t set on going to the dance. We could…..watch a movie? Not that I can’t be convinced to the dance, I just haven’t felt…..I don’t know, a dancing mood.” Talking with him, putting some of this tension to rest, it relieved a weight, but she had yet to shake the emotions surrounding what the mimics had been doing to her.
“I would like to go to the dance,” Webster says, breaking into a big smile. “With you. Get dressed up, take photos, see our friends. And then we can make a game time decision if we want to dance. I haven’t felt the danciest either these past few weeks. And I’d just as happily sit at a table with you and eat desserts, or play cards, or guess which couples on the dance floor are going to last, or do a crossword, or-- we still have a few days to figure it out,” he laughs. “Will you be my date?”
Although her smile widened a little at the possibilities he listed, Gwen didn’t answer right away. Her eyes traveled over his face, her gaze both soft and contemplative. She knew that despite the win that day, despite banishing the last ghosts that lingered from that terrible conversation that had sparked this talk, her undercurrent of despondency remained. It wasn’t him; no, if anything, Webster was the counterpoint to that, a warm, bright spot in her life. She suspected that her driven need to find a way to stop the strangers, that was the one way she would shake this deep pall that had settled, ever since she’d witnessed the events in the lodge. Since she’d seen the illusion of someone she cared deeply about being struck down and killed.
“Yes. I’ll go with you.” The words slipped out almost before she consciously chose them, and it felt like they weren’t quite right, but Gwen suspected she needed to do this, to go. Even if she didn’t dance, just was there, maybe it would remind her that she was still a high school girl, that none of this should have been systematically tearing her apart like it was. The most difficult decision in her life right then should have been accepting an invite to a dance, not how she could stop supernatural creatures from hurting those she loved. “I can’t promise I will be the most….outgoing date. I’m not even sure I have anything to wear,” she addly, with a vestige of her old humor. “Forgive me if I wish this was a masquerade as well so that no one would care if it was me or not. But I would like to go. With you.”
Webster is relieved, happy, concerned, and then happy again in rapid succession. It feels like they have had a breakthrough, but he can sense there’s more that Gwen is grappling with. Which... makes total sense. This school year has provided an added layer of drama and problems -- real drama and problems -- on top of what you’d expect as a typical teenager. But hopefully this dance will be good. For them individually and as a pair. “I’m excited,” Webster smiles at her. “And don’t worry about your outfit. You’ll look wonderful in whatever you choose.”
He’s about to stand and go, but discovers the odd position he’s been sitting in has put his leg to sleep. Oh well. Staying here a moment longer, by the fire, next to Gwen, that doesn’t sound too bad to him right now.
When: Sunday night, after the Quidditch game and this conversation
Where: Ribbonfin fire pit
What: Trying to work things out
Warnings: None
The fire burned brightly in the dark, serving as a waypoint for the Ribbonfins as they came and went with their friends. Gwen sat on the far side of the circle, having snagged a quilt out of the cabin to keep her back warm, the front open to the fire. Her intent for once was to be antisocial, at least to her cabinmates, because she needed to talk to Webster. Working late every night on her artificing was a good distraction, but she just couldn’t ignore things forever. This was private enough, since the fire pit was big and afforded distance between people, but also kept the chances of a mimic catching them to a minimum. Or so she hoped. Everyone was still riding high spirits after the close game, and most wanted to congratulate her at least once.
Her offer to talk had been brief, more because she still needed to collect her thoughts. Come by the firepit...we can talk then. And now that it was time, Gwen still could not be certain where she wanted to go with this. Just that a lot of questions plagued her.
When he got there, she offered a small smile and patted the spot on the bench next to her, partly covered by the quilt so he could share. “I hate that we still need to check each other with the journals,” she said, looking down at where hers rested on her lap. “But maybe that’s why things keep going wrong.”
“You’re right to be cautious.” Webster fishes his journal out of his bag. “My mimic got me into this situation. Feels like he should be the one here getting me into it.” It’s an attempt at humor. Emphasis firmly on “attempt.” They’re having this talk because at the snow-in, Webster’s mimic revealed to Gwen that Lilika -- and not he -- had been the one to send Gwen a candygram. The origin of their relationship -- or whatever this was -- had been dishonest and Webster had never cared to tell Gwen. You’re stuck with the real me, he scribbles, then with a small smile he adds, Sorry.
He sits down next to her on the quilt. He’s not flexible and the cross-legged position he assumed is immediately uncomfortable. He shifts. Then shifts again. Then decides it’d be weird if he shifted yet again. So he doesn’t. He looks over at Gwen, unsure what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling. Only one way to find out, so he opts to skip small talk and just cut to the chase. “How have you been feeling about… things between us?”
It was an important question, but not what she thought he would lead off with, so Gwen had to pause, really think about her answer. “I miss….talking to you. Spending time with you.” She folded up her journal after her small written acknowledgement, set it back on her lap, more of just something to do with her hands. “I know it seems like I’m….overreacting. I’m sure that Lilika has said that I am.” No reason to pretend he hadn’t talked it all over with his best friend. Normally, she would have done the same, except that she and Calvin had their own problems at the moment. “And part of me agrees with that. What does it matter who asked, since we did have a good time?” She shrugged, unhappily. “But it feels like it matters. Maybe because it changed a lot of things for me, and because I wasn’t ready for that.”
“It matters because it was a lie,” Webster states, looking at the fire. “Of omission. But a lie nevertheless. I made you feel foolish, and I hate that.” He turns his head toward her. “I should have told you before the dance and it wouldn’t have been a big deal. And if not then, I should’ve told you once we got close. And maybe the longer I waited the worse it’d be, but you deserved to hear it from me.”
God, why didn’t I opt for the smalltalk option?? Webster chastises himself, looking away again. The immediate honesty on both their parts was… not easy. How about that Quidditch game today? Wild, huh? That could’ve been a nice starter. Or: The obstacle course was surprisingly fun. More good fodder for a breezy conversation. Or: Sheesh. Did you see that Philip Seymour Hoffman died the other week? I’ll admit, The Master kind of went over my head, but I can appreciate that it was an important film. Even if they didn’t agree, they’d at least have opinions that would lead to discourse and/or reminiscing.
Alas. “I’m sorry,” Webster says quietly. “I’ve really missed you, too.” The admission brings a soft smile to his face. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot this week.”
“Yea? Just this week, though?” A small joke, but like him, Gwen was attempting to leaven it with humor. Still, she was glad he agreed with her about the lie. “But….thanks for apologizing. Some days, I feel like….I’m uptight about things like that, that I can’t let it go. That could be true. But it did bother me.” It wasn’t the only reason she’d asked to talk to him, though.
“Look, I…..there’s….when I found out about the invite, about the candygram,” she managed, her words disjointed no matter how carefully she tried to pick them, “there were a lot of other things said. I haven’t….been able to tell if any of that was true. Honestly? I had been really, really hoping that this, Lilika inviting me, had been a lie, because then I could forget about the rest of it too. I could say, yes, it was just a couple of mimics messing with me. But then you….confirmed it. And now I don’t know what to think.” She looked up at him finally, her expression far too open but with misery. “Was it really you and Lilika talking about the invite, about me, that night we found the mimics in the lodge?”
“No,” Webster says without hesitation. Quietly but firmly. “No, it was not.” He doesn’t know what else she had overheard, but by her look it’s clear that mimic-Webika wasn’t doing some gut-busting Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis routine. “I’m sorry for the upsetting things fake us said.”
He wonders if he can try re-adjusting his body again. It’s been long enough, he figures, so he does and is immediately more comfortable. He lets out a breath. Much better. “If you want, I can clarify anything you heard,” he offers and immediately worries that he’ll regret that. He’d just gotten comfortable.
Gwen nodded, relieved for that much at least, but she knew from experience that it wasn’t so simple. “These...things, these strangers, they pretend to be us. Clearly they are trying to cause arguments, turn us against one another. But the problem is….they aren’t always lying.” She picked at the quilt, her fingers needing something to do. “They know enough, can clearly pick up our personalities, our mannerisms…..our thoughts. It makes it difficult to…...ignore whatever they say about us.” It wasn’t an answer, not truly, but she felt as if she had to work through more than just what she heard. The very nature of what they dealt with meant nothing was easy. “Do you know who it was I meant, when I said I liked someone else?”
“I think I do,” Webster replies. “I didn’t for a while -- and honestly, I didn’t care -- but it’s Casper, right?” Lilika had told him this and he had no reason to doubt her. A little embarrassed he adds, “I was surprised that it upset me. Not that it was him per se,” he clarifies. “Maybe partially that it was him? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” Gooood, Webster. Insult her crush. That’s the move here. He collects himself. “I guess what I mean is that putting a name -- any name -- to the person you liked made him real.”
“Yea.” Her answer encompassed a lot, both confirmation of her feelings and acknowledgement that he was right, it did make it more real. “Part of...what made it difficult for me to say something to you was that I’ve known him for years. You, I didn’t know. Maybe it’s not as simple as that but…..this wasn’t me being shallow and just having a passing crush that meant nothing. He’s my friend. It’s been that way for a long time. And I was getting to know you, and…..you are very different.” That much brought a brief smile. “It made me question a lot. I thought….that wasn’t a bad thing. Your mimic…..said that I was wasting everyone’s time, that it shouldn’t take that long to figure out how I feel. It said…how hard is it? But it is hard. The way I feel, that developed over years. It’s not so easy to…..change that.”
This is helpful context for Webster. The backstory that naturally he hasn’t been privy to. It’s not surprising; of course Gwen and Casper have a history and relationship that predates Webster coming here. And while there isn’t an explicit question in there, Webster can hear one: Have you been thinking what your mimic said?
“I, uh--” Webster stops to choose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t have said what my mimic said. I wouldn’t have used those words.” He pauses again. “I knew this situation must be difficult for you. But maybe not how difficult. You and Casper have known each other for a while. And I’m new. And we’re different. Our hair, for one. I bet he’s super jealous of mine.” Webster gives a little head-flip for effect, but his messy locks don’t exactly cooperate. “I want you to know you haven’t been wasting my time. Admittedly, I have been feeling a little... impatient.” Again, he chooses his words carefully. “But that’s just because I’m excited about you. And while I understand my impatience might be difficult for you, I hope it’s also flattering.”
‘It is.” A smile accompanied her words, although they were sincere. It almost came as a grin when he tossed his hair back. “Maybe he should be jealous of your hair.” Gwen reached up to brush away the locks that fell close to his eyes. “But you know, you aren’t that different in some ways. I wouldn’t care about someone who didn’t have a good heart, you know. Who didn’t care about his friends, who wouldn’t stand up for what he believed in.” If she spoke about Casper or Webster here was unclear, but the reason for that came quickly on the heels of her statement. “That’s why the lie bothered me like it did. I admire both of you greatly for honesty. For being someone I can trust. I want to trust you.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “I do trust you. And I like you, Webster. This wouldn’t be nearly so difficult if I didn’t.” She gave a small huff of a sad laugh. “It would be a lot easier if I didn’t, if I can say that. You’re funny, and kind, and whenever you talk about the things you are interested in, it sparks my interest. I like that.” And yet there was always the caveat, the words she couldn’t help herself from saying. “What came before, it doesn’t just….go away. So I’ve been trying to figure out if I can move forward even if it hasn’t. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Webster nods and gives her a sympathetic smile. “But it doesn’t make it any easier for me.” It’s not a jab at her. Just the truth. Webster doesn’t see any bad guys here, just a bad situation. He rubs his hands over his face and lets out a sigh. “What have we gotten ourselves into? This is a real, proper mess. And...” He uncovers his face and gives her a look, “I know I’ve apologized a few times tonight -- and I have my fair share to be sorry for -- but if you’re looking for me to apologize for you liking me and making this harder, I just won’t do it.” He shakes his head in an exaggerated manner. “That’s a bridge too far.”
Webster swings his legs around on the quilt so he’s facing Gwen completely. “I don’t think there’s an obvious solution here. Or two smart people like us would’ve come up with it by now. But I’m not sure doing nothing is a good answer. Or, at least it’s not one that I, as an emotionally invested person in this situation, am interested in. Every time we hang out it’s fun and natural and full of spontaneity and sweet and romantic and stimulating.” He takes a needed breath. “I know lots of adjectives. We’re smart people; I just mentioned that.” He gives her a half-smile and hopes she’ll return it. “Let’s go to the dance together. Or, let’s hang out at the dance. Let’s keep having fun. And if you find in the next few weeks you can’t move forward, then…” Webster shrugs, “...I trust you’ll be honest with me, and we can at least say we gave it a shot.”
Gwen nodded, slowly, although she had blushed at the description of their relationship. Still, he was right about one thing at least; her honesty may have felt necessary, but it still caused him no little amount of distress, just like it had for her. She regretted it, but she wouldn’t… couldn’t have done otherwise, she knew that. Maybe it made her a bad person. “I...had pretty much decided to not go to the dance, but I…..we could do that? I think you’re right. We have fun. Every time we are together, you make me laugh. You make me happy that I am there.” Such a loaded admission, but true. It was easier to smile, now, tentative but real. “Unless you aren’t set on going to the dance. We could…..watch a movie? Not that I can’t be convinced to the dance, I just haven’t felt…..I don’t know, a dancing mood.” Talking with him, putting some of this tension to rest, it relieved a weight, but she had yet to shake the emotions surrounding what the mimics had been doing to her.
“I would like to go to the dance,” Webster says, breaking into a big smile. “With you. Get dressed up, take photos, see our friends. And then we can make a game time decision if we want to dance. I haven’t felt the danciest either these past few weeks. And I’d just as happily sit at a table with you and eat desserts, or play cards, or guess which couples on the dance floor are going to last, or do a crossword, or-- we still have a few days to figure it out,” he laughs. “Will you be my date?”
Although her smile widened a little at the possibilities he listed, Gwen didn’t answer right away. Her eyes traveled over his face, her gaze both soft and contemplative. She knew that despite the win that day, despite banishing the last ghosts that lingered from that terrible conversation that had sparked this talk, her undercurrent of despondency remained. It wasn’t him; no, if anything, Webster was the counterpoint to that, a warm, bright spot in her life. She suspected that her driven need to find a way to stop the strangers, that was the one way she would shake this deep pall that had settled, ever since she’d witnessed the events in the lodge. Since she’d seen the illusion of someone she cared deeply about being struck down and killed.
“Yes. I’ll go with you.” The words slipped out almost before she consciously chose them, and it felt like they weren’t quite right, but Gwen suspected she needed to do this, to go. Even if she didn’t dance, just was there, maybe it would remind her that she was still a high school girl, that none of this should have been systematically tearing her apart like it was. The most difficult decision in her life right then should have been accepting an invite to a dance, not how she could stop supernatural creatures from hurting those she loved. “I can’t promise I will be the most….outgoing date. I’m not even sure I have anything to wear,” she addly, with a vestige of her old humor. “Forgive me if I wish this was a masquerade as well so that no one would care if it was me or not. But I would like to go. With you.”
Webster is relieved, happy, concerned, and then happy again in rapid succession. It feels like they have had a breakthrough, but he can sense there’s more that Gwen is grappling with. Which... makes total sense. This school year has provided an added layer of drama and problems -- real drama and problems -- on top of what you’d expect as a typical teenager. But hopefully this dance will be good. For them individually and as a pair. “I’m excited,” Webster smiles at her. “And don’t worry about your outfit. You’ll look wonderful in whatever you choose.”
He’s about to stand and go, but discovers the odd position he’s been sitting in has put his leg to sleep. Oh well. Staying here a moment longer, by the fire, next to Gwen, that doesn’t sound too bad to him right now.