Path of the Vampire forum

Emerson’s song was put on pause. “Coraline,” she repeated, testing the name out for herself. It sounded familiar, rolled off her tongue with ease. “Yeah. I think that was it.” She nodded her head anyways. Connecting the name to the plot that was piecing itself together in her mind was more difficult than she had hoped. “The main character - Coraline, I guess - brought this cat with her to another world where she had other parents. And they had button… Eyes.” She shuddered at the thought and from a cool trail of wind that passed them by as they walked. “I think there was a movie, too.” Yes, there was a movie. Emerson could remember that much, but she couldn’t remember if she had seen it or not. She probably hadn’t. If she didn’t watch television, films were probably included in that mix, too. She frowned at herself. Did that make her boring? Everyone liked shows and movies. The brunette didn’t know if she didn’t like them or not because she couldn’t quite pinpoint a time in which she watched any. Did that make her weird? Everyone watched shows and movies. Everyone.

Too lost in her own mind, Emerson barely heard anything else that came from Robin’s mouth. She still heard it. Her ears worked very well, actually, making things much louder and clearer than they really were. So she heard him, but barely so. That made her a bad listener, didn’t it? Emerson was frowning more, then. She didn’t want to be boring or weird or a bad listener. She wanted to be fun and normal and a good listener. She wanted to remember things and she wanted to learn things and so when she and Robin arrived at the bookstore, with the lights on and people inside, Emerson didn’t hesitate to go to the doors and step inside.

The girl was greeted with a blast of heat and the jingle of a bell. The bookstore was not like a library. Like Robin had said, there was a bar on one side and shelving on the other. People were talking and people were laughing. To anyone else, it wasn’t a crowded atmosphere. In fact, to anyone else, it was probably a comfortable atmosphere. But Emerson wasn’t wired in the way to think that lots of people was the direct synonym of comfort. Some people looked at her upon her arrival. Only some. Three people, to be exact. Three pairs of eyes, to be exact. And that was three pairs too many. Emerson’s fingers curled into themselves under the sleeves of her sweater and she backed up until she was lightly bumping into someone. Robin. She knew Robin, at least a little bit. More than she knew the three pairs of eyes. “Wanna find my book,” she mumbled, looking down at the coffee colored rug underneath her feet. The rug didn’t look at her or judge her or care if she was boring or weird or not a good listener. “Too many people,” she explained, as if he would understand her reasoning.

Emerson hadn’t even realized that she’d stepped on Robin’s toe, and she barely acknowledged his hand on her shoulder. It probably would’ve been a gesture that could have helped her calm down if she’d decided to pay attention to it, rather than every other thought that was flying through that pretty little head of hers. Why was she getting so upset? They were just people. Well, probably. One or two of them could’ve been vampires, or whatever else lurked in the city that she had yet to learn about. The fact of what or who they were wasn’t really the source of the problem, but rather the fact that they were there, and they were looking at her, and they were probably picking her apart. Except, in the reality of it, they weren’t. The employees had other customers to attend to and the couple was there for the sole purpose of browsing for books. They weren’t looking at her anymore, and if Emerson would take her eyes off the floor and her feet, she’d be able to see that and calm down and not bring any more attention to herself. But, of course, things weren’t that simple - Emerson wasn’t that simple. She was, somehow, a complex girl. When she looked up, her eyes went well over the heads of the people to read the signs hanging from the ceiling of the place, telling her which section of the bookstore was which. She acted quickly, trying to locate the one in the farthest and quietest corner. And there it was. The children’s section. If she wanted to embarrass herself any more than she already had, that was her chance.

Was Emerson okay? She wasn’t sure. Her blunt nails were sinking into the skin of her palms and she was starting to shake and she couldn’t understand how her heart was racing in her chest if it wasn’t even supposed to beat anymore, so she didn’t answer that question. As for the others - as for waiting outside? On her own? Emerson shook her head quickly, eyes locked on the sign in the corner of the facility. The girl wasn’t safe outside on her own if she wasn’t moving. If she was moving, she could always move faster, turn a different corner, duck into a nearby building. If she wasn’t moving, if she didn’t have a phone, if someone were to pop up and snatch her away… She shook her head again. “No, s’okay, I just-” And she didn’t even let herself finish. Robin’s hand was slipping away from her shoulder once the brunette was on the move, ducking past customers and around shelves with barely-there apologies.

The children’s section, as she had pictured it to be, was small and closed off and oh-so-thankfully empty. That was good, but it wasn’t good enough to calm her down at the moment. Emerson tried to distract herself, because no one was there to see her and it was fine and there wasn’t a reason to be upset, anyways, but it was hard. No matter how tightly she pressed her arms to her sides, her fists still shook, like her hands were little baby earthquakes. She scanned over the shelves, knowing how dumb she looked, knowing how weird she looked, and tried not to care. She found a small Halloween display on the side for kids who actually had the attention span and capability to handle more than a hundred pages worth of words and somehow knew that the book she was looking for was there. And it was, on the bottom shelf. The last copy, so it seemed. Emerson sat on the floor, pulled at the dark binding, and leaned her head against the edge of the display to try and clear her head.

It wasn’t that Emerson wasn’t happy to find the book she had been looking for - because she was. The fact that she had some memory of something and now had it just between her fingertips was progress all within itself. No, the source of being upset ran much deeper than that of the surface, and she didn’t even know where to start with explaining it. People were tricky. There were good people and there were bad people and there were people that pretended to be one when they were secretly the other. Emerson had a hard time figuring out who belonged in which category. There was also the consuming factor of having to be good and having to be right. Some may have labeled her as a perfectionist, but that wasn’t exactly the case. In the reality of it all, the girl just wanted to bring good into the world. She believed that what you gave out to the universe was what you got back. And then came the fact aspect of having a conversation. One on one conversation was good. It was beneficial. It opened the doors to learning and teaching and debating and growing between the two parties. More than person speaking at a time was usually all too much unless the circumstances were comfortable. Emerson was not comfortable around strangers, but no one had engaged in conversation and really, truly weren’t judging her, as much as her mind seemed to think the opposite. Her outburst, as she decided to call it, was irrational, in that sense. And yet to her, it made all the perfect sense in the world.

Emerson wouldn’t have noticed the couple’s stare, even if Robin had failed to block them. Her eyes were cast down to focus on the floor and her vision was blurred around the edges. She didn’t really think that she would end up crying, especially over something that others would’ve deemed to be so small and silly, but she was. She tried to scrub at her face as to not mess up her makeup, but with shaking hands balled into fists, it was inevitable. The sigh she let out was ragged as her hands dropped back down into her lap, The pain from clenching her fists so tightly had dulled until her hands were numb. Her whole body felt kind of numb, as if she didn’t belong to it anymore. The feeling was scarily familiar as to how she had felt before she had been turned. She couldn’t have been dying. Right? That wasn’t supposed to be a thing anymore. The brunette tried not to think about it.

Robin started talking to her and she greatly appreciated it. She tried to focus on nothing else but what he was saying. That much was easy until it came with a question that she was intended to answer. She wanted to answer it. She’d thought about it before, evidently, as her opinion on the topic popped into her brain without much thought. Emerson didn’t want to grow up - that much was obvious. Before, as a human, there was nothing she could’ve done to avoid it. She would’ve gone to college, graduated, started a career. Maybe she would’ve found someone to marry, settled down in a quiet town, started a family. Her body would’ve aged and then she would’ve died and she wouldn’t have ever mattered. But things were so much different now. She could stay young forever, physically as she had always wanted, and mentally if she so chose to. She was planning on getting a job for the cash and the free time it would occupy in her days, but nothing with too many responsibilities. She had only herself to worry about. And that was good. All of it was good. Growing up wasn’t supposed to be fun. Being an adult wasn’t supposed to be fun. As you got older, more and more of the truth of the world was revealed. Since the truth hurts, you were supposed to get cranky and angry and stressed. That’s just how it was, and Emerson wanted nothing to do with it. All she ever knew was happiness and helpfulness and the occasional pout over a scraped knee.

The young brunette tried to voice her thoughts, but her tongue was heavy in her mouth and all she could form was a small sob. Frustrated at herself and embarrassed for Robin, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. She waited a few moments, green eyes locked on a patch of ruined carpet before she tried again. “I have a Neverland,” she found herself saying. In a way, Neverland and home were exactly the same to her. In a way, home was not a place, but a person. “I can feel it. And every time I look…” She shook her head. “S’hard to find the second star when the skies are so cloudy.”

One of the best ways to calm Emerson down was through physical contact. Much like a child, being held in someone’s arms or cuddled with a warm blanket were instant soothers for her. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it as to why they helped, but if she had to guess, it was probably because they made her feel safe and secure and grounded when everything else was slipping through her fingertips like water. Although advice could be reassuring, the girl recognized that, much like herself, not everyone was good at speaking. She felt that actions spoke at much greater volumes than words did, and even though she flinched when she felt Robin’s hand on her shoulder, she appreciated the gesture. After all, the male had only just met her and she was a bubbling, shaking mess on the floor of the kid’s section - the kid’s section - of a bookstore. Totally not the first impression she was going for, but it’d happened, and she’d have to accept it at some point or another. Sooner was better than later.

When Robin started to apologize, Emerson shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet, but she was able to slowly unravel her fingers from the fists they were so tightly held in. “No, I’m sorry. I’m the one-” She hiccuped suddenly before she continued, “-who’s like this.” The brunette gestured to herself loosely, her hand succeeding in not shaking too noticeably. “And, no, not the bookstore. Specifically.” The more time that passed, the more Emerson was forced to talk, the better she began to feel. She took in a long, fresh gulp of air. “People,” she explained. “Lots of them, looking at me...” She tried to push away the thought of how many people would be waiting for her once she finally decided to leave the temporary safe space. “Picking me apart.”

Emerson was quiet as she weighed her options. If she were to leave, it would mean having to pass by all the people who had seen her ‘episode.’ If those said people were the concerned type, they would ask questions that the girl wouldn’t be able to handle - let alone answer. Even if they didn’t ask her questions, she’d have to interact with the cashier. It was something she did every day at the cafes, and from time to time at the small shops, but those were familiar people and the process was quick. On the other hand, if she were to stay, time would drag on. The later it got, the closer it would be to closing hours, and there would be far fewer people in the building than there once were. That seemed like the better choice of the two. It gave Emerson time to relax and clear her head.

“If y'don’t have anywhere to go, could we stay?” she asked. Of course, if she was interfering with Robin’s schedule, she’d suck it up the best she could and be out the door with him. “If not…” Emerson glanced down at the copy of Coraline in her hands. She wasn’t sure how fast of a reader she was, and even though the text was small, the book was thin. She’d rather start reading it after it was purchased. Instead, her eyes fell onto the copy of Peter Pan that Robin still held. “Can we read for a little bit?”

Emerson noticed Robin’s shift in attention before she noticed the nearby clerk. A green gaze moved to find a girl who was just turning on her heel and disappearing behind a bookshelf. It made Emerson frown only slightly. A glimpse of a name tag had been caught before the other woman’s departure, so it would’ve made sense for an employee to be walking around the store. She was probably only checking on which shelves needed to be restocked and how many customers were remaining before it was time to close up shop. She probably wasn’t looking just for Emerson. She probably wasn’t judging her more than she already had - a girl who had a meltdown and was now in the children’s corner? Right. The possibility of it all was enough to make the brunette shrink into herself.

There was a bit of hesitation as Emerson glanced between the book and Robin. It was weird. Right? It was weird for an eighteen-year-old to want to be read a book. To want to be read a picture book. To color pictures. To want to not ever grow up and be an adult and have responsibilities. She was weird. There was something off about her - there had to be. Her frown grew as she internally battled with herself, and then it shrank away. Who cared? She didn’t. Not really. Not unless someone was seeing her behavior as being something negative. And why would they? She wasn’t hurting anyone. She was being herself. She liked what she liked and no one could change that and she didn’t have to care a single bit. There was no one to care but Robin, anyways. Emerson didn’t think he would. She hoped he wouldn’t.

“Could you read it?” she asked, followed by a quick, “Please? Thank you?” Emerson's legs stretched out in front of her momentarily before her weight was shifted and she was sitting ‘criss-cross-applesauce’ with her hands in her lap. She was feeling better, definitely. The long breath she took in and let out was refreshing. “If you don’t make voices for all the different characters, I’ll…” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “I’ll- I’ll bite you,” she finally decided, expression contorting to a relaxed, happy one as she let out the first giggle since she’d entered the bookstore. The threat was a loose one, but in context, it made some sort of sense. “No, s’okay. Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Emerson reassured him, fingers curling around a piece of loose thread at the hem of her sweater.