Another Thoughtful Morning

Tales of Jaycynda Ashleana and her associates.

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PslyderFTA
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Another Thoughtful Morning

Post by PslyderFTA »

Another night, close to dawn, as Psly stared out the window of Seaside’s tower. Silently, and behind tight shields, he gazed at nothing in particular, thoughts swirling in his head. From there, he could easily turn to see Jaycy’s sleeping form, still make out the trails of tears that still wet her cheeks, from before he took the time to rock her back to slumber.

The fact that she’d broken down in those tears after they’d lain together troubled him.

Things started to click. Being unable to lie to one another didn’t always make for smooth communications. But now, he had time and impetus to think. They’d grown more comfortable since the “incident”. They’d grown much more comfortable with each other, even above and beyond the bounds of what had been meaningless sex. He used her name, dropped the accent with her. She called him “love”, and started wearing jeans.

He’d given her a bike. Not just any bike, but a replica of the one that brought him here.

He looked down, and shook his head, a small grin spreading over his face. Some things, it seemed, were nearly inevitable. Two people could not be so much a part of each other’s existence, could not share so much of each other’s thoughts, without forming something more solid then mere friendship. She knew his fears, after all, just as he knew hers.

Being irrationally fearful over falling for someone and having them disappear, that was one of his deepest-rooted fears. She’d know that.

************************************************** *******

When she woke, she’d find a note.

“Jaycy. First off, don’t worry. I simply needed a good long think. I’ll be back soon.

Psly.”
A Learning Experience. Typical three-word preamble to a closed-casket funeral service.
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Jaycy Ashleana
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Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

Jaycy turned from her side onto her stomach, left arm extending across the empty expanse of crumpled sheets. His absence didn’t wake her, however. She was used to him rising before her. What woke her was the crinkling of the paper when her hand pressed down onto it. Fingers closed around it, crumpling the note, and she picked her head up from the pillows. “Uh?” She propped herself up on her elbows on the bed and yawned. The paper was smoothed out and she blinked at it for several moments before puzzling out the bleary words written on it.

“Jaycy. First off, don’t worry. I simply needed a good long think. I’ll be back soon.

Psly.”

She blinked a few more times and then groaned as the words sank in. “Oh gods.” The gypsy crushed the paper in her hand and flopped over on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Don’t worry? He needed a good long think? Slowly she sat up and slid from the bed, shuddering at the chill. There was a fire in the hearth of the bedroom, but it failed to eliminate the cold that seeped in through the blank stone. She spared an idle thought to yet another self-reminder that she needed to cover the walls with blankets.

She tossed the balled-up note into the fire and swiped at the corners of her eyes as the flames flared bright orange and yellow around it, swiftly consuming the message. Not bothering to watch its destruction, Jaycy dressed. Green and orange gypsy skirts covered her legs and the brown bodice was laced tight over her ivory chemise. She looked longingly to the dark brown bomber jacket she had recently begun wearing. It strangely reminded her of him, even if he wasn’t prone to wearing such clothes. Finally she plucked it up and slid arms through the sleeves. She left it unzipped as she moved through the Manor.

Don’t worry? He needed a good long think? She’d said too much. When she’d qualified her “I need you too” with the “to keep me sane” he’d acted like he accepted that but it seemed clear now that he didn’t believe the second half and it had pushed him away. She was likely going to lose him – and yet, connected by the mental link could never be free of him. She swore, moving down the hall.

***

She brooded as she went about her day, mood darkening all the more the later it got without Psly’s return. Jonathan’s nanny finally shooed her out of the nursery when she almost yelled at the fussy baby. The gypsy had flinched, agreed with Sardi, and taken herself to the Arena. Passing through the Inn, three gentlemen provided for temporary distractions. Scotty and his fiancé Harold were two of the most adorably sweet men she’d met in recent times. They had a propensity for blushing – especially Harold – and they never minded when she flirted with them. She’d stopped to kiss their cheeks on her way to the basement and flirt lightly, jokingly threatening to seduce both of them! Harris, also, received a hug and a kiss and gentle teasing.

The temporary lifting of her spirits wasn’t long-lived, however, as she descended into the empty basement Arena. Green-gold gaze slid to the bar and her cheeks colored. She moved that way anyway and slipped behind the ancient fixture, snagging a bottle of vodka and a glass.

Two shots were quickly consumed and her thoughts trailed back to the night before. His mood had “altered” from whatever he’d had planned – and the brief glimpse he’d accidentally given her hinted at something exciting – to a gentle joining. To her it felt so sad, their tenderness. It was almost like a goodbye. She’d ended up sobbing as they’d climaxed. He rocked her back to sleep, holding her until she fell unconscious.

And then he was gone.

She looked at the bottle of vodka in disgust; she couldn’t even get drunk and drown her sorrows that way. Don’t worry? She wasn’t worried. She was devastated. He needed a good long think? He needed to figure out how to get rid of her despite their link. He’d said he’d be there as long as she needed him to be. He wasn’t going to be. Jaycy’d ruined it, despite how hard she’d been trying to make sure it didn’t happen.

She threw the empty glass against the wall and stalked out, not bothering to pick up the shattered pieces. The broken glass was just too appropriate of a symbol for her heart.
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