Mail - (rp for sand_andwater)

[fey_fire]

Most days Rory Stone opened his apartment mailbox to find the usual pedestrian pile of paper: bills and junk mail, with the occasional card or note from friends or family or maybe a package containing something he'd ordered online. Not much in the way of fan mail, not here. While Breaker Street had been playing the clubs, those fans who were inclined toward gifts or handwritten letters of praise usually just dropped them off wherever their next gig was scheduled, or brought them in person. Now arrangements were underway to have the band's mail received and screened by a discreet PA at Serptichore Records, though likely that person wouldn't have too much to do at first. So the typical daily accumulation of mail for an up-and-coming rocker was pretty boring, all told. Most days.

Today, however, he'd pulled a package out of his box, one with colorful Italian stamps and a postmark that read VENEZIA. He'd known who it was from before he spotted Pippa's name on the return address.

Once back in his apartment, he sat down at the dining room table and set the rest of the mail aside to turn the package over and over in his fingers. Any communication from his ex-lover carried with it the promise of pain, even if it was only the stinging memory of loss. After long minutes he popped open the tape and unwrapped the small box. Inside lay a men's bracelet in silver and black, tasteful and stylish, clearly the sort of thing Pippa would choose. Under the gift rested a handwritten letter. He read it through twice, taking in Pippa's words of encouragement, pride and best wishes, for Breaker Street and especially for him. After the second read-through, he stared at her closing salutation and wondered if he should ask Junie to translate the Italian.

You were supposed to be here. He sighed and fastened the bracelet around his left wrist, catching bits of his reflection in the polished silver rectangles adorning the piece. She would have been here were it not for the bastard who'd tortured her very nearly to death. Rory and his family had saved Pippa's life and healed her body, but they'd been unable to reclaim their relationship from the emotional wreckage, the trauma they'd both suffered.

He could write her a return letter, keep everything safe and non-confrontational. No more bruises that way. And yet ... he had said he'd call her sometime, and what better reason was he likely to get?

Staring at his eyes reflected in the silver, Rory pulled out his cell phone and called up his contact list.

Comments

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

It was a good bit later in the day for Pippa, Venice being hours ahead of New York, and the gaffer was currently waging war against one determined feline and just who had divine province over the pillows lining the head of bed. "Now listen here, Tiberius, this is not your bed. Not. Your. Bed. For heaven's sake...will you just scoot now?"

In response to her lecture, the fat tom curled himself up right in the center of her pillow and closed his eyes. "I loathe you--" Pippa spat in Italian just as her phone rang, cutting her tirade short. "Pronto!"

She hadn't bothered to check the display, she merely wanted to answer before the loud ring tone (music, the opening bars to her current favorite song) woke Signore Alessandro.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

When he heard Pippa's voice, Rory felt the same confusion of thoughts-- things he wanted to say, things he probably shouldn't say, things he had no idea how to say --all jumbling in a logjam of unspoken words at his lips. The sensation was becoming familiar, much to his chagrin.

Keep it simple, Rory. Focusing on the bracelet again, he did just that. "Hello, Pippa. I hope I haven't called too late, but I got your gift."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"Ro!" The sound of his voice caught her attention and she smiled, her voice warming to a cheerful tone instead of the scolding one she'd had for the cat. "No, no it's not to late. I've told you I don't care about the time."

And then she did shove the cat off her bed. A loud thump and then a plaintive mew followed by a sharp hiss could be heard before Tiberius fled further abuse. "Rotten, nasty..." Pippa muttered under her breath before smiling again. It was almost easy to let herself pretend that nothing were amiss and that Rory calling her wasn't enough to put her stomach in knots. He got her gift. That also meant he got her letter, the one she wrote and rewrote to carefully leave out anything she really wanted to say to him.

"I'm glad it got there to you all right. And quickly. I never know with international mail..." She paused, licked her lips. Why was she nervous? Only because it always felt as if everything were riding on her next words during these phone calls. "I hope you don't mind me sending it to you." Do you like it?

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory smiled at Pippa's voice and quirked an eyebrow at what sounded like a cat being displaced. While she talked about the mail, he drew a deep breath of the kind he usually took on stage, to avoid noises in the mic. Steady, quiet and ... somewhat tension-easing.

"I don't mind at all," he answered Pippa softly, wondering if they were doomed to be on eggshells with each other from now on. "It's beautiful." He moved his wrist to change how the bracelet catches the light. "I'm wearing it right now."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She flipped her pillow over before laying down on it, her expression changing once more as he admitted to wearing the bracelet. Her hand held just over her heart and her smile as warm as her voice was whisper soft, "Oh, Ro..."

Pippa rolled onto her side and looked to her night stand, focusing on the guitar pick necklace draped over an empty photo frame. She couldn't bring herself to wear the necklace but neither could she lock it away anywhere. "I'm, well, I'm happy you like it. It just seemed like something you'd wear and--"

She interrupted herself, hating how hard it seemed to hold a conversation with him simply because she kept trying to filter her words and choose them far too carefully. He was the one person she never had to do that with. She didn't want to do it now. "Tell me how you've been."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory kept running into the same self-editing issues. "I've been--" exhausted, confused, lonely "--all right. Busy, of course. We got the video shoot done, and of course that's the end of our input on that. I have to wonder if we'll recognize the finished product." He chuckled slightly at the thought of what the editors might concoct.

Going on about Breaker Street was easier than discussing topics that touched too closely on himself, but he reminded himself that he'd called Pippa for other reasons. "I also wanted to thank you for your letter," he offered after another deep breath. "I ... appreciated it." Even the painful bits.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"I meant everything I wrote." And so many other things she wanted to write. "You're amazing, Rory. I've always thought that about you, your music."

Pippa closed her eyes then, she wasn't going to let herself tear up this time, this call. Just once she wanted to talk to him without crying. "You don't have to thank me for that."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"I don't have to, I know." His voice stays soft and gentle, maybe slightly roughened with emotion. "But I wanted to. Your support has always meant a great deal to me."

He deliberately put a smile on his face, knowing that it would be audible in his tone. "So how are things going with you? Is the Signore still being a lovable tyrant?" No, he was not going to ask about her friend Marcello.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

If she hears the gruff undertone of his emotion in those softly offered words, Pippa refrains from commenting on it. She won't do anything to make this harder on him. "He is the most aggravating man I know, so impossible sometimes." Her exasperation with her mentor is something she doesn't bother to hide, nor is her affection for the same said man. "This morning he declared that I should be planted headfirst into the ground so that I can grow like the stubborn--oh, never mind. It was incredibly insulting and totally ridiculous. He's upset with me because I'm working on something that involves sand casting instead of glass blowing."

Pippa goes on to describe what she means, using wet sand as a form to hold the molten glass and to shape it much like the resin casts sculptors use in other mediums. It's the subject matter she avoids telling Rory about. How is she supposed to impart the fact that he's what she's creating? "He's really going to have a fit when I have Andrea show me how to use the blow torch to do something other than keep the glass hot and malleable."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"What other need will you have for the torch?" Rory relaxed by inches, his smile no longer something he had to consciously apply. Pippa sounded so very like Tadhg as she talked about casting techniques; he enjoyed hearing her talk about her work even when he couldn't follow every detail.

He recognized another emotion welling up as he listened: a kind of bittersweet relief. All the hurt involved in their breakup had at least lead to this result, that Pippa could reclaim her art, though she had to fight her missing finger and the truculent Signore Alessandro to do it. Rory let the animation in her voice act as a balm for his loss, let the knowledge that she was starting to heal push aside more selfish considerations.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She was healing in some ways, many ways...but there was a tender spot in her heart that still felt as raw as it ever had and Pippa wasn't sure it would ever heal. Not without him in her life. Still..."Oh, I'm just after a bit of iron working, it's somewhat necessary for what I have in mind and frankly, it's mine and I'm not about to let someone else have a hand in the finished product."

It was bad enough she'd have to ask for assistance with some minor steps along the way. Pippa hated giving up any measure of control over her art or her life. Learning to let go in small ways was part of what Alessandro was trying to force her to do, let go and find the freedom to focus on what mattered most.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"Iron work?" He remembered his occasional visits to the blacksmith that produced the shoes their horses wore. The scent of hot iron always lent a intriguing hint of danger to the air, at least for a fey like him. He'd never developed Tadhg's fascination for metalwork, though.

"Sounds ambitious, sweet. Good for you." The endearment slipped out unexpectedly, but it didn't trigger quite the pang it had in their recent conversations.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"In conjunction with the glass, yes." She suddenly remembered what he was and not just who, things he'd mentioned to her over the course of the last year about what being fae meant. Iron...maybe she'd rethink a thing or two. Still, the melding of the two artforms intrigued her and if she didn't use it now, maybe she would later.

Sweet. His voice made the word hold so many different shades of meaning for her and Pippa clutched her phone a little more tightly. Every time he called her by the pet name, a little bit of hope was fanned and fueled somewhere inside of her. "I can't wait for you to see it, Ro."

The words were out before she had a chance to think about them. Would he even have any interest? Would the piece hold any meaning for him? Was he going to understand?

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

She wanted him to see it. Rory felt torn between a surge of warmth that Pippa wanted him to see and enjoy her art and a forlorn sadness that she still couldn't listen to his with a whole heart. "I look forward to it. I'm sure it will be spectacular."

Yes, he was, even if he didn't know when or how he would be able to see Pippa's creation. Venice was a long way away, and Lord knew when his schedule would allow him to travel that distance for any length of time.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Oh, he had no idea. If Pippa could bring to life the image she had in her head, spectacular would be an understatement, at least to her. This wasn't just another piece of glass sculpture to her, this was something absolutely vital. "You sound so much more optimistic than the Signore or Marcello."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He didn't twitch at the mention of Marcello's name. Well all right, he did, but not audibly. "I've heard that determined note in your voice before," he said with a trace of a chuckle. "I certainly won't be the one to lay odds against you."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"And you think they haven't?" She managed to laugh as well, sobering up quickly because his words really did touch her. Regardless of who she'd known longer, Rory knew her better. "Thank you, Ro. It's nice to know someone is in my corner instead of trying to force me out of it."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory's eyes close briefly as he listens to the note of laughter in Pippa's voice. Yes. "I've never left your corner, Pippa," he says after swallowing down the sudden tightness in his throat. "And I never will. I believe in you, too."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

So much for getting through this call without tears. His words and the pause between them are enough to bring that familiar sting to the backs of her eyes and then the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "Oh, Ro...I lo--" She chocked up, cut herself off. Telling him that she loved him wasn't going to do anything but make this hurt all the worse.

"I think you're one of the few."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

The words that Pippa does not allow into the air nonetheless rang in Rory's skull. What was a lover supposed to do when love could not heal all wounds?

If he was a creature of belief, he'd have to make belief suffice. Believe, and let time heal what love could not. Maybe eventually it would heal the ache in his heart.

Until then ... "You'll do it, Pippa. I know you will. And you'll let me know when you have, hm? I'll come see it." Somehow.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She hadn't even been thinking of Rory in Venice. Not him coming there to her place of sanctuary, no matter how much she'd longed for him to do just that. No, she'd convinced herself that he would never come to her City of Bridges. It was easier that way. When she imagined showing him her work, for some reason the floor of an art gallery was where it would take place. And in Manhattan.

It was one of those ideas that had taken root without her consciously realizing it until too late. For the first time in her life, Pippa was thinking about making her glass a career.

"Of course I will." She reached for his guitar pick necklace and played with the small piece of acrylic. "Only, my luck will have it that you're in the middle of a fan frenzy or a concert tour and won't be able to make it. I'll have to have Marcello take photographs for you."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He's just a friend, for God's sake. An inner twitch at the mention of the photographer's name has Rory silently reprimanding himself. Friend or no, such choices are Pippa's to make. Always have been.

"That would be great, thank you." He manages to make the words sound considerably easier than he feels. "But still ... I'd want to find a way to see it in person as soon as possible. There's nothing quite like experiencing art first hand, after all."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"Well, that will be a long time in coming, I can tell you that much. The perfectionist in me has taken over and I won't let anyone see it until it is exactly the way I want it to be." The way she needs it to be. And there is an audience of one that it has to be perfect for. Him.

Pippa finds herself smiling then, his determination to see something she's created makes the gaffer feel nearly giddy. There's still something of her that he is genuinely interested in, invested in. That's wonderful. "And I expect you to give me nothing but your honest opinion when you do see it, Ro."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"I wouldn't insult you with anything less." The warmth in Pippa's voice draws an answering smile from Rory. For a time he tries to set aside all the what-ifs and might-have-beens, to stop worrying about what could/would/should happen and just ... talk.

"And I fully understand about the inner perfectionist," he added. "The muse demands what the muse demands, after all."

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"Of course you do...I've seen you in the middle of the creative process before." And she misses that sight, they way he'd sit at his desk, keyboard in front of him and guitar nearby, pen in hand...

As for her muse, this particular one was nearly as demanding as the artist he inspired. "This piece, it's all I can think about. It's all I want to do and the only thing I want to be with. Nothing else really matters. If I weren't so exhausted tonight, I'd probably still be working." She turns her head as she hears the tell tale approach of that cat again. "As it is, I'm being stalked by a furry menace that wants my pillow and my blood. Cats are vile, nasty little beasts, aren't they?"