[OTA] Pumpkin Faces

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

The weather was somewhat back under control, a little chill but certainly not an unhealthy one. The snow was melting, and the colors were turning, and that made Juan Pedro want to be outside.

His youngest class was in the middle of the afternoon, after school, and he decided that instead of dance lessons, today they would carve pumpkins. He'd purchased a whole bunch of them, and had them set up in the green, and he surprised the kids by claiming a field trip where he took them outside, and presented to them their trip.

Pumpkins, paper, child safe scissors, child safe carving sets, glue, paint, brushes, a whole assortment of goodies to do up some great jack o lanterns. They wouldn't last til halloween but they'd certainly be a fun, creative way to spend an afternoon outdoors. And there were plenty of the orange squashes for more than just his students. If any adults or young people decided to come and join the fun, the better.

To keep in the mood of Spanish dance class, he'd set up a sound system that was playing latin music, as he sat down with the kids to start working on a pumpkin. So far, it seemed a great success.

Comments

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"There's much better things to be afraid of than being thrown from a horse."

Admittedly, she's a tad biased, what with Andrew's murder barely more than a year ago; with the attempt against David's life so recent. With the Arcana Embassy coming down; with the sudden freeze knocking out the power.

And really, a person doesn't fear those things half so much when they've spent the last six years learning to properly handle a dagger or a knife. "Besides, Evander and I understand each other. I think-- it's like how you meet some people, and at first you think they're horrid because everyone else tells you they are, but... the more you know them, and the more they know you, the more you realize you've a world in common, and the easier it is to like them. He's far nicer to me than to most anyone else."

Evander did, after all, greatly resemble the man who had given him to Eileen.

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

"Oh, is there?"

Sometimes, he had an urge to pull Eileen into his arms and tell her everything would be alright. She'd probably hate it, but his heart went out for her, and he prayed for her every night. Because she seemed so deserving of love, and yet so lacking in it from others.

"Do you meet a lot of people like that, Eileen? People whom you think you hate and then find out you can relate to?" And then he laughs softly, rising to get coffee for himself.

"If I was your horse, I would be nicer to you than other people, too."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

It's the little things she appreciates more. The fact he'd saved a pumpkin for her; the occasional pat on the shoulder or brush of fingers against her cheek while a scarf is wrapped around her neck. That's all she needs, really.

"A person can't help meeting them here. Everyone's completely contented to rely on the four humours to rule their judgement others the moment they hear a person's Suit, don't you think?"

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

He'd do a lot of things for her. Not because she was his Ace but because he cherished her. He'd do more but he'd tried bigger things and she tended to balk at them. Little things she allowed. He was learning this the hard way.

"The four humours?" He sat back down, sipping his coffee. "What is that?" She was about 200% more versed in politics and psychology than he was. He was a dancer and a model. Intellectual pursuits were never big for him, even if he did consider himself smarter than most of the models he ever worked alongside.

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"Chole, melan chole, phlegma and haima." There's something almost automated to her repetition of the Greek, a slight bobbing of her head like she's been made to say them a million times before. It bleeds away as she continues, moves into words that are more clearly her own. "People used to believe they regulated who people were, which meant that the world could be broken down into four general personality types--choleric, melancholic, phlegmatic and sanguine. It was generally thought that everyone in the world could be fit into one of those categories. Like into one of the four Suits."

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

"Ah, los humores... ok si entiendo eso." He just didn't know what they were called, but he knew of the four personality archetypes.

"It is a shame that people tend to stereotype the suits though. There are plenty of people who are atypical and very happy being hearts or spades or diamonds, not just clubs." He smiled at her "And you are nothing if not atypical, querida, no one should easily stereotype you."

"Hungry? Thirsty?" he asked, as he sipped his coffee. "It is late, I have soup. Unless you want something to drink, chiquita."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"It's not that there's no truth in archetypes," she postulates with the faintest tilt of her head, knife pausing just a moment to adjust the angle before she plunges into the pumpkin again. "There is. And it's not unlikely that there's influence to being given a single overarching assignation while you're here."

And then the knife pauses again--but this time so she can properly glance up at him.

"...I don't suppose you've got cocoa, do you?"

Who says she can't be a child in her own way.

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

"Cocoa, pues claro. Piensas, que soy bruto?" He gets up to make her cocoa. He has south american chocolate powder, and he uses milk instead of water. He heats the milk up in the microwave, and then stirs in the rich chocolate, before setting it down on the table beside her, and sitting back down.

"No you are right, there is always at least a little truth in most things, but people's whose opinions are based solely on stereotypes are very narrow minded indeed."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

There's the brief flash of a smile for that before she sets back to the work of carving the pumpkin, interrupted only by the faint click of Kevin's tongue when she sets the knife down and starts to pull out one of her own. After a brief moment of consideration, she'll set in with a paring knife instead.

"You'll always find narrow-minded people, though. No matter where you go in the world, even. Isn't that right?"

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

His eyes dart to Kevin, and then back at her, only barely registering that she was going to use her own knife to cut the pumpkin. And chuckles, in recognition.

"I am afraid that is true, it doesn't make it any less sad."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"No, it doesn't," she agrees with a little bob of her head, pausing from the pumpkin briefly to lift the cocoa to her lips. "Is it at least reassuring that people are the same everywhere?"

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

He shrugs "Is that a silver lining?" he leans over, and peers at the carving of a face she's started to cut out.

"Well, querida, you are the best with the knife so far." he sets his coffee mug down, eyeing her quietly "What is it exactly?"

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"It is. There's consistency, at least, even if it's not the sort of consistency we'd like."

There's a faint smile as she sits back on her heels slightly, takes another sip of cocoa and examines what she's cut so far. "It's a lot easier than throwing them. And it's going to be a joker--without the word across the top."

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

"Verdad."

He smiles with her smile, and studies the drawing/carving, leaning on his cheek "I will say this for you chiquita, you have high goals. Do you need a smaller knife? for details?"

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

Down goes the mug, but her fingers hesitate without actually picking up the paring knife again. "D'you have a smaller one?"

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

He picks up his own mug and goes to refill it, and then finds a much smaller knife. Used for cutting the peel off fruit. It came as part of something he'd bought ages before. A dressing, or some sort of kit, he couldn't quite remember.

But it was petite, and he'd never really used it. Resting it carefully beside the other knives on the newspaper, he sat down and sipped.

"Careful, it is very sharp."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

It's probably not the best thing in the world, but she perks up slightly at being handed a new knife. There's little actual Spade blood in her, but Julien and David have fingerprints all over her.

"Thank you." She'll only twirl it once before moving to start cutting again, at least.

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

He chuckles "You have too much glee over that knife, chiquita..." he comments, sipping his coffee before he scoots his chair closer to hers so he can watch her carve from the right direction.

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"It's a nice knife," she murmurs, attention mostly distracted by the details of the card she's carving. "What's wrong with enjoying product of quality?"

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

He laughs "It's a sharp knife, but the handle is made of plastic... It was a free with purchase prize. I am not sure I would call it nice."

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"It's sharp and it's doing the job I want it to be doing. What else could a person want in a knife?" At least in a pumpkin-carving knife, right?

[tangodebaston.livejournal.com]

"Eileen, me prometes algo? Keep seeing the silver lining, ok?"

[lowtohigh.livejournal.com]

"Lo prometo." It's out mostly automatically before she pauses, glances up properly from the pumpkin. "I promise I'll try, anyway."

That's all anyone could ever really promise, after all.