Oil and Water (Costin)

[Gwyn Locksley]

Gwyn Locksley was never one to sit idle. She was always running or training or practicing something; the only time she ever seemed to sit still for more than ten minutes was in class, and even that was a struggle. She had a short attention span when it came to just sitting and listening, she would rather be out doing; she would rather do something than read about it. So why was she sitting practically motionless now, her eyes staring fixedly at the constantly disturbed water of the fountain? Because her brain was overloaded. That was also something she wasn’t used to.

Her brain and her... everything. Her feelings. Her mind and her heart were this one big confusing jumble and she didn’t know what to do about it. A boy liked her, and it wasn’t a bet or a dare or someone who just didn’t know anything about her, and while that would be normal for most girls it was completely foreign to Gwyn. Of course what made it even more confusing was that it wasn’t just any boy, it was Gaston, her brother’s best friend, possibly her own best friend and the only guy she had ever formed any sort of crush on.

So what was the problem? Well, apparently, the problem was her. He had spouted all the things any girl would dream of hearing; he had flattered her and spoke to her heart and she had... turned him down. So now not only was she all tied in knots about him liking her, but the fact that maybe everyone else was right and there truly was something wrong with her. Being faced with this surprise she had discovered a side of herself that she didn’t care for, and she really hated doubting herself about anything.

Staring down at her reflection at the calm edge of the fountain, Gwyn slapped her hand down on it, disrupting the surface like that closer to the centre. And she really hated hating anything about herself.

[Costin Dracula]

Costin Dracula was convinced that there was no job in the world, probably in the universe, that was as difficult as being Costin Dracula. This had not been an incredibly good week for him, in fact, quite the opposite. He had been in a nice mood (i.e. not intolerable) and then some child (probably about seventeen) had dropped their lunch down his back. It had been "an accident" of course, but Costin hated food, hated the act of eating, hated the fact that he had to do it, and having food poured down his back was an even worse insult, so he was genuinely put out when he made his way out towards the fountain.

And then, as if it wouldn't have been acceptable for him to just sit there and sulk by himself as he tended to do, the one person who could possibly have meddled with his mood any further happened to be sitting there. Not just sitting, she was...lashing out violently at the water or something, and he wasn't quite sure whether she was just being playful or angry or...no, she definitely looked upset, and probably too old to be amused by splashing around in a fountain for no reason.

So he decided that, because he was uniquely skilled at bothering people, and because bothering people made him feel better about his own misery, he would intrude upon her solitude and try to work out what her problem might be.

"What terrible thing has the water done to you?" he inquired, coming to sit down on the edge of the fountain a short distance from her.

[Gwyn Locksley]

Starting at the sudden voice, Gwyn looked up in surprise as Costin came to sit near her. He certainly wasn’t the last person she wanted to see right now, most of the girls at school ranked higher than him on that list, but she was still quite certain that this wasn’t going to help her confusion. Their last conversation had been nothing if not confusing, though on another level strangely interesting an intriguing, but she had the feeling that he did not do sympathy well.

Not that she wanted sympathy, because she didn’t. She just... she didn’t know what she wanted.

“Nothing,” Gwyn answered with a slightly petulant tone. “Here to dispose of another letter? Because I don’t think the water would be any more effective than the wind was.”

It was a terrible comeback but she wasn’t exactly on top of her game right now, not that she was particularly good at comebacks even when she was.

[Costin Dracula]

Gwyn was right. Costin did not do sympathy well. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was try to force himself to feel what someone else was feeling in some pathetic attempt to make them feel better. Mostly he liked to make other people feel bad about themselves because he felt bad about himself and if he couldn't be happy with his life, why should anybody else? They sickened him, with their naive acceptance of their limited little lives and the things they didn't even bother to worry about, like growing old and dying, or wasting time eating.

Gwyn, however, was tolerable. Even if she kept going back to that stupid letter thing. Was she going to harp on that every time they conversed, he wondered? Here she was slapping fountains and she was honestly going to go back to the stupid thing he'd done however long ago.

"No," he said, keeping his tone civil, "no more letters. Although I do have a graded exam that I might consider drowning, now that you mention it. Bloody history of the universe course. I see no need to take a class on such things when I've been raised by people who witnessed most of it firsthand."

[Gwyn Locksley]

Clearly Costin also didn’t take a hint easily either. Gwyn thought it was perfectly clear that she did not desire any company right now, but he didn’t seem to be moving. Letting out a sigh, she wiped her hand on the leg of her trousers and just gave him a look.

Surprisingly, he didn’t jump to the defensive or reply just as childishly as she had. To be completely honest, his reply was actually almost amusing. Well, the first part of it, at least. The latter part was rather confusing, but Gwyn was beginning to expect that from him.

“I see no need of most of the classes they expect us to take here, though history is one of the better ones,” she replied. Of course she only felt that way because one day she planned for her own name to be in those books, though she would prefer ballads and tales be told about her instead, as they were about her parents. “Though I prefer to make my own than read about others unless they’re worthwhile.”