Save Me From Myself, ;; Marcel

[Olivia White]

Olivia had spend a good portion of her evening doing her new favorite hobby...drinking wine. She knew it wasn't smart to drink as much as she had been lately, but getting drunk was the only thing that seemed to numb that pain that she felt since leaving Cain. Sometimes she went out to the bar to drink, sometimes she stayed in her hotel room with a sappy romance film and a box of wine. Though lately she was spending more time drinking at her hotel and less time drinking in public.

The last time she had gone out, she woke up the next morning in Rhett's bed wearing nothing but his shirt, with no memory of the previous evening and a killer headache. She had a very good idea as to what happened, as she was a bit sore the next day, but a part of her was much too ashamed to admit it. She was not that kind of girl! She didn't meet people at bars and sleep with them. And certainly not people as old as Rhett, who also happened to be one of Cain's employees AND Sofia's sire. She was just glad that he was a young enough vampire that he hadn't stirred as she gathered her things and left, because if there was one thing she wanted to avoid, it was that awkward morning after making a huge mistake.

By the time her movie ended, she had managed to drink 3 and a half glasses of wine and decided that since the movie she had been watching was French, she needed to see her favorite Frenchman. She'd sent Marcel a text message, asking him to meet her at their spot on the beach, knowing he'd know where she meant....as long as he could figured out what she meant through her drunken spelling errors.

Still in the jeans and shirt that she had been wearing all day, she slipped on a pair of flats and pulled on her coat and scarf, before heading down to catch a cab to the beach. She didn't know why she had decided to go to the beach, she just wanted to get out of her room and the beach seemed to be a good place to go. She just hoped that Marcel would come, she needed to see him and talk to him. He always seemed to make things better.

Paying the cabbie once they arrived at the beach, she began towards the rocky area that was her and Marcel's meeting place, stopping to slide off her shoes and roll up her jeans a few inches. She found the walk through the sand a bit harder thanks to her wine intake, wobbling quite a bit and nearly falling more than once. Silently celebrating her victory in reaching the rocks, she set her shoes down and leaned back against one of the larger rocks for support, her attention on the water and the waves that were crashing in.

[Marcel LaCroix]

It had been at the insistence of his few "friends" (i.e. Sofia and Olivia) that Marcel had finally invested in a cell phone. He didn't pay much attention to it. He was prone to leaving it out for days until the battery ran down and would leave it uncharged for a few days more. But once in a while, the phone was actually functioning, and so it was tonight. Halfway through his second drunk, the phone in his pocket buzzed and interrupted his feeding. His first drink had been a skinny little ginger girl who had practically plastered herself to the wall with strawberry wine coolers. Even her blood tasted like strawberry, almost. The one he was working on during the phone-buzz was a gay 30-year-old with frosted hair and a taste for green apple Schnapps. Which was possibly the most vile thing Marcel had ever heard of, but at least the man had been drunk enough to let Marcel take advantage. Only when the man with the out-of-date hair and terrible taste in alcohol had been sufficiently drained and dropped snoozing onto the tarmac did Marcel pull the cell out of his pocket to read the badly-spelled text from what appeared to be a likewise inebriated Olivia.

She wanted him to meet at the beach. He didn't even have to text back, which was good since he wouldn't have done it. He knew where she meant - the rocks, where they had met once or twice before. The last time had been helpful...for the both of them. Of course, it had been nearly three years earlier, but he remembered perfectly the stretch of rocks that stretched from the sandy shore into the cold grey water. It was a pain in the ass to get to, but Marcel didn't really mind... He liked seeing Olivia. She got pissed at him sometimes, and had even stopped speaking to him once or twice, but in the end, she was the only person who ever seemed to accept him back into her imaginary fold without judgement. Either that, or she judged and still found him worthy...a thought he rather preferred.

It didn't take long for Marcel to drive to the beach, considering he was accidentally speeding the entire way. He wasn't drunk, but he was definitely seeing double from time to time, if he didn't concentrate. When he got there, he almost didn't see Olivia. He saw someone, some young woman huddled slightly against the chilly autumn wind blowing in from the ocean. But he didn't see any blonde hair. His Olivia was blonde. The closer he got and the more he recognized her distinct aura of Olivianess, though, he knew it was her. He sighed to himself; why would she dye her damn hair? He walked up behind her, as silent as a cat over the sand. He smiled faintly to himself for a moment, just looking down at the only person who'd always taken him back... He'd missed her.

"Bonjour, mon ange," he said softly, slurring only slightly through his ill-gotten booze.

[Olivia White]

The beach was one of Olivia's favorite places to go. Any time she needed to think about things, she always ended up there. Perhaps part of it was because it reminded her of home. The bed and breakfast her family owned was right along the beach, so she had spent almost her entire life near the water. Now, having moved half-way across the world and to the city, she seemed to find some sort of comfort in the way the waves crashed on the shore.

So many things had happened to her on the beach. She'd met Cain and Thane there the night she was mourning Marcel's death. Then there was the night that she had slept with Thane after they both realized they felt something towards each other. And how could she ever forget the night that Marcel kissed her? She couldn't remember anything they had talked about, but she certainly hadn't forgotten how it felt when his lips had met hers. Even if it was brief, and meant nothing, it was something she had come to associate with this spot, thus why she had told Marcel to meet her there.

Considering just how much wine she had drank, she was doing fairly well thus far, though something she had learned from drinking that was it was different being wine-drunk than it was liquor-drunk. Firstly, you didn't needl nearly as much. Secondly, it wasn't a wild kind of drunk that she had learned to associate with shots or mixed drinks. It was a more calm drunk, though calm didn't stop things from spinning if she didn't concentrate on seeing straight.

Right now, the ocean was swirling around in some weird pattern that was making her a bit naseous, but oddly enough, she found herself memorized by it's beauty. And in fact, she had been so lost in it, that she hadn't even heard Marcel approach, snapping out of her drunken trance when the Frenchman finally spoke. She immediately smiled at her nickname, looking up at him and taking in a deep breath, the saltwater slightly burning her nostrils "You came," she said softly, pushing herself from the rock and taking a few steady steps to meet him. "I wasn't sure if you got my message," her speech was careful as she tried her best to sound sober, even if she knew that he'd know better. She met his gaze for a moment, standing in silence before slowly wrapping her arms around him for a hug, laying her head on his chest. "I've missed you so much," she practically choked out, trying not to think about the last time she had seen him in Cain's office.

[Marcel LaCroix]

It was a moment before Olivia realized he was standing behind her, watching her like a creep, but he didn't feel the need to enlighten her any sooner than that. Why bother? She figure it out soon enough, and in the meantime... He just wanted to look at her. Of course, she didn't really look like her anymore, with her hair dark. It didn't look bad, but anyone who knew Marcel knew that he preferred lighter hair. (Which may or may not have made him a hypocrite, as he was a natural brunette, but really, he just liked blonde women.) What had made her do something so silly? Of course, she didn't look very happy nor sounded it on the phone, and he caught the distinct tang of alcohol somewhere about her person. Good alcohol, at least; wine, or something comparable. At least, he thought, it wasn't vodka. Repulsive stuff. Quick and easy, but repulsive.

After that short little moment had passed, Olivia seemed to realize someone was standing behind her. Also, he spoke, which probably helped. She stood and promtly wrapped her arms around his middle in a big, snuggly hug. He hadn't had a hug this good in weeks.

"You came... I wasn't sure if you got my message." Olivia sounded more or less like Olivia, but had a faintly blurred edge to her voice that indicated that she wasn't any more sober than he was. He wasn't too bothered, although he was a little disconcerted. How much had Olivia been drinking, and why? It wasn't like her. At least, he didn't think so. It occurred to him that he didn't know her very well these days. "I've missed you so much..."

There was a second of hesitation, prompted only by faint surprise, but Marcel readily returned the hugging, pulling the young woman close to his chest. He kissed the top of her head. He really had missed her... She was the only one who always forgave him for who he was. The only one.

"I missed you too, cheri," he said. Oh God, listen to the pair of them. Both half in the bag and spouting silly endearments. "Although I have to say...I find myself missing your hair as well." He pulled back and flicked a lock of long unnaturally brown hair. "Really, Olivia. Brown?" His lips twitched in a good-natured smirk; he couldn't help it.

[Olivia White]

Olivia was so glad to see that her Marcel had come to see her at the beach. Yes, her Marcel. Aside from Sofia, Marcel was really the only other person she knew she could turn to. Sure, they had their times when they'd fought, but in the end, things always worked out. And she knew that he'd be there for her just like she'd be there for him.

The moment she heard him speak, her mood instantly got better. The way her nickname rolled off his tongue in that unmistakable French accent...it made her want to run over and tackle him with a hug. But she was much too drunk too even think about running or jumping. Instead, she slowly walked to him and hugged him, both because she wanted to embrace him and because she needed him for support.

She'd told him how much she missed him, and practically clung to him, the smile on her face growing once more when he returned the hug and told her that he missed her as well. It was a really good hug. Not one of those hugs that people sometimes gave just because they didn't know what else to do. This hug was so heartfelt and real. It was comforting to be in Marcel's embrace and honestly, she really didn't want to let go.

Marcel had been the one to finally pull back, making a comment about her hair. Oh...right. She almost forgot about that little detail. It was probably a good thing he was a vampire and could sense her, otherwise he might not have known it was her sitting there. Wrinkling her nose up when he flicked her hair, she shrugged lightly, still smiling despite his playful scolding. "I'm sorrrrry," she dragged it out, throwing her head back a bit. "It was an attempt at coping. I thought maybe it would be easier to get over Cain if I did something super rebellious and crazy. It didn't work. I kind of miss being blonde. But I have to wait a while before they can fix it. Do you hate it?" She faux pouted, reaching up to grab a lock and run her fingers through it.

[Marcel LaCroix]

The moment Olivia had noticed him and risen from her spot on the sand to give him a big, squishy Olivialike hug, Marcel felt instantly better. It wasn't relief, exactly, that settled over him like a warm blanket, but just...contentment. He could always rest assured that whatever he did, or whatever she did, they'd be there for eachother...in porbably the most ridiculous, schmaltzy way possible. Fact was, Olivia knew him as well or better than anyone else did. She was good at weaseling his emotions out of him. He'd even told her some (admittedly embarassing) things about when he was human, and human stories weren't stories he told very often at all. She knew him and accepted him for who he was...even if she didn't always agree with him. That was okay, he didn't always agree with her, either. She was always Olivia, though, and Olivia was all he wanted from her...

Even if she'd gone and made herself a damn brunette. Stupid girl...but she was young. She had time to fix that. Damn, she was young... He'd known her for two years. She wasn't a teenager. She was growing up, as much as 21-year-olds did grow up.

"I'm sorrrrry... It was an attempt at coping. .... Do you hate it?"

Marcel smirked and flicked her hair again. "'Super rebellious and crazy'?" he repeated. He looked over her dark hair one more time. "I think you could have done better than dying your hair, cheri. Next time, go pipe bomb a shopping center or something." Rebellious and crazy... It wasn't even as though she'd dyed her hair some kind of wild color! She'd dyed it brown! Oh, Olivia... She was such an innocent sometimes that it was almost sweet...and almost always amusing.

"I don't hate it," he finally conceded. "But I miss you as a blonde, too. Blonde...suits you. Saying nothing of your mental capacity, of course." He gave her a wide, teasing grin, fangs and all. "As for getting over Cain..." His smile faded and he shrugged encouragingly...or in a way he hoped was somewhat encouraging. "It will take a damn long time, ange. I won't lie and say that it won't. But you're young, and strong, and human... Humans bounce back more easily than us dead folk do. I'm surprised Cain hasn't blackened his pretty blonde locks yet." His boss was easier to make fun of when he wasn't around... Marcel worked for Cain, but even though two years had given them a kind of mutual, grudging half-respect, they were still not especially fond of one another.

[Olivia White]

Olivia had become much more impulsive lately and dying her hair dark had been one of the first things to happen. She had been out trying to do some retail therapy and she walked by a salon and bam....she decided to go brunette. It had taken her a while to get used to it, always seeing a stranger stare back at her when she looked in the mirror, but by now, it was just a part of who she was. And in a few weeks, hopefully she'd be able to go back to being blonde without completely frying her hair.

In her mind, going brunette was super rebellious and crazy, but then Marcel had to go an mock her about it. She let out a playful scoff and rolled her eyes when gave her a better suggestion for being rebellious and crazy. Hello. Did he realize who he was talking to? This was about as crazy as she got. Unless you counted her one night stand with Rhett, but she wasn't about to talk about that to anyone. Ever. When he finally decided that he didn't hate it, she couldn't help but grin a little more. "Good. Because if you hated it, I might have to use physical force to convince you otherwise," she giggled again, the way that only she seemed to be able to do, obviously feeling the effects from her wine more strongly than she anticipated.

Of course, they both knew that her physical force would be nothing against a vampire, but she could attempt to threaten him in good fun. She got serious for a moment as he spoke about her getting over Cain, explaining that it wouldn't be easy, and that it would take time. Yea...she knew that. Hence why she'd made friends with the box of Merlot in her hotel room mini-fridge. "I'll be fine. I know I will. In time. But honestly Marcel...I think I might still love him." She pulled away from him to take a seat in the sand, her bare feet digging in as she watched the grains trickle off her foot. She knew that most of this confession was because she was drunk, but that didn't make it less true.

"I know you don't like him. And that Sofia doesn't like him, but he treated me like a princess. It was just like I always imagined falling in love would be." She trailed off...staring at the water for a moment, before looking back up at him, realizing it was time for a change of subject. She did not need to be thinking about Cain right now. "Sorry...I'm rambling...and I'm drunk..." she took his hand and tugged him so that he'd sit beside her. "Change of subject now please."

[Marcel LaCroix]

"I'll be fine. I know I will. In time. But honestly Marcel...I think I might still love him. I know you don't like him. And that Sofia doesn't like him, but he treated me like a princess. It was just like I always imagined falling in love would be."

Marcel rolled his eyes. If he'd been human and in possession of a bottle of whiskey, he would have taken a hard swig. He did understand, he did know how she felt, did she think that he didn't? He assumed Cain treated Olivia the way she deserved; she wasn't the brightest bulb on the chandelier sometimes (sympomatic of being 20 years old), but she knew better than to stay with someone who treated her badly. His treatment of Olivia wasn't the problem Marcel had with Cain, and Olivia had never seemed to comprehend that.

"Right," he grumbled, settling down into the sand next to her. "He treated you like a princess...and everyone else like shit. Not for nothing, cheri, but for all the problems I have in relationships, I do know that how my lover treats my friends and people I care about is just as fucking important as how they treat me. Caring any way else is just damned selfish."

"Sorry...I'm rambling...and I'm drunk... Change of subject now please."

"Heartily agreed," he sighed, knowing he wouldn't get through to her now, or ever. Fine. He'd let her go down that road if she wanted. She and Cain were seperated now anyway; he could only hope to God things stayed that way. He fall back into the sand, stretching luxuriously. So much open space... He didn't come to the beach very often. Why was that? He should have... "And that makes two of us... The drunk part, that is. Funny, you just happened to give me a drunken phone call while I was in the process of attempted to get myself as plastered as vampirically possible. IT didn't work, by the way. Stay human, Olivia; it's easier to obtain alcohol that way."

[Olivia White]

Olivia had always been the type to put her friends before her. She wanted to make sure that she made them happy before she even thought about making herself happy. But Cain had been the one exception. She hadn't even really known that Sofia didn't like Cain. He never told her about his meeting with her, nor had Sofia bothered to keep in contact with her. But she knew damn well how Marcel felt about him and what Cain did to the Frenchman, yet she'd turned a blind eye. She needed to do what she wanted for once and not worry about making everyone else happy. She needed to make herself happy first.

But apparently Marcel thought that had been the wrong choice. Of course it had....because she couldn't seem to do anything right. It wasn't like Marcel was the best person to look up to for relationship advice, but he was going to give it to her anyways. He called it selfish of her for not caring how her lover treated her friends, and she could feel herself getting annoyed. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but changed her mind and asked for them to change the subject instead.

It wasn't worth it to fight Marcel. He was her friend and really all she had right now. She didn't even have Sofia to go to, so she should just keep her mouth shut and let it go. He agreed to change the subject, making himself more comfortable in the sand and mentioning that she wasn't the only one drunk. He was drunk? Vampires could get drunk? She didn't know that. He'd told her to stay human because it was easier to get alcohol that way and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Don't worry about me, Marcel. I plan on staying human for the next 70 years," she grinned and looked over to him, taking him in for a moment. "Or less, I suppose." Letting out a sigh, she scooted over closer to him, leaning up against him in an attempt to warm up, resting her head on her shoulder. "What about your love life? Are you having any better luck thank me?"

[Marcel LaCroix]

"Don't worry about me, Marcel. I plan on staying human for the next 70 years. Or less, I suppose."

Marcel, laying back on the sand with his arms folded beneath his head, frowned slightly. Less? 70 years, that would make Olivia about 90... Who was she kidding? Of course she'd live longer than that. She'd get old and die, obviously, but she'd live a good, long, healthy life, surrounded by babies and grandbabies and greatgrandbabies. He had to believe that... Olivia was like a mathematical constant. She was an axis, a focal point, something steady and solid for him to concentrate on when his world began to tilt. She could never be anything else. Someday she'd be older... No longer the little girl, but the woman. Someday she'd be the age he was as a human, and then she'd keep going, growing older and wiser and happier as her life began to grow in a way his never had. She would progress beyond the childish clinging to what Marcel had once mistaken as freedom, and her heart would keep growing and growing, and the Olivia that Marcel so adored would never fade away.

If she ever went back to Cain, though...he was afraid that someday, she would. Fade.

Olivia snuggled up to his side, and Marcel smiled faintly down at her, turning one arm to wrap it around her slim little waist. He had forgotten it was cold out... He was wearing a coat, a knee-length black wool affair, but it was mostly for show. A disguise, of sorts. She was, of course, human. She could feel the autumn chill breezing in off the ocean much more keenly than he could. He was just too numb.

"What about your love life? Are you having any better luck than me?"

His smile faded and he rested his chin on top of Olivia's head, inhaling the mingling scents of salt and cold and Olivia's shampoo. "My love life," he said bluntly, "is, as usual, a most spectacular failure. I fucked up, mon ange. And this time, I actually regret it. I mean, enough to do something about it, not just sweep it under the rug, but...this time... I don't think there's anything I can do to make her forget." He sighed and turned his head so he was resting his cheek atop her head, not his chin. "I'm about 97% certain it's over, for good."