amber waves

One to two - Pasi Tammi , 2004.

Finnish , b. 1971 -

A rush of heat shoots to Tillie’s cheeks in the brief moment that their bodies connect. She had spent the entire morning missing him, and now that he was here beside her she still feels like she is dreaming. She rolls her eyes at his question. Who knew? Please. A snappy retort makes way for her tongue, and despite herself, she decides to hold it in. But that small decision brings about a myriad of questions to the front of her mind. What would be their dynamic now? Would permanent softness overtake all of the sarcasm and battle of wits? Could they banter without hurting each other? How should they be in front of other people? Even now, his voice is so sweet that she is compelled to lean over and kiss him, but she doesn't. Everything was too new and she was entirely too nervous. But he was here wasn't he? So, perhaps there was nothing to be afraid of. She places her hand on top of his and smiles. “Emmett, there is quite literally no one else I would rather see today,” she tells him, deciding honesty had done her much good recently. Tillie lingers in the tender moment before refocusing on the business waiting to be attended to. She gestures to his journal. “This is perfect. Though, before we start I guess I should apologize. This is maybe a bit intense to delve into right away.” Her eyes drift downward. She expects to feel nervous or scared, but that same strange magnetic pull she'd felt this morning pervades the air like perfume and draws her in. For a moment the world is her and the journal, but she blinks and the spell is lifted. She clears her throat. “But I think I’m ready if you are.”

“This...” Tillie glances down at the journal, her finger lightly brushing along the cover. Suddenly she is a bit intimidated. “You’ll have to help me out a bit. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at. Or supposed to find, rather."

Emmett is a bit taken aback, or surprised rather, by this change in demeanor. It seems that this morning, Tillie is feeling a bit more confident. He hopes that maybe it is his companionship that has granted her this permission to surrender. The thought of it makes his heart flutter. Something completely new is opening up in-between them, filled with more questions than answers, but he remains steady. He nods in adamant agreement. After the events of last night, Emmett fears they only have so much time to prepare themselves for what is to come. “You don’t have to apologize.” he says warmly, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. “It’s an incredibly good idea.” Emmett let’s go, digging through his things for the books he has brought along - the ones he has already heavily marked up.

His stomach drops at what he finds nestled in the bottom corner of his bag. A wrapped gift stares back at him. He had entirely forgotten about its existence until now. It’s a bittersweet discovery - one that reminds him of Tillie sitting alone in the diner on what appeared to be her birthday. Emmett vividly recalls how guilty he’d felt after Emily walked in, how his mind raced and spun out all night as he tried to come up with some way to make it all up to her. Despite getting the gift, he had ultimately decided that it would be foolish to give her such a thing. At the time, things had felt rather cold between them. As he looks at it now, he knows that now is not the time either, and additionally, what did he really know about what Tillie would want as a gift? It slowly dawns on him how little they truly know about each other. Emmett swells with excitement to know that they will be spending this time together every week. For the first time in a long time, this unspoken thing growing between them is bursting with possibilities. He smiles at her. “Oh. Yeah. It’s a little chaotic. Here-“ he closes his book bag for now, watching the gift fade back into the darkness. “Maybe some day” he thinks.

Emmett feels emboldened by a sense of hope for what he could build with her. His nerves shrink back and then disappear altogether. He lays his head in Tillie’s lap, sprawling out long in the grass. He holds the notebook up so that she can see the pages. As he thumbs through the density of his notes, he realizes just how much of a mess everything is. “Uh-“ Shit. In an effort to pivot, he sits up and begins pulling everything out of his bookbag. “So, mostly I’ve been researching about everything that’s been happening up here.” He taps his temple. “Like with my - well, whatever is going on with me, I guess.” He laughs quietly, has to humor himself a bit. “Does anything catch your eye in this pile of books? Do you have any questions? Sorry I - I guess I spent more time this morning thinking about you than I did getting ready.”

Tillie opens her eyes to a streak of pale orange sunrise painted on the bedroom wall. Outside she can hear the melodic chirping of a Parula, but inside are the soft hums of Emmett's steady snores. She is pleasantly surprised when she turns over to see him sleeping soundly next to her. Last night had felt more like a dream than anything, something that she would have to wake up from and mourn. But it was real - it all happened. He forgave her, he kissed her, he liked her. She watches him for a while, notes the faint flush of his cheeks, the length of his dark eyelashes, and the particular curve of his full lips as they part slightly open and then closed again. The sight of it twists her putty-like heart into a new shape. She peppers a few soft kisses on his cheek and his nose, and giggles quietly when he twitches a bit. Then, when she feels she is done taking in the moment, she gets out of bed, maneuvering carefully as to not wake the boy. She fumbles on the hardwood for a second, feeling her way around to find her articles of clothing she had previously tossed on the floor. But as she reaches down to grab her skirt she catches sight of the stack of photos Emmett had haphazardly tossed under his bed. Last night she had been so afraid of them, so disturbed. Today, they have some odd tempting quality, some captivating pull. Today they almost ... glow? Her hand slowly reaches underneath the wooden bed frame into the darkness and she plucks the first one she can reach from the pile. A group of six or so naked women surround a roaring bonfire. They dance and smile wildly at it, but one stares directly at the camera. Tillie shudders, but to her surprise the ghost of a smile floats across her features too. Catching herself, she sets the image down quickly and continues to gather the rest of her things.

Now dressed in her outfit from the previous evening and Emmett's folded t-shirt in tow, she turns to look at him one more time before she has to leave. A heavy sentiment settles in her chest, something that feels mostly like longing. She has to look away to stop its rapid bloom. Her eyes land on his desk, and idea presents itself to her. She acts quickly, shuffling over and gathering a scrap of paper and pen. She scribbles a note and places it on the pillow she had used that night: “12 and 30. 20 past the S.L.U.G, 50 east, 100 west, stop at the Grandmother Tree. Bring your findings. xx CMB ”

With that, and before the sun rose any higher on the horizon, she leaves. Tillie rushes to the other end of campus to St. Joan's and thankfully slips in without being noticed. Eve isn't around when she arrives to their room and she is thankful for that as well. The stuffed dog on her bed, however, is a welcomed sight and she embraces him with a smile.

She lays down but falling back asleep feels impossible now. She is wired from the memories of the night that flood back to her. She catches herself mid laugh, recalling a cute moment she had shared with Emmett, and chides herself for it. A groan tumbles from her throat as she tries to find another way to pass the time. She reaches over to her desk and finds her copy of Baldwin’s “The Fire Next Time”. But she only gets a few paragraphs in before mind is sailing off again, drifting to new memories of the boy. She goes on like this for a few hours, enveloping herself in her vivid daydreams like a warm blanket . She recalls his touching, the way he had caressed her cheek, her back, her thigh. A blush creeps its way onto her face. She hardly notices.

At some point she had dozed off, but the midday sun wakes her up just in time. She jumps up with a smile, getting ready quickly and making her way out again. The autumn air has a bite, but she welcomes it. The chill against her face helps her to focus on the task at hand. Tillie makes the familiar trek to the student garden, following a small hidden path that leads to a green space just behind it. Following it further for a little while, then taking a sharp turn at another trail and counting a hundred steps, she moves briskly through the wooded area beyond the campus grounds into a small clearing. It is here where she finally slows down and knows she is in the right place. There in the center stands a solitary, towering live oak tree draped with feathery spanish moss. Its' branches were impossibly long and thick, and seemed to reach out directly to the girl. The locals say that the tree was more than 300 years old. She isn’t sure if that is true, but it had always felt right. She approaches it cautiously, like she needed permission to be near it. Satisfied, she settles on a spot on the grass just in front of its trunk and waits for Emmett. She hoped that the note wasn’t too cryptic, and is worried he might not have figured it out, but to her delight he is right on time. She smiles brightly at him, though still wading through a bit of shyness. "I saved you a seat," she tells him patting the spot next to her. "Thanks for coming. I - um - I figured we should get a jump start on all of this."

Abruptly, he’s awake. Blinking slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Emmett is relieved to see Tillie asleep peacefully next to him, both of them on their sides, facing each other. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he sinks back into his dream - wildflowers in their hair, grass sticking to their clothes, hands all over each other. When he wakes again, the lighting has changed from dark blue to pale, soft, early morning purple. He knew that this meant the sun would be rising soon. Tillie’s back was pressed up against him, his arm slung over her waist. Emmett gently presses a kiss into her shoulder blade. The reassurance of her presence washes over him and sleep takes over once again. The next time Emmett opens his eyes, warm yellow sunshine is spilling in through the window. Birds are chirping back and forth. Emmett reaches out for Tillie as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, but his hand only finds the coolness of the sheets. Her side of the bed is empty.

Emmett shoots up - sobered by this realization. His blood runs cold. His eyes dart around the room, only to find that it completely empty. Emmett leans over the end of the bed to find that her clothes are, in fact, gone. For a moment he sits cross-legged in bed, back against the cold wall. He lets his head fall back too, lightly and repetitively thumping it  into the wood behind him. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Emmett mumbles quietly to himself. A dark cloud of brooding threatens to roll in over him. His mind endlessly tangles itself into a ball, dwelling and ruminating. Did she feel differently come morning? Was she regretting her decision to stay the night with him? He glances around for his t-shirt, desperate to put it on and just go back to sleep enveloped in her scent, but Emmett does not see it. Instantaneously, he knows she’s kept it. A glowing blossom of hope opens up inside of him. Emmett swings his legs over the edge of the bed and his feet land on top of something that crinkles. His gaze floats down - one of the images he’d stashed beneath the bed last night is staring back up at him. His eyes meet the woman’s in the photograph and he is overcome with the knowledge that Tillie is somewhere waiting for him, like an itch he cannot scratch.

From the corner of his eye, a rustle of white. Emmett turns his head to catch sight of a note on his desk - it rustles slightly in the breeze, a paperweight holding the top corner down. His heart skips a beat, breath stuck in his throat. Emmett scrambles over to grab it, thankful that he is alone and that no one else could witness the frantic gesture. His eyes greedily eat up the words in front of him - Tillie's handwriting is graceful and languid. He rereads the message over and over in confusion until things start to click. "Grandmother tree...." he whispers to himself, excitement rising in his chest. Emmett wastes the next few hours reading and annotating his copy of Franz Kafka's diaries.

"January 20. The end of writing. When will it take me up again?"

"January 29. Again, tried to write. Virtually useless."

His eyes keep anxious watch over the clock, barely comprehending anything he's been reading. When it's finally time, Emmett springs up and fills a bag with a journal, loose papers, books and things to write with. As Emmett weaves around campus, his heart yearns in anticipation to see her face. As he follows the winding path through the garden, he cannot help but to think of the two of them sitting on that stone bench. His head throbbing with a wound. His heart heavy with words unspoken.

He breaks through the treeline into the shady clearing. The Grandmother Tree towers above him, it's leaves beginning to change into a myriad of colors. Emmett stops in his tracks a moment as he registers that Tillie is there. Already waiting for him. She hasn't seen him quite yet and Emmett takes a small moment to admire her from afar. In a way, he is terrified to approach her. What would things be like after last night? Emmett forces himself to breathe in and out deeply a few times before he finally begins to walk over to her. Their eyes meet and he nearly melts at the softness he beholds in her gaze. He plops down in the spot she gestures to, shedding his bookbag and tossing it to the side. He nudges her shoulder with his own, smirking - feeling a bit coy suddenly. "I'm just glad I ended up in the right spot, y'know. You're lucky I'm persistent and smart. Who knew you were so good at writing cryptic clues?" He chuckles to himself quietly, rather shy around her in this moment, his cheeks flushing. "I'm glad you wanted to see me again." his voice is small. A bit self-conscious, but sweet. "Let's get into it then, shall we?" Emmett shuffles around in his bookbag for notes, yanking out his stuffed journal. "I thought maybe you'd like to look at these."

Tillie is confused and mildly frustrated by their sudden separation, but very quickly all is made clear. She lets out a breathy chuckle as she watches him and is thankful that she could laugh about it at all. However disturbing those pictures had been to her earlier, she hadn’t even noticed them now. The world around them had all but disappeared. All that she can focus on was the boy beside her, how tender they are, and how calm he makes her feel. Regardless, she is thankful for the absence of the images and his warmth that returns to her. He kisses her body like it is easy, like he has always done it, and this hits her in the heart with surprising force. Something about the small gesture brings a swell of heat in her chest and in an instant Tillie is a five alarm fire, wild and quietly burning for him. With no other way to release all that has built up inside of her, she makes haste planting a firm kiss on his lips while his eyes are closed. For now it is enough to quell the thing inside of her she fears she might lose control of. When she pulls away, she is sure to hold his gaze for a few moments. She is sure to show him that she wants him - this, whatever "this" was. And when she feels she has gotten through to him, she lays back down.

She almost smiles at his admission - For all of their discord and friction, he dreamt of her still. But as he continues her mouth settles solidly into a frown. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Even in dreams she was the cause of his grief. “What do you mean? What things?” She asks and instantly regrets it. Tillie doesn’t know if she can handle more of this tonight. She isn’t even entirely sure if she wants to know what he feels is following him. Before he can answer, she starts again. “Actually, maybe we save that for tomorrow. I'm sorry. I don’t know if I can keep my eyes open long enough to hear about it right now.” Not entirely the truth, not entirely a lie, but more of a distraction so that he will not notice the chill of fear that has pierced her bones and the shiver that has followed. She pulls him in closer to her yet, determined to protect him even though she is unsure if she knows what that would entail. She holds herself there and prays that he could protect her too. Something was lurking in the shadows, waiting for them to put their guards down, she can feel it. Maybe not tonight and maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough. Outside meant danger, it meant whatever was seeping out from his dreams would catch up to them. But here in Emmett’s bed they could be okay. Tonight they had each other and that could be enough. “And anyway I won't let you die, Emmett. Don't worry. It won't get you tonight. Promise." She yawns again and the corners of her mouth remain lifted in a drowsy smile. She settles on his chest, head just above his heart, the steady rhythm of it keeping time of some hypnotic lullaby. Her eyelids flutter closed one last time. "Minogaamik," she whispers to him, "Mino bawaajigan." Goodnight and Good dream. They are some of the only words she can recall of her native tongue, and she has only ever uttered them to her family, but tonight she makes an exception. Tillie isn't sure if he even heard her or if it sounded like complete nonsense to him, but sleep has gripped her now and she doesn't have the energy to explain herself. She thinks she hears him say her name, but her consciousness floats away, and she is gone completely in just a few seconds. Tonight she will dream of Ruby, and it will be the best rest she has gotten in many months.

A silence opens up between them - stretches on. Before Emmett can open his eyes again to see if Tillie has fallen asleep, her lips are crashing into his. The kiss is insistent and sure of itself. Emmett kisses her back with the same fervor, letting his hand drift from the small of her back, to her hips, her thighs - his fingertips lightly travel back up again. He bites her bottom lip gently as Tillie pulls back. His entire body is humming, desire pooling below his abdomen - the intensity in her eyes tells him that he is not alone. "I want you too." he murmurs sleepily, smiling to himself. Somehow, it's all he can say. All he can think.

Emmett opens his mouth, unsure of where to begin. "Well, I -" Tillie cuts him off rather abruptly and he finds himself incredibly grateful for the sudden interruption. He lets out a sigh of relief. "Mm. Sleep, yeah. I need to....we need to.." Emmett starts to fade, but jerks himself awake once more to reach his arm out and turn off the lamp. Tillie pulls him in a bit closer, resting her head on his chest, but his eyes fly open as she says - "It won't get you tonight. Promise." He smiles to himself at her protective, sweet words. He places one final kiss to the top of her head. She mumbles something to him that he doesn't quite understand - another language, he registers. The face of a woman jumps into his mind. She vaguely looks like Tillie. The image fades quickly, but Emmett's chest blooms with warmth and comfort. "Sweet dreams." he whispers back to her, but he knows she's already asleep. Emmett lies awake for a few minutes longer, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Tillie's breathing. He lazily pets her hair until his eyelids droop close for the last time. For the first night in many months, Emmett does not have a nightmare.

As their frenzy ends and her nosebleed ceases completely, Tillie can breathe a bit easier now. She feels like a house cat - tolerating the petting and fawning but knows her instinct tells her at any moment she should snap. She doesn’t, though. As much as she would hate to admit it, it feels nice. She is also slowly coming to terms with the fact that Emmett seems to have a talent for bringing her peace. She almost submits to the nagging feeling of being a burden, but he says that it isn’t too much, and she chooses in that moment to trust that he means it. Her hand lifts to meet his and she holds it there, not yet wanting to feel the end of his touch on her cheek. She is comforted in their silent understanding.

A warm pool of desire flows to the base of her stomach as they look at each other expectantly. The only other time she has ever felt anything similar was the brief moment they shared on her bed that she couldn't forget even if she tried to. Her eyes drop to her lap as she anxiously averts his gaze. “It’s great. I’ll um - Well just turn away for a second.” She waits for him to oblige before changing out of her shirt and into his. Then, bashfully, and as quickly as she possibly can, she sheds the rest of her clothing, careful to leave her pink floral skivvies which she now silently regrets choosing that morning. She submerges herself in his sheets, both ego and peace of mind protected by a layer of warm blanket. She takes a moment while he is still turned away to compose herself. Tillie is giddy, obnoxiously so, and wrestles the deep grin off of her face with surprising difficulty. For a moment or two she pretends that this was her normal, that she and Emmett are really together and this was just another night for the two of them. For just a second she allows herself to imagine what it might feel like to be completely his. But the moment passes and she knows she must come down from her cloud. “I think I’m going to need about three days to recover from all of this excitement.” She tells him gently, ending her fantasy and beckoning him to her once more.

Lying down and resting her head on his pillow, she can finally relax. For the first time all evening she releases the tension that had relentlessly seized her muscles and she feels herself melt into the small mattress. Now she knows that the exhaustion that had earlier succeeded to adrenaline has caught up to her. It floods and pulses through her body in deep waves. “You know, this is the first night in years that i'm not sleeping with Lenny. I kind of miss him, but I think you will do the job," She muses with a yawn and soft smile. Her eyelids flutter closed as she thinks about the tattered dog she has hidden in her nightstand, and how embarrassed she has been to have kept it for so long, and how she doesn’t feel that embarrassment talking to Emmett about it now. She yawns again then inhales deeply and realizes she is surrounded and consumed by his scent - on the pillow, on the sheets, on his soft shirt. It is so particular and so lovely she becomes faintly dizzy with longing. "Hey, do you have those weird dreams every night?" Slightly embarrassed at the invasive nature of the question, she peeks one eye open and then turns to face him. "I just mean, do you think it'll happen tonight too? I had this stupid thought just now that - well, maybe me being here would protect you or something. Sorry I know that's silly." She chuckles a little, doing her best to fight sleep. A lazy finger draws languid circles on Emmett’s arm.

He realizes just then that he is still sitting on the edge of the bed shirtless. He never did grab another shirt for himself. Emmett folds his arms over his chest self-consciously, suddenly more aware of his half-nakedness than ever. Tillie's voice nearly causes him to jump - he releases the tight grip he'd had on his own forearm, half-moons indented into his skin from the bite of his nails. Suddenly, he is consumed with worry - her nosebleed, the way he'd been able to hear the radio static in his head, the walls plastered with occult imagery. Emmett risks a look back at Tillie over his shoulder and it all melts away as she gestures for him to come closer. The relief is so immediate he almost cries. He instantly gives into his desire, burying himself beneath the blankets as well. He wastes no time in reaching out to her. Emmett presses his face into her chest, pulling her to him as tightly as he can, both of them on their sides. One of his hands rests between her shoulder blades, the other on the small of her back. He gently nudges his knee in between her legs, sinking them deeper into an embrace. Emmett breathes in the sweetness of her scent until it's all he knows - until he can't feel the blood rushing to his ears anymore. "I'm sorry." he mumbles, lips pressed against her skin. "I just really needed this." he can feel the stress rolling off his back, muscles slowly relaxing one by one. Emmett pulls back ever so slightly after a few more moments, finally able to meet her eyes with a sense of peace. He takes her hand in his, playing with her fingers to distract himself from dissolving into a puddle. Emmett lets an unexpected chuckle roll out from his lips at the mention of replacing Lenny for the night. Emmett closes his eyes, placing his pointer fingers against his temples, as if communicating telepathically. "Lenny, rest well tonight my friend. I promise I won't let you down." He pretends to listen to a response and then peeks at eye open at Tillie, whispering - "He says you're in good hands." Emmett winks cheekily.

He yawns as Tillie yawns, realizing just how spent he is also feeling from the events of the evening. Still, the images on the wall keep stealing his attention and spiking his stress levels. He quickly sits up and pulls them down, collecting them into a loose, disheveled pile. Emmett stashes them underneath the bed. "Jesus, that's so much better." He lays back down, the two of them facing each other. Tillie's fingertips trace long lines and circles on his skin as Emmett sinks deeper into a feeling of surrender. He tenses ever so slightly thinking about the dreams she mentions. Emmett hesitantly nods. "Y-yeah...yeah. Mostly every night." his tone is a bit solemn, their constancy weighing a bit on him now. He doesn't know if he has the heart to delve into the subject matter in front of her. His expression of distress softens at Tillie's musings. He places a small kiss to each of her fingers, pulling her hand in to rest on top of his heart. "My good luck charm." He lets his eyes drift shut momentarily, stupid grin on his face. Emmett blinks them back open slowly. "If that's the case, you're going to have a hard time getting out of this bed." he says jokingly. "I dream about you a lot, you know. I'm always searching for you. I'm always running and screaming and dying and -" he shakes his head, sighing quietly. "I can never seem to outrun what's on my heels." His gut curdles. "It always gets me at the last minute - no matter how much my lungs burn from running. Sometimes I dream about things and they....well, like moments later they happen. I -" he swallows hard, all of the moisture in his mouth disappearing. "It's started to bleed into my waking life."

Her hand lingers where he has placed it, palm resting softly on the warm skin of his cheek. It surprises her how easily she can fall into all of this touching - the indulgence of closeness and intimacy. Something inside of her has longed for it and was satiated every time they connected. But, dubious from his admission, her hand drops back to her side. Who would not be taken by him? Who could not be charmed? In all of the years they had been at Le Troadec, and in the brief moments she had observed him from afar, she watched the ways it felt like he had everyone wrapped around his finger. She always assumed that it must come very easy to him and that he had grown accustomed to all of the fawning - That he liked it. Before, it had vexed her. Now, she understands. He wasn't trying to be anything more than himself, she knows that now. The magnetism she and everyone else sensed was a part of him, as real as his smile. Her head understood this, but nonetheless, she catches herself still trying to glean the earnestness from his charisma. Without it, she can't stop the nagging feeling that his words, although lovely, were empty and untrue. “I seriously doubt that.” Her eyes stay locked on his as she gives him a playful shove away from her. Shyness is the least of her concern. She is doing tremendous work in her head to fight the thoughts that he enjoyed embarrassing her, or that he reveled in her discomfort. There was, she was slowly figuring out, a childlike part of her that never forgot what it felt like to be picked on, and was always waiting to react to any semblance of that particular sting. She doesn't know why there must always be a battle in her body or why she could not just take Emmett at his word. He had said a sweet thing, so why couldn't she leave it at that? She tries, and swallows the pathetic need to ask him what made her so special. "I'm not shy and i'm not cute. I'm a respectable, even-tempered, normal person." She says, feigning seriousness, but cracking almost instantly under his teasing gaze. "You're the - the cute one." A few muscles in his face color it faintly with a tint of surprise. She smirks. "You think I don't love watching you try to woo me? Yeah. That's cute."

Perhaps on another day, one where she didn't feel so stubborn, she could feel what he feels. She envies how easily it seems to come to him, the pushing desire to discover as much as possible about the unknown, to dive headfirst and damn the rest. But this wasn’t an ordinary quest for knowledge. She can sense the danger it carries the way you can smell rain before a storm. She blinks at him, unsure of whether she should continue to fight or finally resign. As much as she would like to believe in their benevolence, she just doesn't know how much good she can trust everyone wants to do. But she doesn't quite understand why she feels that way. They had done nothing to show her that they could be capable of anything malicious, but when she tries to imagine any of them delving into this the way Emmett wants to, a dark feeling looms in her mind. There is also a deeper fear she isn't ready to admit. That, perhaps, she would not be able to trust herself with all of this. But Emmett's example conjures up different thoughts. She tries to remember something her mother had told her once about her grandfather. She had called him a healer, but Tillie never knew what capacity she spoke of and now it was too late to ask. But then, if maybe someone in her family had done it - could she? She sighs. “Please just promise me a bit of caution.” Tillie whispers, painfully earnest. She can see the glint of something squally within him, something turbulent and wild, but only in certain moments, if the light caught his face just so. Fear rumbles at the base of her stomach for the potentiality of his investment in that energy. When he continues, though, the rumbling eases slightly. She nods her head slowly a few times, a sense of calm resituating itself back in her veins. "You and me" - Like they were already a team, like the essence of them had already become fused into some amorphous being. Emmett-and-Tillie. She smiles at this, and it only widens at the rest of his proposition. "Ah. So definitely... like, not a date or anything..."

Time shifts into something unfamiliar in the moments that follow the blood. One moment she is looking at him with wide, frightened eyes and in the next, her body follows his lead, sitting where prompted and reclining where led. What the hell was going on with her? Never before had she felt such a complete lack of control over her life - her body. For Emmett to see her this way was grotesque. She wants to wave him away, to tell him not to bother, to run away and clean herself up, but he is so gentle. The way he is looking at her and tending to her makes something come further unwound inside of her chest. Perhaps a wave of adoration or a flutter of panic, she cannot tell. She knows that she can't handle more of his concern, his tenderness or his worry. She doesn't know what to do with it. Something about how he comforts her, brushing her hair away from her face, holding her like she is something fragile, and apologizing for something out of his control makes her lightheaded and she is inwardly glad for her head resting on his soft pillow. “Hey,” she tries to interject. She hates that she is the cause of his alarm and doesn’t know how to help him feel better. On another night she could laugh about it, but the last of her sense of humor has seeped out onto the sleeve of his shirt. "Emmett, Emmett, I'm fine. Really. I'm okay. See?" She offers a small smile, but ends up wincing through it. Dammit. "It's not your fault. I promise."

She does laugh a little, despite how mortified she is and takes the glass from his hand. The water is a cool relief, but she almost chokes on it as he strips off his shirt. He had done it so quickly, so casually, she doesn’t have time to process how crazed she feels. Tillie eyes him intently. “Well, i'm not complaining,” she says plainly. There was no use being coy about it. The situation they'd found themselves in was much too ridiculous to be shy about something like this now. And she really did enjoy looking, even though she was trying her hardest to resist making it too obvious that she keeps sneaking glances at the warm light carving out the hilly contours of the muscles on his arms and his chest. She tries to look away before he notices, though is certain she's likely already been found out. "But thank you. I am sorry about your shirt, though. I can get you a new one, if you like." The recent memory flashes back to her mind of him racing to her and offering up his arm without hesitation. No one had ever risked anything to protect her like that before. She shakes the thought away, afraid of lingering on the sentiment too long and summoning tears. “Thank you.” She says again soberly.

The nosebleeds hadn’t concerned her much until now. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a nosebleed before all of this, but her strongest guess would be some distant instance in her childhood. She had always been exceptionally healthy, never suffering from any unexpected malady and she had attributed it to fastidiously managing her wellness. But in the deeper reaches of her mind is the truth that she had never wanted to be burdensome. Even now she is fighting herself to be cared for and cared about. "Yes. No. I mean, I don’t know. Only recently. But I'm sure the air is just drying out as winter rears its head." He isn’t convinced, so she shrugs to further prove her nonchalance. "I'm fine. This is just really embarrassing.” She says the last part with a bit more conviction and it isn’t a lie. The first time she was in his bed and she is a frazzled mess, covered in her own blood. She couldn’t quite think of anything worse. “Maybe I should take my shirt off too and make things less awkward.” She says, putting the glass down on his nightstand. She hadn’t meant it as a joke, but the air of surprise and the bit of silence that hung between them brought instant regret. Her cheeks flush deep red and the heat of them pull her back down to Earth. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” She says bashfully, blurting out anything before he has the chance to. "But I - I did get blood on mine and - well, if you don't mind maybe I could borrow one of yours for the night." She hadn’t fully considered what spending the night might look like until now. What was appropriate and what was too much, she couldn’t say. But the thought of laying on his bare chest and sleeping soundly in one of his worn in pajama shirts makes her heart pound in her ears. Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

"Alright, well, you caught me." Emmett attempts to put a smile on his face, but only one corner of his mouth will hold it, his ears still ringing. He can feel a heaviness rolling in like a storm cloud over his body. "Everyone thinks I'm charming because I want them to think that. So, yes, naturally I hear that a lot." He shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant, but his eyes still drop to his feet. He hesitates, momentarily regretting the bluntness of that statement. "Not that I'm - I don't know." he huffs, a bit impatient with himself to find the right words. "I like that you think I'm charming, don't get me wrong. I suppose I am. I guess I sort of want that to be the first thing on everyone's minds when they think of me and not - well, not....other things." Emmett can hear the melancholy in his tone and he detests it. He knows he's being vague, but he is slowly beginning to feel like an open wound the more he picks at the sutures. Emmett is quietly thankful for the playful mood shift from Tillie and he lets it sway him from the depressive lull nipping at his heels. He know she's teasing him, but he still blushes when she calls him cute. "So you think I'm cute, is what I'm hearing and I should keep it up." Emmett smiles and it feels genuine this time.

Emmett can hear the anxiety in her voice and he immediately feels himself nodding before he can think, desperate to alleviate these feelings of worry from her mind. "Yes. Of course." He finds himself feeling grateful for their conversation and the way it has dampened his feverish momentum. Lost in his own echo chamber for weeks, it had been difficult to put the brakes on his endless searching. Witnessing this hesitancy from Tillie reminds him that perhaps he's forgotten to let himself feel that way - too steeped in the research to be doubtful. Deep down, he knows that she is right to be treading so carefully. Emmett's ears perk up at the word "date". It rushes through him like a welcome breeze on a hot day. His stomach flips nervously at the idea that she would even want to go on a date with him. Emmett thinks back to the first time he'd ever considered asking her on a date, quickly deciding against it however, given their intense and rather unforgiving dynamic at the time. Against all odds, another chance has come his way. "Sort of like a study date." he smirks to himself. "But I'd love to take you on an actual date sometime....y'know, outside of our studies."

His heart aches watching her venture to convince him that she's okay. She doesn't want him to worry, he senses that. It's obvious enough. Pangs of sadness poke and prod at him as he ponders this even further. Did she feel like an inconvenience for needing comfort? Care? Emmett fusses over her regardless, catching the momentary wince that contorts her face. "Fuck the shirt. Don't even worry about the shirt. I'm just glad you're alright." Relief floods his body watching Tillie drink water. He pets her hair slowly. The bleeding has slowed now and he could feel his heart-rate slow with it. The quiet way her voice cracks as she says "thank you", the tears blooming in her eyes - Emmett draws his brows together, perplexed. Still, he reaches out to gently stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "It's okay." His voice is low and soothing. He can feel it welling up inside of her. The shame she feels. "It's not too much. I just want to make sure you're alright."

Tillie's eyes keep flitting to his arms and his chest, which Emmett has forgotten are now bare. Confusion gives way to understanding - he smiles to himself, unable to contain how good he feels underneath her gaze. In spite of the seriousness of the moment, he cannot fight the fact that he longs to be desired by her, in that way. Luckily, Emmett is re-grounded in reality by Tillie's explanation before his mind has long enough to escape him. Emmett shoots her a look of disbelief and internally, something tugs at him, but he doesn't push the topic any further. Emmett's mind flashes with images that he cannot make sense of in the moment. He stashes them away for later. "Hm. Well, let's keep an eye on them, especially if they become more persistent." He can play along for now.

Emmett blinks a few times slowly. He is certain he could not have heard that right, but she stares at him with a shy flirtatious glint in her eyes. As the initial shock wears off, his gaze begins to reflect it too. There is a moment of silent yearning between them before he nods his head. "I don't mind at all." Emmett digs through his dresser drawers until he finds a faded, soft black t-shirt with white lettering that is faded from many years of wear. He sits back down on the bed, handing it to her. "Will this be okay?" Despite the stressful chain of events preceding this moment, he can only think about Tillie in his bed now. Tillie sleeping in his shirt. Tillie curled up on his chest, sleeping soundly. His brain turns to foam as she begins to take her shirt off.

She loves the way her name sounds on his lips - Like it was something new that he had made up for her on the spot. Like she had never been called that in her life. Like it was something special. Tillie rolls her eyes and wrestles a smile off of her face at his words. “Sure, I guess I don’t kiss my friends.” Her heart skips as he plants a kiss on her hand - the same way he had on the night of their first kiss. She reflects on how far they have come since then. How she felt the urge to hide in the security of the darkness, afraid of what he would think of her or what she thought of herself. Now she wants him to see all of the parts of her she had spent so long working to conceal. Now she wants him to know her, to tell him everything. She looks at him for a few moments, smiling but not speaking. If asked, she would say that in this moment she felt content, but really she feels astonishingly lucky. She hums, a crooked grin splitting her face as she leans forward conspiratorially. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exceptionally charming?” She asks, and means it.

She almost laughs, but she is too anxious to fully commit. Her hands lift and fall back down in her lap dramatically. “Then maybe I drop out of French class!” She doesn’t mean that. She knows that Emmett knows she doesn’t mean it either. But the idea had come to mind before, just a flicker of an plan. If she wasn’t in the class anymore, she could ignore this forever. Out of sight and far out mind. The notion had flashed in her brain, but her resolve is much stronger than she anticipates. She supposes she has to see it through. Or at least find a few answers to her growing list of questions. Tillie sighs, exasperated. “We can read until the cows come home, Emmett. It’s just - What are you hoping to learn? How to bring things back from the dead? I want no part in that. Dead is dead.” This she knew all too well. If it was as easy as saying a few words and waving your hands around, she wouldn’t have wasted so much of her youth praying to a God she didn’t believe in to bring her mother back to her. But then, how could she deny what she had seen with her own eyes? “Or it used to be. I don’t know...” He gaze falls downward, cast to a scuffed spot on the hardwood floor. She is only brought back to herself by the feeling of his hand atop hers. Instantly comforted, but not completely convinced, she decides to trust that whatever there was to figure out, it would be better to do it with Emmett than alone or not at all. She nods and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. She’s happy that she can, because it was something people do, or because she can finally do it with Emmett whenever she wanted. A smirk lifts the corner of her mouth before a groan tumbles out. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll do this with you. But know that I’m only guided by the fear of everyone’s intentions with this stuff. And, well, a desire to know more than everyone else, if I’m being completely honest.”

She considers what he is telling her, but still finds it difficult to comprehend. Who had sent him a warning? And why on Earth would he be targeted in the first place? “But why you? And what would she want? Or why would she want to harm you?” She chews on the inside of her lip, ruminating. “This doesn’t make any sense."

She believes him, for some reason beyond her comprehension. With everything they had seen and experienced recently, a prophetic dream was honestly the most plausible occurrence. But the questions still bounce around in her head. What did she want with him? Or with Tillie, if she believed that it was the same person? "But if she - Then what - And why...What could possible connect us to be visited by the same entity?" Her hand flies to her temples, rubbing them with an incensed sense of urgency. She feels a small throbbing behind her skull, the bud of a headache. She couldn't handle much more of this conversation, but she pushes herself, hoping there is some semblance of an explanation at the end of it. However, the more she realizes how much was still cloaked in mystery, the more her frustration blooms. "This is too much, this can't be happening..." She groans loudly, hands lifting in the air. “And what if she comes back?! What the hell are we supposed to do?!” Suddenly, a strong wind barges into the room, shaking the papers on the wall and lifting the loose papers on the floor. It is arctic around them, raising goosebumps on her flesh and startling her so much that a shrill shriek forces its way out of her throat. Quick to act, Tillie rushes to the window and slams it closed. The papers float gently back down, settling in various spots around the room. She looks back at Emmett, wide-eyed and frantic. She opens her mouth to speak, but a small, pulsing throb just behind the bridge of her nose grabs her attention. She realizes then that it is the same she had felt on the night she heard the voice. “Oh-" she starts, hand lifting to her nose and thankfully catching the steady stream of blood that has just begun to flow from it. 

Emmett's lips linger against the skin of her hand a moment, a devious smirk taking shape on his lips as the two of them watch each other through the haze of their desire. He toys with the idea of biting the tip of her thumb, maybe pulling it into his mouth. He fondly remembers the way his body had thrummed with adrenaline as he'd built up the courage to kiss her for the first time and how that same excitement was surging through him now. He brings Tillie's hand up to his cheek instead, placing her open palm against it. Emmett holds it there gently, letting his eyes drift close a moment, a feeling of contentment rising within him. When he opens them again, it's for a dramatic, playful eye roll. "Charming? Please. I've been called many things, but charming has never been high on the list. You, though...." Emmett's tone is gentle and quiet. "You just bring it out of me. I love to charm you, I love watching you get shy." a small smile blossoms on his face. "And you're just too cute when you get shy. Can't help myself."

Tillie continues to wrestle with her thoughts - Emmett can see the internal struggle playing out on her face. He can't blame her for being so conflicted - it had been terrifying to feel as though all ties to reality were cut the moment that frog jolted back to life. Hell, maybe she was right. Maybe they shouldn't be going back to French class. Yet, Emmett cannot bring himself to turn his back on the curiosity that called out to him. He didn't quite understand what was steering him so powerfully towards this research, but there was something building inside of him that he was desperate to understand. "I don't know what I'm hoping to find, if I'm being honest, but I'm intrigued by what I've learned so far. Killing frogs isn't the only way to practice magic. I just want to know what's out there. Witches can be incredible healers as well, y'know. They can do an immense amount of good, should they so choose it." Tillie's kisses his cheek and the feeling of it immediately releases him from his anxiety - he lets out a breath he'd been holding in his chest for too long. Emmett is perked up by Tillie's next words, a sense of hope budding inside of him. "Oh, of course. There was never a doubt in my mind about that." he says jokingly, silently thankful for her offering of companionship on this undertaking. "You and me it is, then. We can meet somewhere off campus? Maybe once a week."

Emmett is brimming with concern for Charlotte as she begins to contort her face in pain, tensely rubbing at her temples. He opens his mouth to offer her any comfort that he can, but closes it again as he realizes that he has no idea what to say. Emmett is just as confused as she is and he struggles his way towards a response, a way to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. But, how could he possibly know that? Deep in his gut, he felt quite the opposite, really. Emmett reaches the conclusion that is pointless to say more while Tillie is clearly in the midst of a panic. He begins to take a step towards her, hoping to help her calm down. "Hey I- I think you should sit down. Let me get you some-" before Emmett can finish his sentence, an unusually strong wind gusts into the room. It nips at his skin, ruffling his hair and his clothes. Tillie rushes to close the window and Emmett is relieved when it's finally sealed shut, however he is unable to shake the fear that is now coursing through his veins. Was she with them? Even now? Before he has much time to think, Emmett freezes. He watches as a thick line of blood begins to drip down from Charlotte's nose.

"Fuck-" he whispers harshly, breaking himself out of his stupor. His heart begins thundering in his chest. Emmett instinctively pulls his shirt sleeve down around his hand and uses it catch the blood before it can drip down to her chin. "Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay. We're going to lay down for a second, okay? You're alright." his tone is soothing and rippling with worry at the same time. Emmett carefully sits Tillie down on the bed and guides her head down to the pillow. He puts pressure on the bridge of her nose, tilting her head back. Emmett brushes the curls away from her face with his other free hand. "I- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out like this, I would never have said - I mean if I would've known -" Emmett shakes his head, feeling rather stupid. "Are you feeling okay? Is your head hurting? I can get you some water." Emmett releases the hold he has on her nose to reach for his water glass. His gaze lands on the heavily blood-stained sleeve now resting on his arm and decides to take the shirt off, quickly tossing it aside. Emmett turns back to her with the water glass, relieved to see that the bleeding had slowed considerably. He laughs at himself a bit. "I don't know why I used my shirt. I do, in fact, have tissues." Emmett hands her a couple before laying down on his side, facing her. He props his head up in his hand. "Does this happen to you often? The nosebleeds?"

The truth was a clear and glittering thing, so she doesn’t understand why she is so resistant to its appeal. She had seen it too, after all. Had been haunted by it for days. But admitting its veracity out loud was something she cannot manage right now. "But, well - Isn't there a possibility that it wasn't real?" She asks, but even she is not convinced by her question. Her world view had been changed too, kicked in its middle and left hunched permanently to the side. Nothing felt right or true or real anymore. Nothing about this felt good. And anyway, she doesn't want to know what she was capable of. It can't possibly be any good, either. "I'm not excited about this, but I think it frightens me more to anticipate what everyone else may find.” Or, rather, what may find them. “That’s not to say it isn’t a worthy pursuit. I’d like to - figure things out together. Frankly I may be too... ” she handles the word in her mouth for a moment, tasting the bitterness of it on her tongue. “Frightened to do this alone.”

She blushes a little at the thought that Emmett would see her in his dreams, regardless of how haunting they were. But as he goes on about what he had seen, the color flushes from her face entirely. "That is..." She drawls, quickly finding the seat of his desk to lean on for support of her slightly buckling knees. "That must have been so scary for you.." She's whispering now and staring absently at a blank spot on the wall. Her mind conjures up the images of what he describes almost too easily - A corpse, a flame, an archer, a ghost, the woman. "What do you think it all…means?" She asks, still not meeting his gaze from his spot on the bed. Her mind is racing, calculating, considering every scenario and possibility. He is talking to her but she can hardly hear him. The pounding of her own blood in her ears is all she can make out. "Did she sound like-"

Then, one word snaps her attention back to him, a switch flipping on. For a moment all of the air is sucked out of the room. If she was scared before now she is petrified, frozen to the marrow with terror. Something feral dances behind her eyes - primal. The most basic urge to protect herself from harm by studying a threat. "H-How do you-" She starts, but all at once she forgets how to breathe. All alarms are blaring in her head. She takes a step away from him, away from the wall and the papers and the mess. “Emmett, that's-" An exhale. Her head begs her to leave, but something deeper begs her to tell him everything. "I mean, fuck. Yeah, okay, I - It was just before break. I needed some air or to be alone, so I went out on the lawn for some peace and I had my radio that Lenny got me. I was listening to music but it cut out and I thought... I thought it died, but then I heard that voice. A-And she said my name..." Tillie hears her again, swarming her eardrum as close and as real as though she was in the room with them now. She looks over her shoulder for good measure, but finds nothing. "I thought that she was my mother trying to reach me at first, but -" Tillie doesn’t finish that thought. The image of her mother summons tears so quickly she has to take a moment to will them away. Her hand waves away the statement in an attempt to move on. "Anyway, it freaked me out, so I cut the radio off, but it happened again so I just - I don't know, threw the fucking thing at a tree." She recounts this part as though it were normal or obvious. As if it were something anyone would do. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she looks at Emmett. The air feels colder than before, suddenly the middle of February on their November evening. She shivers and it only adds to her budding agitation. "But how did you know that? Are you playing some kind of joke on me?"

“O-Oh.” he stammers, finally shaking himself out of a state of shock after a few beats of silence. “Tillie….” Emmett lets the name drift past his lips softly, affectionately. “Oh your friends call you that, do they?” a bit of a playful smirk appearing on his lips. “Wow. Finally made it to the inner circle after all of this time.” he allows himself to laugh, but worries that such a thing might make her feel self-conscious. Clearing his throat, Emmett regains his composure. “Well, I suppose we meet all over again. It’s a pleasure, Tillie.” he raises her hand to his lips, kissing a spot just below her knuckles, just as he’d done that night in Dom’s office when she had first revealed her name to be Charlotte. His thoughts drift back to that dark room, the swift swipe of her thumb catching the whiskey from dripping down his chin. His body hums with electricity as the memory replays on a loop in his head.

Emmett can admit that his intense interest in the subject matter at hand was maybe a bit short-sighted, but to deny what they had seen? He can tell that Tillie is approaching this in a reasonably cautious way and that she is, in many ways, hesitant to walk into a smoke and mirrors situation. He sympathizes with that, but the memory is too vivid. The blood. The way the frogs body twitched around the tip of the dagger. Emmett sense that she is simply trying to offer herself some comfort in her denial, but he shakes his head, unable to affirm it. “I’m sorry to be so frank, but the sooner we accept the fact that it happened, the better. You and I both know he couldn't have possibly faked that. I have a feeling that we are going to witness stranger things than that if we keep going to french class.” Emmett bites the inside of his cheek, realizing that he is failing miserably at handling this with sensitivity instead of the brutality of logic. He takes a deep breath and places his hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to do it alone.” their eyes meet again and he implores her with his gaze not to shut down. “and it doesn’t have to happen overnight. Let’s take it slow. Little bits of reading here and there.” 

Emmett had not spoken aloud about his dreams to anyone. It felt discomforting in a way to have them out in the open, suddenly making them feel all the more daunting. He hadn’t quite begun to decipher and process what they may mean. Emmett’s head is spinning, his thoughts becoming an internal tornado. Emmett isn’t sure how to answer, but the words are conjured out of him anyways, unable to keep it to himself any longer. “The archer I -……I feel like they were trying to warn me of something. Of danger approaching. I guess I feel like all along it’s been a message to watch my back. I wasn’t understanding - I didn’t - Fuck.“ his head falls into his hands, groaning. ”I don’t know. I kept ignoring the message and the archer kept getting closer and closer. Until -“ he swallows hard, his throat feeling tight. “until she came.” Emmett’s voice is hardly above a whisper now. “That’s what it was……the danger. It’s her.” He shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. The lightbulb in his lamp flickers - his eyes dart to it. “The flame I - I don’t - somehow I drew her in. Guided her to me, I -“ Emmett risks a glance at Tillie only to see her watching him with concern. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“The radio…” Emmett shuns himself for letting that come out. He should have known it would freak her out. Emmett stares at her, wide-eyed. “I-“ he prepares to make an attempt at an explanation, but is silent the moment she begins to share her recollections of what happened. He clings onto every word she says, sitting on the edge of his bed now. He has to bite his lip against the laughter that creeps up as he imagines Tillie chucking the radio and how it must have busted open the moment it made contact with the tree. When she says the name “Lenny” he can see the tattered, loved stuffed animal clear as day in his mind, but he knew that wasn’t who she was referencing. Emmett’s body is overcome with a gut-wrenching grief when Tillie mentions that at first, she’d thought the voice was her mother’s. Emmett’s mind is filled with a million questions, but he loses them all when Tillie asks him how he’d known about the radio. Emmett anxiously considers brushing it off, but he is certain she’d heard his utterance. There was no hiding from it and he felt sick with the realization that he could no longer run. ‘I don’t know.” He blurts out, sounding hopeless and afraid. “I heard the static in my head and then I just knew. I promise I’m not fucking around. It’s not a joke. Trust me, I wish it was.”  tears well up, burning the corners of his eyes “I don’t know how I just knew, but I did. It’s like I’ve started hearing things, seeing things….I don’t know, like - like visions of some kind. God, I know I sound insane, but I know for a fact that the same woman from my dream was the one speaking to you that night." Emmett can almost see his own breath as he talks, the air around them now frigid.

A sense of dread looms over her head as she listens to him speak, but she follows along as best as she can. As he gestures to the pictures on the wall, for the first time all day she finally allows herself to really study them. They hold a certain Kracht - some inexplicable power draws her focus to them. Most disturbed and disgusted her. Others she could stomach better, but she couldn't handle thinking about anyone in the group using any of the objects or making an altar of any kind. She wants to turn away, but it isn't so easy. She doesn’t understand why her gaze lingers on the dagger for a few beats too long. “He gave me a book about hedge witches, but -“ She trails off, considering what she had read. "It's hard to believe that a few herbs and some wax could cause serious harm." She smiles when he sits next to her, but it falters a bit as she senses that he was losing a bit of steam and confidence. "No, no, this is really good, Emmett." She says letting just enough warmth into her voice to let him think she isn't entirely frightened.

Tillie places a soft hand on his cheek, some sense of safety as he went on about something so troubling to him. All of his words were coming out so quickly, she has a difficult time processing their meaning. “Woah, woah. Hey, rewind. What woman? What dreams? Wait -” She watches him closely, watches the anxiety knead his expression like clay. Even though she hadn't seen the woman he was talking about, she recognizes the look of fear on Emmett's face. Memories of the night on the lawn flood back to her in an instant, filling the room with a sinister energy that makes her physically ill. She shivers, instinctively moving nearer to him for some semblance of protection. Surely it couldn’t be the same woman she’d heard on the radio, but it couldn't be a coincidence either. She can hear the haunting voice now, whispering "Hello, Charlotte," in her ear. The memory plunges ice into her bones.

“I also - but I thought…” She thought she had completely lost her mind. She thought she had hallucinated everything that night. She never would have thought that anyone else had felt or seen something eerie too. "But how could that be?" She doesn't expect him to have an answer. That's not why she's saying it. It's more of a thought aloud, a verbal tether to keep herself grounded in logic instead of the gut-deep unease that's been curling in her chest since they started this conversation. “I think we experienced - fuck. Hold on.” Tillie jumps to her feet, pacing the spot in the middle of the room, chewing on the nail of her thumb. The same uneasiness she'd felt in her chest lurches her stomach, and there is nothing but the constant motion that is stopping her from throwing up. None of this made any sense, but then had she really come here in search of logic? She knew, or has understood that they were all looking for trouble. But then maybe trouble had found them instead. She nods at him slowly first, without saying anything, gearing up the courage to speak. “Emmett I need you to tell me everything. Seriously, everything.”

“Until yesterday it was also hard to believe that a man could kill a frog and bring it back to life.” Emmett utters softly, almost to himself. “I have no idea what could be possible with herbs after seeing something like that with my own eyes.” Charlotte’s presence next to him is Emmett’s only center of gravity and he clings to the sense of normalcy that it grants him for dear life. It dawns on him , though, that his tone is soaking with doom, likely not helping either of them feel any better. “Sorry I  - I just…..it’s just like - who knows what we could be capable of? Everything I thought I knew about the world is so different now.” Emmett is relieved to hear Charlotte say that she thinks the research is good - it could have just as easily been the case that she was horrified with him, so he's pleased with the latter. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Emmett offers her a warm smile, bumping his shoulder against hers. “It’s a good start, at least. Maybe you and I can expand on it together..” He can tell that Charlotte is still dubious and rightfully so, but he hopes to nudge her towards curiosity if he can manage it. “But only if you want to, of course.” 

The soft touch on his cheek helps to soothe the growing sense of paranoia budding in Emmett’s brain. He leans into it, craving the way her physical touch brings him tumbling back down to earth. Their eyes meet, searching each other’s faces feverishly and the hairs on Emmett’s arms stand straight up as Charlotte tries to get her words out. Her touch disappears as she springs up from the bed, something inside of her activated  and frenzied by his story. She paces in front of him and Emmett’s body is overcome with the knowledge that she, too, had been visited by this woman. Distantly, somewhere in his consciousness, Emmett can hear radio static. He wonders what that could mean. Emmett stammers, tripping all over his words as he spills the rest of the details. “I’ve been having inescapable bad dreams for weeks now. Sometimes they’re about us - like you’re lost somewhere and I can’t find you. For awhile, it was a reoccurring dream where I was being stalked and hunted by an archer, but one night I - well, fuck it - it wasn’t the archer standing there anymore it was this - this woman and she - she wasn’t a woman at all, but a corpse and she grabbed me with her cold hands and demanded that I take her to someone.” Emmett’s heart rate picks up - he swears he can feel the air around them becoming colder. He lowers his voice when he speaks again. “She called me her flame. Said she’d finally found me. I woke up screaming after that.” Emmett studies Charlotte, his eyes scanning from head to toe. There is a slight tremble in her hands. Her breathing is picking up, coming a bit more rapid. Her eyes are wide with disbelief. “Charlotte….what is it?” Emmett leans forward ever so slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He asks the question despite the heavy gut feeling sitting in his body like a rock. “She came to you too, somehow. Didn’t she? The radio….” His voice quiets with the last two words, hearing the static again. His gaze locks onto her, eyes crackling with intensity. “What happened?” 

Tillie can sense his contentment and she wants to match it but she cannot shake the sadness that triggers her need to atone. "I know. I'm really sorry it took so long." Concern and regret stitch her brows together. "I - um. Please, just -" The words are coming out of her before she can truly solve the puzzle of what she means to say to him. She only knows that she is terrified of hurting him, of losing his trust, of retreating into herself. It feels juvenile. She doesn't know what comes next for them or in general. She had never gotten this far. The disquiet she'd felt a few weeks ago is bubbling back to the surface. Her instinct is to pull away, and cloak herself in the fear like it might protect her from the shame. Now, though, she understands how she must endure it if she wanted this to work. She chooses to trust that he will understand her. A soft sigh leaves her lips then her voice dips lower, quieter. "Please be patient with me. I'm not really sure - I've never really - I'm still figuring out how to do this."

"I'd really like that too." She says, though her heartbeat flits at the thought of sharing a bed with him. She had dreamt of it so many times, fantasized about being in his arms while dozing off, smiles on both of their faces. She thought about their last encounter on her bed, his grip on her wrist guiding her hand to his neck. Ever since that night she has wanted to beg him to finish what they started - she almost begs now. A chill zips down her spine. She needed to get it together.

Tillie claps her hands together in mock delight at his proposition. Truthfully she was terrified of what he had discovered, not entirely sure if she was ready to see it. But she had come this far, and he had suffered so much alone. She figures it is probably best to keep things lighthearted, and tries her hardest not to make him feel self-conscious. "Insanity," she repeats, the words rolling off her tongue with something close to amusement, "Oh, I love this game. Hm- " Her smile falters slightly, gaze skimming the mounds of papers in his hands. There was so much he had found. Clearly Emmett had spent many hours delving into - well, whatever this was. "You know, tough call. Both look equally as insane as the other. Dealer's choice, really." And when he picks, she instantly feels lightheaded. "Can I?" She asks, pointing to the bed and not waiting for a response before she sits on the edge of it. She does her best to brace herself for what he says next, hiding her discomfort with an unsteady smile.

In the midst of cleaning up his mess of papers, Emmett takes a moment to flip his journal closed, stashing it away in the top drawer of his nightstand, on top of Summer's letter. A twinge of embarrassment nips at him at the idea that Charlotte could have accidentally noticed the many crossed out iterations of scribbles and ramblings pertaining to her. He almost laughs at himself and his melodramatic nature, but as his thoughts return to the matter at hand, the warmth that had enveloped him earlier was beginning to drain from his body. What fills him next is a slow-building sense of panic. Up until now, Emmett had not spoken to anyone about his research or his findings. He had been living in his head for the last few days and didn't quite know which thread to tug at first. Emmett takes a deep breath, recollecting his scattered brain. His gaze lands on his collection of pictures on the wall. "Okay. I know this all looks very.....well, gruesome. And it is, don't get me wrong, but like everything, witchcraft has a light side and a dark side. It's really up to the witch to decide what calls to them, I suppose." He points at an image of a small lamb with a dagger protruding from its body. "A cautionary tale to some. An undeniable power to others." A grimace twists his face at the idea of killing a small animal. "Personally, I can't say that any of this appeals to me, but it's a part of the picture, y'know?" His fingertip drags along the wall to another picture. "Altar tools - chalices, daggers, pentacles, wands... It seems that these are rather sacred items- integral to the devotion to the craft."

Emmett pivots - beings to dig through the stack of papers in his hands, eventually locating the notes he's looking for. "And there isn't only one way to be a witch either, I mean, the possibilities are endless." He scans through the mess of his own handwriting to find a small, bullet-pointed list. He reads a few of them the items aloud: "Green witches, kitchen witches, hedge witches....it goes on and on." Emmett takes a pause, sensing that Charlotte may be a little bit overwhelmed by the way she shifts in her seat. Emmett walks over to sit down next to her, "I guess I've just been trying to map it out the best I can. I know it's a bit of a mess." Emmett is itching to speak to her about his dreams. About the woman who had come to visit him. Though many nights had passed, he still shivered at the thought of her burnt, rotting flesh appearing before his eyes. The way he could almost smell it. He swallows hard, risking the possibility that Charlotte might not believe him, but the secret is burning a hole in his chest at this point. Emmett speaks quietly, as if the ghost of that woman was watching him even now. "And apparently, witches can have various different abilities. Some can manipulate time, some can heals wounds, some can have visions of the future or omens of danger in their dreams...." his voice trails off at the end of his sentence. Emmett hesitates to continue, feeling a cold sweat breaking out all over his body, but the confession involuntarily lurches from him anyways, like vomit. "I've been having a lot of strange dreams lately. Dreams that I can't quite explain, Charlotte. That woman-" his voice is almost a whisper now as he grips the edges of the papers in his hands. Emmett cannot bring himself to meet Charlotte's gaze, anxious to find that she may be looking at him in horror. "Ever since I dreamt about her, I can't shake the feeling that something....something in me drew her in. Something I'm not sure that I understand quite yet."