Soft Melodies

"I've found conservative families more dangerous personally. But then all people can be. I'm sure your family would hate me. A gay Hellenistic Wiccan isn't really what people like to see." he said with a grin. "Eat with us. Get to know us before you judge. And then we can find you a place you belong as yourself free of whatever judgements your family put on you."

Shiloh let out a small, surprised laugh. It wasn't because what he'd said was funny. It was because she'd never heard someone speak so casually about being everything she'd been taught to fear. "…They definitely wouldn't like you," she admitted quietly. "Or me." The last two words escaped before she could stop them. She froze. It wasn't something she usually admitted aloud to another person. Her gaze dropped to the plate in Sasha's hands. "Thank you." She accepted it carefully, as though someone might still appear and tell her she'd misunderstood, that there was a price she'd forgotten to pay. When he invited her to eat with them, her instinct was immediate. "I don't want to intrude." She looked at him for a minute, trying to read him. "…Do you really mean that?" Not the invitation. The rest of it. Her eyes lifted to meet his. "'As myself.'" The words sounded foreign on her tongue. "I don't…" She hesitated, her grip tightening slightly around the edge of the plate. "I don't really know who that is yet. I've spent so long trying to be whoever everyone else wanted…" She looked down with a small, uncertain smile. "I'm not sure there's much left to introduce."

She wrapped her arm around her mother laying her head on her shoulder. "You were enough. This home you made will always be enough. No one coulda made it better. Not more toys or gadgets or nothin. All I've needed is you." she said before curling up next to her. "Fine if you insist." she said taking a small bite of the pancakes.

Beck smiled, shaking her head with amusement. "Twice a year, huh?" she laughed. "Well... I suppose I can survive that arrangement. Though I reserve the right to grumble about it every single time." Her smile lingered, but it softened as Val continued. "You never have to thank me for choosin' you." The words came easily, without hesitation. "If I had to live this life a thousand times over... I'd choose you every single one of 'em." Beck reached up, tucking a strand of Val's hair behind her ear. "There wasn't a version of my life that would've made me happier than gettin' to watch you grow into exactly who you are." She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "You say I taught you how to be strong, kind, and brave..." Beck smiled, giving her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. "Truth is, you've taught me just as much. You gave me a reason to keep goin' on days when I wasn't sure how. You made every hard season worth weatherin'." When Val curled against her shoulder, Beck instinctively rested her cheek against the top of her daughter's head. They'd long since outgrown rocking chairs and bedtime stories, but somehow this felt exactly the same. "You'll always have a place right here," she murmured. "I don't care if you're twenty-two or fifty-two. You're my girl." She watched as Val took the first bite of the pancakes. "Well?" Beck asked, raising an eyebrow. "Should I be excited... or should I start lookin' for the cereal?" The teasing only lasted a heartbeat before she laughed, reached for her own fork, and took a bite. Her eyes widened. "...Valerie Moore," she declared dramatically, pointing the fork at her daughter. "These are better than mine." She gasped in mock offense before laughing again. "Don't you go gettin' too good at this. You'll put your old mama out of a job."

"I wasn't actually searching for one thing or another. I was just getting a lay of the land so to speak. So, I would love to walk with you and not get lost. You could tell me some things about the place to. Like where you like to hang out, if you live on campus, where you study..."

The realization settled quietly. I can't hear myself most of the time. That explained why Elio had been watching his face so intently from the moment they'd met. Why he naturally kept his gaze on Ezra's lips. Without really thinking about it, Ezra continued doing exactly what he already had been. He stayed facing Elio as they started down the sidewalk, speaking clearly without overdoing it. "I never would've guessed your English wasn't your first language," he admitted. "Honestly, it's impressive." At the mention of jet lag, he laughed. "I haven't traveled much, but I've heard it can be pretty rough." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts as they walked beneath the shade of the oaks. "And you're right." He nodded. "Some majors can practically earn a degree without ever stepping foot in certain buildings. Hospitality has me bouncing all over the place, though. Business classes, event management, marketing... I've gotten pretty familiar with most of it." He shook his head. "I don't live on campus during the summer. Home's only about twenty minutes from here, so I head back when classes end." His expression brightened. "Come fall, though, I'll be back in the dorms. I'm going to be an RA this year, which should be... interesting." There was just enough in his voice to suggest he was genuinely looking forward to it. "As for where I hang out...The student center's nice. Good coffee. Usually. The library's actually one of my favorite spots if I need to get work done. Not because it's exciting, but because it's one of the few places where everyone silently agrees to leave you alone." Then his smile returned. "And if I don't have homework I'm a movie nerd. So there's a decent chance I'm watching something, talking about something I've watched, or trying to convince someone else to watch it." He looked at Elio. "What about you?"

He saw her going again to retort and just smiled as he started making up his plate. "Some people do sure. Some people see a hurting kid and take advantage. My reason is I was that hurting kid and I want to do for others what I wish someone did for me." he said with a soft smile. "I'm not a picky eater. I'll probably eat half my girl's plate so if you want to fill yours up and figure out what you like I'll take what you don't and you can always come back for seconds." he said. He understood that on a spiritual level. "I'm gay. I've known since I was a kid what I was. I was always told it was ugly and wrong and pushed into a life I was not interested in and when I finally left it battered and bruised and with that angel over there I was cast out. This is what acceptance looks like and this is what you deserve no matter who you are."

Shiloh stood very still. She hadn't expected a real answer. Most people either looked away when someone admitted they'd been hurting or they asked questions they had no intention of listening to the answers to. Sasha simply... understood. Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment before dropping to the plate he'd begun making. "...You were? Sorry. You don't have to answer." Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack before she forced herself to let go. "I..." She swallowed. "I grew up in a conservative family. They said..." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "That people like you were dangerous." Her eyes flicked toward the rainbow flags dancing in the breeze. "That Pride was..." She stopped, unable to make herself repeat the rest. Instead, she looked back toward Sasha, towards his daughter sitting comfortably with her plate. Toward the easy smile he'd worn from the moment he'd spoken to her. "I don't think they told me the truth..."

"Yes, good afternoon, Mr. Chester..." She put on her nicest tone of voice. "Well, I fear that it is not the results you hoped. It is not authentic. On an art market, you might be able to get $100, but the chances are you are also looking at $30..." She sighed deeply. The man on the other line immediately began to yell and she couldn't help but roll her eyes as she calmly tried to bring his temper down. "I can try to sell it for you. I can try at auction with a starting bid of 100..." Then he stepped it up a notch and started with the profanity. She immediately pulled the phone away from her ear just in time to hear something about being a lying whore.

The moment the profanity reached his ears, something in Thierry's expression went utterly still. The easy warmth he'd carried since walking through the gallery door remained, but it settled beneath a composure that had been honed over decades of dealing with egos, fortunes, and people who believed money entitled them to disrespect. He didn't snatch the phone from her or interrupt. He simply waited until the man paused long enough to inhale. Only then did Thierry gently place two fingers over the microphone. "No," he said softly to Circe, his eyes never leaving hers. "You do not have to listen to that." His hand slipped around hers, carefully lowering the phone just enough that he could speak into it himself. "Mr. Chester." His voice was impeccably polite. "My name is Thierry Devereaux. My wife has given you a professional appraisal based upon her expertise. You are, of course, welcome to seek a second opinion. You are welcome to disagree. You are not welcome to abuse my wife. She has already offered a solution by attempting to sell the piece on your behalf despite the unfortunate valuation. If that offer no longer interests you, we wish you the very best elsewhere." There was another eruption from the other end. Thierry listened for perhaps three seconds. "...Yes. I see. Good afternoon, Mr. Chester." He ended the call himself with one deliberate press of his thumb. Thierry looked down at the phone for a moment before setting it gently on the counter before turning back to Circe. "I do believe," he said mildly, "he has declined your auction services." The dry observation lingered just long enough for the tension to crack. His hand found her cheek again. "You handled that beautifully."

She tapped her glass against his, glad that he seemed to agree that this was quite the new friendship. She took a small sip and looked up as the bartender appeared with their food. She thanked him before glancing toward Thierry. "Voilà!" She looked back to the tray. "Looks good..." Then he said he was invested and she cleared her throat, giving him a look. She was very curious if he meant for that to sound so inappropriate. His face gave little away. "Okay then..." She laughed a bit, reaching out to take one of the oysters. She then grabbed a little piece of the lemon, squeezing the juice over the top before bringing it to her lips and tilting her head back.

Thierry watched the look she gave him, and this time he made no effort whatsoever to hide the smile that spread across his face. "There it is," he murmured. "I was wondering how long it would take." He let the silence linger just enough to make it delicious before lifting his glass for another sip. "I'd love to tell you that was an unfortunate choice of words..." His eyes met hers over the rim of the glass. "...but I don't generally insult a beautiful woman's intelligence." His smile deepened. "You caught it." He nodded toward the oyster still in her hand. "Go on." His voice had dropped just enough to get lost beneath the music playing through the restaurant. He watched her tip her head back, his expression unreadable save for the unmistakable spark in his eyes. When she'd finished, he tilted his head slightly. "Well?" He rested an elbow on the bar, giving her a slow, appreciative look that lingered just long enough to be unmistakably flirtatious. "Though, if I'm being selfish..." he admitted, "I'm hoping dinner turns out to be the second-best decision you make tonight."

"Italia. I've been here a total of three days."

"Italia." Ezra repeated it with a smile, the word rolling off his tongue in a distinctly American accent. "Well... that wasn't my first guess." He laughed quietly, his eyes lingering on Elio for a heartbeat longer than they probably should have before remembering he was supposed to answer like a normal person. "Three days? That's a lot of change all at once." He shook his head. "I complain when they move the coffee machine in the student center." He teased with a small smile. "I can't imagine moving to another country." His gaze drifted back toward the maze of brick buildings surrounding them. "I'll let you in on a secret. Half the upperclassmen still get lost. We're just better at pretending we meant to be wherever we ended up." He laughed easily. "And your English's better than you're giving yourself credit for. If anything, you're making me feel lazy. The only Italian I know is what I picked up from movie nights growing up." A sheepish smile crossed his face. "So... mostly food." He was suddenly aware that he was still standing there chatting with a very attractive stranger he'd met all of five minutes ago. "I was actually heading toward the student center." He nodded down the path. "If that's where you're trying to get, or anywhere in that direction, I can walk with you."

"Hey no apologies needed. You don't apologize for existing." he told her without even thinking. He'd done that plenty when he was younger. Before he felt comfortable being himself and honestly until meeting Oz he still found himself apologizing for things he had no control over. "Doesn't it." he said as he started making his daughter's plate first. She'd been down here every year even when she was too young to conceptualize anything here. He wanted his daughter to love herself no matter what. "Hey not here. Maybe with some people but not at this picnic and not when I'm around." he said. He smiled and handed his daughter her plate. "Go take this and take a seat princess I'll be right there." he said kissing her forehead. "This is new this year. The owner opened a couple months ago." he said. "Vegatarian? Vegan? Meat eater." he asked as he started making a plate with variety for himself. "Well I'm glad I'm here to share in your first pride. I've been to 7 here. Sasha by the way."

Shiloh opened her mouth to answer before stopping again. You don't apologize for existing. The words settled somewhere deep inside her, awkward and unfamiliar, like someone had spoken a language she almost recognized but couldn't quite understand. She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for the joke. "…People usually have reasons," she murmured, almost to herself. Her attention drifted toward his daughter as she happily carried her plate away. The kiss on her forehead, the easy affection, the complete certainty that she belonged there… Shiloh watched for a heartbeat longer than she'd intended before realizing she was staring. She looked away quickly. "I'm…" She hesitated at his question. "I don't know. I know that's probably a strange answer." She glanced back at the trays of food. "I've just eaten whatever I could find for a while now. So… I guess meat eater? Mostly because I never really got to choose." When he introduced himself, she smiled. "I'm Shiloh. It's… nice to meet you, Sasha." Her gaze wandered across the park again. Families laughing together. Friends draped in flags. Couples holding hands without seeming afraid of who might see them. "I was always told…" she began, before the words caught in her throat. She shook her head. "Sorry." The apology slipped out before she could stop it. "…I just didn't think it'd look like this."

Bunny let out a snort of laughter. "No you're fucking with me. This cannot be the sweetest thing someone's ever said to you. It's just a fact." she said shaking her head. "No you deserve your own spread in a magazine. To be someone's model walking down a runway in an outfit that people can't decide if it's tacky or avant garde." she said grinning. Mira was someone she just barely recognized. She tried to be open with people. She was a social creature by nature. She grinned. "I try to be artistic. Hopefully it comes off that way." she said as she snapped a few pictures some were definitely more flattering than others but that was the fun in photography. "What a beautiful stranger strolling down the beach. How can that not be good enough. But seriously. Just cause I complement you doesn't mean you have to agree. If you hate it I can just as easily delete any pictures." she said wanting the girl to feel no pressure.

Mira couldn't help but shake her head with a laugh. "I promise I'm not," she said, lifting a hand as though swearing an oath. "People are usually much more interested in asking me if the lighthouse is haunted than telling me I belong in a magazine." She shook her head again, smiling as Bunny continued. She simply seemed to see beauty wherever she looked and spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're very kind," Mira said warmly. "Though I think you've got a wonderfully dramatic imagination." She stood patiently while Bunny snapped a few more pictures, relaxing after the first couple. Whatever awkwardness she'd felt melting away. When Bunny mentioned deleting them if she didn't like them, Mira's expression softened. "I don't think I'll hate them." She smiled. "Even if I make a ridiculous face in half of them." Her gaze drifted from the camera back to Bunny. "I think photographs say as much about the person behind the lens as they do the person in front of it." She tilted her head curiously. "Most people walk right past strangers without a second glance. You stopped because you thought someone you'd never met was worth remembering. I like that."

Sasha had just gotten Bianca all set up to do her first readings. While he loved to do them he also wanted her to have a shot and people at pride were normally a lot more open to it then any other time. Especially when the readings were free. But now he got to spend the picnic with his daughter and hopefully Ozzie would join sometime. His eyes caught hold of someone he'd never seen previously looking nervous. "Doesn't it look so good." he said trying not to come off too creepy. "Probably great advertising too for the restaurant. Providing free food to the pride picnic. Need help deciding and making a plate." he asked even being not much older than her the dad in him came out as he grabbed plates for himself and his daughter. "Or if you have some food sensitivities I have some peanut better and jelly sandwiches."

Shiloh startled slightly when the voice came from beside her. She hadn't even realized someone had been watching her stare at the food. Her first instinct was to apologize. "...Sorry." The word slipped out automatically before she even knew what she was apologizing for. Her gaze flickered from the trays of food to the man speaking, then to the little girl beside him. The sight gave her pause. She'd expected... she wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected. Certainly not families. Not children happily carrying plates while rainbow flags danced overhead like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "It does smell really good," she admitted after a moment, almost shyly. When he mentioned the restaurant providing the food, she looked back toward the tables as if that somehow explained it. Advertising made more sense than simple generosity. "I just..." Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack. "I've been places where 'free' meant somebody expected something afterward. So I wanted to make sure." At the offer to help, she blinked in surprise. "No... no allergies." A tiny smile tugged uncertainly at one corner of her mouth. "Thank you, though." Her eyes wandered over the different dishes, clearly overwhelmed. "I don't actually know what any of this is. I've never... been to something like this before."

"Senior, big man in town..." he teased, "Yes, first visit. First year. Fresh-meat..."

A smile tugged at Ezra's mouth as Elio pointed between the two buildings. "They kind of do look alike," he admitted. "I think the architect was having a laugh." When Elio asked what the humanities building was, Ezra's expression softened with understanding. "It's... sort of a catch-all." He spoke a little slower now, unconsciously making sure he was facing Elio while he talked. "History. Literature. Languages. Philosophy. A few other departments." He shrugged. "So unless you're looking to accidentally enroll in Ancient Greek at ten in the morning, you were right to keep walking." The handshake was firm but easy. "It's nice to meet you, Elio." At the "big man in town" comment, Ezra shook his head. "I promise that's giving me way too much credit. I'm just the guy who's been here a while." He shamelessly checked the other out. "'Fresh meat,' though..." He rubbed at the back of his neck as his eyes moved over him. "Where are you coming from? The accent's a bit of a giveaway that it isn't around here."

"Sorry. I promise I wasn't intentionally trying to get in your way."

Ezra had been dropping off paperwork for his resident assistant position before the fall semester, his messenger bag slung comfortably over one shoulder as he crossed the quad. In a few weeks, these walkways would be packed. For now, they were pleasantly quiet. Which was probably why he noticed the young man turning in slow circles with such determined concentration. And why he had just enough time to stop before they walked directly into one another. "Whoa," Ezra said with an easy laugh, taking a half-step back. "You're okay. I've definitely had closer calls." The accent caught his attention almost immediately, followed by the campus map sticking out of the other's back pocket. Ezra glanced toward the building Elio had been studying. "Let me guess," he said. "You think that's the library." A knowing grin spread across his face. "Everyone does. It's the humanities building. The actual library is..." He pointed across the lawn toward the larger brick building nestled behind a line of old oak trees. "...over there. So you weren't imagining things. There really is only one." His gaze returned to Elio. "I'm Ezra." He offered his hand. "I'll be a senior here in the fall. First campus visit?"

When Nora said 'hi' in the way she did, Colm sat up straighter. His heart dropping into his stomach. Was something wrong. "Hey..." he said in a soft voice, wishing in that moment he could read her mind. He gave her a moment, not interrupting as she sorted out here thoughts. When she asked him on a date, he blushed and he smiled softly. His tongue darted across his bottom lip and he gave a small nod. "You know you are right. We skipped the dating portion and went straight to doing life together..." He smiled, reaching out his hand toward her. "I would love to go on a date with you. Do you have something planned already? Or should we plan together?"

Nora hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until he said yes. She let out a quiet exhale, her shoulders sinking as though she'd been carrying something far heavier than a simple question. "That went significantly better than the version I'd rehearsed in my head." She stepped closer, slipping her hand into his when he offered it. The gesture felt surprisingly natural now. There had been a time when even reaching for him would've felt impossible. Now it felt... safe. "I think we did skip a few chapters," she admitted with a warm smile. "Most couples probably don't start with shared grocery lists and arguing over whose turn it is to fold laundry." Her thumb brushed absently across the back of his hand. "I did have an idea. And before I tell you, I need you to promise not to laugh." She narrowed her eyes at him in mock suspicion. "I wanted to take you somewhere neither of us has any responsibilities. I thought maybe dinner. Somewhere nice. Where neither of us knows anyone well enough for them to stop and talk to us every five minutes."

Which he did and she was secretly very happy about it. She hadn't come anticipating meeting a new friend, but she was very glad that this was what her day had turned into. As he took a seat on the bench, she shook her head. "Nope, I would never judge you." She placed her emergency hot sauce on the bench beside him. "Just in case you need a little extra kick..." She offered, scooping up a generously covered chip. "Cheers!" she offered, popping her own into her mouth.

Rhys glanced down at the little bottle of hot sauce she'd ceremoniously placed between them. At her cheerful little Cheers!, he couldn't help but mirror it, lifting his own overloaded chip. "Cheers." He finally took the bite. For a moment... he gave nothing. His expression stayed almost suspiciously neutral as he chewed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly like he was giving it genuine consideration. He quickly picked up another chip, popping it into his mouth. "...That's annoyingly good." He looked down at the basket as though it had personally betrayed every reasonable expectation he'd had. "I was fully prepared to prove you wrong. I've built an entire career on being objective." He looked over at Esme with exaggerated disappointment. "And you've compromised my journalistic integrity." His gaze drifted toward the hot sauce she'd set beside him. He reached for it, giving the bottle a little wiggle between his fingers. "I hate to admit it..." His grin returned. "...but I think you've earned the right to carry emergency hot sauce." He added just a small drizzle across another chip before taking another bite. "...Yep. That's the move." Rhys leaned back against the bench, balancing the basket on one knee as the sounds of cheering from the arena grew. "So," he said between bites, "apart from apparently serving as Cypress Cove's unofficial food critic...what's your story?"