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Marie started her day earlier than usual, today. At around… oh… 4AM or so. Already anticipating her upcoming vacation, she consulted her cards as always, put together breakfast, woke the roommate (because these things must be shared!) and highly recommended a trip down to the oceanside — and Coney Islands beachfront seemed as appropriate as anywhere.
"Quickly, quickly!" instructs Marie, wrapped up in her cozy coat that's certainly having it's work cut out for it — though the temperature on this date manages to stay on the friendlier side of the freezing mark, just not by much. Slung over her arm is a picnic basket — which her dutifully prepared meals are contained within — but only until she reaches her destination. Still on the pier, near some of the food vendors and more specifically, one of the tables set up for the consumption of the various concoctions that can be found in this part of the city. Granted, this early in the morning? That is to say… about 6:30 AM, those vendors aren't exactly /open/ yet. For that matter, neither is the sun, still hiding below the horizon line for it's upcoming appearance.
*
Early morning and the Coney Island beachfront? Are they insane? Apparently winter in the city, or rather late autumn, means picking up one's sleep at other hours. The scrub of her palm against the hollows of her eyes leave Scarlett barely conscious, and she sighs while wandering about her routine. The bracing temperature has an impact, just not as much of one as someone could expect. She briskly moves along, too, hugging herself against the bracing sea breeze that forever toys with the unsuspecting mortals. The girl's mood has been unusually mercurial and thoughtful, and she follows along after Marie, one step below the other. "You must not mean to watch the sunrise, do you?" Her yawn is concealed by force of will, cheek muscles flexing, her jaw gritted long enough to suppress the sound. "Mm. I hardly think that I could endure another morning staring at my textbooks. I am glad these exams are done, to be sure." The route at Columbia has been exhausting, and there is less and less appetite for it.
*
"Oui, I do." Marie reveals, green eyes shining with excitement as she climbs up into one of the available seats, curling her legs up under herself and turning so that she can face the ocean. Letting herself breathe in the air that comes in from over the water as her hair blows with the breeze. Lips curved into a rather pleased smile as she waits.
"It seemed appropriate to do, in order to get us into the mood for the trip to come, non? I spoke to Roberto… he agreed to Bora Bora, and said that he would meet us for dinner within the next couple days in order to discuss our travel plans, because we know you likely have many duties in the States to attend to, still."
At least, that was the best guess that she and Roberto could come up with.
*
"Ever the romantic. You can take the girl out of France, but not the French out of the girl. Not for nothing are you considered the cultural capital for Europe and, I think, a leader for the world however much they want to agree otherwise." Tipping her head back, the elder redheaded bohemian regards the fading darkness gathered over the ultramarine sky with a modicum of intense curiosity. What she sees up there can no doubt be ascribed to a good many things, not the least of which is an interesting pattern of stars hazed by the clouds and the slow descent of Venus towards the horizon on her latest transit. She joins Marie a moment later in an adjacent seat, her knees lifted and feet flat to the front part. Wind blowing over her tights does not meet impenetrable skin; she's just very good at enduring the cold.
A smile touches her lips, but it does not entirely meet her eyes yet, her thoughts three realms and a million miles away. "I think that sounds completely delightful. Somewhere to get away from the cold. Bora Bora, can you imagine?" Don't laugh at why she animates, but she certainly does. "We could eat breadfruit. Imagine! I have always wanted to try it and see if it tastes any good, or it's simply something the French artists who wandered that way tried to make palatable and failed. It is a come down from French cuisine if the fruit is bland. The British Navy I could understand, but that." Her gaze is shut off and she laughs. "Likely many duties? Nay."
*
There's a little blush offered in response; but the smile never fades from Marie's lips. "Sunrises are breathtaking to behold. I /have/ watched them in the past… but never over the ocean." Plus, the company she's with? There really isn't any better in the french girl's mind. She's /comfortable/ when the taller girl's around in a way that she just isn't around other people. Which might be why when Scarlett takes her seat, Marie tilts her form just a bit in order to lean against her friend.
"I am glad to hear I represent my home country appropriately, though." Pause. "Well. The country of my birth, at least." …because in all honesty? Her short time in the States has made her feel more at home than her time in France did. It was the people she ran into here, and there. They made all the difference. "I /can/ imagine," she agrees, eyes fluttering closed and a soft 'mm' escaping her lips. "It sounds so wonderful… and I will not miss the cold." Although, there were certainly some benefits to the cold. The snow was pretty to look at, for one thing! While out shopping, she's seen people go out ice skating — something that looked pretty interesting itself. However, she's a creature of warmth, inside and out, and certainly desires the same. "…well, I did not /know/… but I had thought it better to check with you before we decided." …plus, well, /decisions./ She has trouble with them.
*
Happiness through the lens of another person is sometimes the best reflected at all. There are plenty of social and religious organizations that practically canonize the act of kindness merely to see goodness done in the world. If that constitutes sitting with a beloved friend on a chair overlooking the ocean, then truly is Scarlett blessed. She pulls her dress a little lower, leaving the sweep of her thighs better covered against the bluster. The hem still plays in little ripples, pinned in place. The bohemian's sunny smile filters warmth through the lens of winter.
"France and the United States have an excellent reputation. You may call them both. Is there not a certain strength in the identity you gained?" Their common language is French, after all, though Scarlett often shifts into English simply to aid the young woman learning it. Her laughter rings bell-bright under the stars fading in their transit. "Azure seas, white beaches, quiet volcanoes: these are the things of which a dreamy December are made. Think of how blue the sky might look, and how vast the lagoons. You cannot tell me that is not bewitching. I shall have to take my camera, and make sure we explore all over. Even if that's the beach." Ice skating is well and good, but the joy of delving into the sea after a fish too priceless to give up at this point. Her feet lightly kicked forward topples her back into the seat, and she looks to Marie. "As ever your manners are beautiful and you are, for a word, a gem. Thank you. Now that my exams are done, I can fly to the moon for all it matters."
*
Just as Scarlett's French has improved through conversations with the Lyonnaise, Marie's English is certainly improving with each conversation she has with her roommate in the language; it's a symbiotic relationship that works out very well for the pair, to say the least. "I suppose this is true; I can take pride in where I am from, and in where I /am/ as well."
Then the description of the beach, painting out a picture that the shorter girl can easily see in inside her head. It only makes her anticipation for the trip double all the more, and the smell of the ocean air only helps magnify the experience. It's definitely part of why she brought Scarlett out here… it sets the mood for the trip wonderfully.
…and then she's being complimented, and she turns redder once again, this time opening eyes to glance down at the ground. "You flatter me so, but…" she trails off, tucking a bit of stray hair behind her ear. "…I am nothing special, truly. Just a girl like any other, and there are plenty far more interesting than I…" and a smile is offered, though she doesn't move her head to show it. "…you owe me no thanks; these are things you deserve for your kindness and it is my pleasure to offer."
*
French is a forgiving, beautiful language in many ways. It accepts mastery without complaint, and allows for endless refinement. Practice makes perfect, but perfection is ever unattainable, for there are always ways to improve on the vocabulary, the poetry in motion. Her sigh lingering on the air, Scarlett huddles a little more into her coat to resist the chilly bite of the air running off the sea. It won't hurt her tremendously, though she has a faint blush of rose to her cheeks, weaker than it should be, but present.
Yes, she wants to be in Polynesia very much at this moment. Teleportation would be lovely and it's not an option in the least. No way, no hell; more is the pity. It is so cold! To have that airplane right now would have Scarlett running for the door and buckled in before anyone could even put any gas into that thing.
"You are special. Your modesty does you credit, but you are a remarkable person and someone I am blessed to consider my friend." Her smile brightens by shades. "You are not a girl like any other. Most of them have not a thought in their skulls beyond themselves, and they are consumed by a great many things. Few worry about helping others as you do."
*
The cold definitely has its effects, and Marie is easily the member of the pair that most feels it… but at the same time, she's determined, even as the sky starts to light up as the first rays of sunshine pour over the horizon, the sky changing colors in a manner so beautifully controlled that it's almost as if there was a conductor orchestrating the hues themselves. It's a sight that would be better with warmer weather, yes… but it certainly is breathtaking nonetheless.
Then she's being complimented further, and she blushes all the deeper. It's not a hard thing to do to Marie, though. Not in the slightest. "Y-you… treat me far too k-kindly, Scarlett." she stammers, forcing her head back up to look at her friend. "There… are others who t-think as I do… you yourself are a marvelous example of putting others before y-yourself. Far more than I…" she replies, her tone soft. She's definitely not used to having praise heaped upon her, and it's hard to accept easily.
*
The redheaded bohemian prepares herself for this, for it's not as though she plans on gallivanting off when the break of day is nearly upon them and the whole purpose for waking up so awfully early imminent. Terribly hard to resist a yawn, she stifles its presence with the back of her hand against her rosy lips. Scarlett fixes her gaze upon the slowly pinkened rim of the horizon, the water surrendering its grayish shade for something infinitely more hopeful, softer in the rosy touch of dawn.
"I would have trouble naming any of them but Jean, but assuredly your insight into these things is better than mine. Empathy is not always my strong suit," she murmurs, tucking her feet together and pointing her knees down. The stretch in those long legs of hers is considerable through the quads and hamstrings, and damn well hurts, but such is easily borne for purposes as this. "I am so glad your cards brought you from Lyon. They do not know what lovely thing they lost, more to their pity." Her shoulders rounded, she braces her hands back against the sides of the chair, giving herself a particularly useful stretch. Morning is usually spent with yoga, if not cloud dancing. "Have you thought what you would like to do in the new year? Charles I hope explained things some. I still feel a decided need to do more, something purposeful. Given all these accusations, and poor Gabriel. Jean's taking him underwing, and possibly more, if I had to guess. Team of four merry souls?"
*
"I feel for Mademoiselle Jean… she /does/ seem a kind soul, but the cards…" Marie trails off for a long moment, biting her lower lip. Unsure of how to put things into words; but there would be no secrets. If she can't be honest with Scarlett, with who can she be? "…they tell of a great burden that she carries with her. Something that troubles her — beyond even the unkind words spoken by the gruff man." she wishes she could do more to help, but the time wasn't right. At least she was able to cook something for redhead that shares her height; food goes a long way with Marie, maybe it did with Jean, too!
The movement of the stretch is caught out of the corner of the smaller redhead's eye, and it's something that she lets her vision linger on. Quietly reflecting, before turning her eyes once again towards the horizon. "I am glad they did, as well. I have had days when I wonder what would happen if I chose not to follow their commands…" she admits, trailing off for a moment. There've been some times. Even the trip to America gave her a little pause. It meant theft. Theft was a /sin./ "…but I find time and time again that they know best, I only need follow." It really did work out well for her, afterall.
"I have not asked… but I admit to having my hopes." Thoughts of the new year? She hadn't gone that far; she rarely thought beyond the day, and rarer still would she /read/ beyond it. It seemed too much like tempting fate. "The Professor… he seems knowledgeable, and kind. It is nice to be welcomed for who I am, without fear for hiding." …the comment about Jean and Gabriel, though? Has her blushing again. This time, she's outright going to hide her face — should Scarlett's dress cover the bohemians arms, she's bury her face against one. Else? She'll sink down into her own coat, cheeks hidden by the collar. "Oui. They seem… very content together." she opines, her tone wistful; even a little envious.
"…what of yourself? You feel the need to do more… have you considered what the year ahead holds for you?"
*
Gentle words sometimes deserve to be used to encourage. Other times, it's a swift kick in the pants to get a person going forward. Hard not to feel for the young woman so out of her element, so very uncomfortable as the result of a humble nature tracked under the spotlight. Scarlett is not unkind to that fact, nodding softly at the statements made by Marie. "You are quite right. She carries perhaps the hardest burden for all to bear; the most difficult that anyone should be asked to labour under. She does so with grace, although not always perfection. We are all human, after all." The warmth in her voice accepts this fact as sacred, even if perhaps it's nothing she herself can embrace. It causes no little difficulty, sometimes, being faced with one's own imperfections and mortality.
she watches the sun peeking over the horizon, slow but stately. It's the watched pot that eventually has to dawn in a boiling mass of clouds. "I think you might find they were slightly hurt, but they would continue. For their purpose is not met without you to fulfill it. Even the finest instrument is silent and forlorn without someone to play it. Once or twice, you might find that you know in your heart and your spirit the advice offered is wise, but not the right advice. It is easy to be guided too smoothly by a steady horse, but there must be roads even that horse is unfamiliar with. Eyes open and heart aligned to mind, that is how sometimes I look at the matter. It's a hard choice, choosing to act contrary to what you know. Or acting because of what you know. I hear a person I care for is accused of murdering a president, for example. And my faith tells me one thing, but there is a lasting silence, a farewell with the weight of Asgard around us… and I knew I chose my path, but was it the one I should be on? My soul hasn't told me. If I have one still."
Her fingers lace back around her knees, and she leans forward instead of back, chuckling as Marie uses her sleeves for coverage. The coat and long sleeved dress help. "They will have many challenges, but I hope they are content. I hope for myself nothing, really." It's a dreadful statement. "Magic. That is my desire, to fully kindle what I might learn and master something of it. I suppose to be happy. My dreams are… diffuse, amorphous. It is hard."
*