I Speak for the Trees [Open!]

[Chloë Delacroix]

To say that old habits die hard is to say the least. The very least.

An introvert now, or so she thought, Chloë had returned to France to visit her sister shortly after Marthallius had abandoned her. Yet sisterly love only went so far and the Delacroix spent her time in France in the same fashion she had in London. Lurking. Alone. In silence. This didn’t bother her, but it did age her. Nevertheless, a newfound determination had grown out of the wild black hair on the 4’9 gremlin. She would return to London. She would get her life back. She would be happy.

Easier said than done, Chloë.

She scowled. Her dark eyes scanned the Organic park. It was familiar. The trees were taller however, more mature—unlike Miss Chloë who seemed to regress with each step. She stood awkwardly on the path, having left her belongings at Cleo’s for now. She looked like a child, her black hair—having grown to her lower back—was in a messy plait like a little girl who spent too much time playing, a beige dress that fit loosely and was fitted with a tiny black belt and black flats. Naturally, her hands found her waist and she sighed.

Don’t forget to breathe, Chloë.

The voice inside her head chided, but it was right. The anxiety of so many unfamiliar faces had left the Delacroix in a state which lacked oxygen. Oh boy, this was going to be a disaster. How was she going to regain a position at St. Mungo’s when the close proximity of strangers intimidated her so greatly? She’d figure that out later. For now, she’d focus on the trees.

As if by a gravitational pull, Chloë walked directly towards the smallest tree. It was quite a ways down the path and she had to weave in and out of people to get there. Upon arrival, the middle Delacroix placed her hand firmly upon the trunk of the tree. Her dark eyes closed and she felt like Pocahontas. Indecisive. Chloë could not determine whether it was the tree or her voices that seemed to sing her a welcome home. But frankly, all she wanted was to climb the tree. Unfortunately, even at the smallest tree she was far too short to reach. A pout formed on her chapped lips as she dropped to the ground, leaning her back against the tree as she crossed her arms.

At least her size made it acceptable for her to throw tantrums.

[River Mal'Ghanis]

The light-framed shadow smirked. The path had no idea what was coming for it. She braced her will to sprint, and took off. She had run across too much space to tell how fast she'd gone. Her imaginary time limit had been in her grasp.

Only, now she started to feel like she might be out of control. Maybe. Perhaps running in heels was a poor choice. With a slip, she went careening inches away from a food cart. Whoops. Guess I'm at least a little lucky, though.

She picked herself up and dusted herself off. At least her unnecessarily protective court attire was unnecessarily protective. Her emerald-green eyes failed to see that she would look like a lunatic to anybody else.

Oh, but what fun this would be! River Anne Mal'Ghanis had spied, with her little eye, a woman her relatives had told her about--photographs of social occasions included. This lass was Marth's idea of a good friend, but of course, he'd probably lost touch with her. Two heads may be better than one, but twice nothing is still nothing when it comes to brains.

"Need a lift, Miss?" The green-eyed lady asked. She scanned her friendship quarry. Yes, this person would make a good acquaintance, at least whilst River was in the area. Friendship! It would be required. "By the way, the twins send their regards."

[Chloë Delacroix]

As the middle child, Chloë could throw tantrums like no other. She had completely closed herself off from her surroundings—because they were so involved with her at the time. Her tiny fingers destroying her plait slowly. Pulling at the hair and frizzing it carefully, intentionally. What was she going to do if she couldn’t climb the tree? The tiny girl wasn’t fit for a job yet, she needed to adjust.

She was beginning to think she’d never adjust. Being a functional, civilized adult was just not in the cards. Oblivious to everything around her, the appearance of someone standing in front of her nearly scared her witless. She is talking to you. Chloë had to be reminded. She squeaked in fear. Who would want to talk to her? Dropping the plait, she lifted her head slowly. “I-I…” Don’t know how to talk?

She frowned for a second, but the voices were right. Chloë didn’t know what to say and to make things worse the strange lady had clearly recognized her. Twins? The Delacroix’s eyes widened with confusion and fear. She knew far too many twins. Her younger siblings, her niece and nephew, her cousins the Pleuvoir’s, Indrick and Marthallius—hell, even Cleo and Surku were frequently considered twins.

Chloë stood up slowly, still eyeing the woman in fear. “D-do… I kn-know you?” She asked finally, but she couldn’t make eye contact. The woman, like everyone else, towered over her. Twins, Chloë. No, no, no. Even the thought of twins brought feelings of despair and abandonment now.

[River Mal'Ghanis]

The green-eyed lady's eyes twitched for a second. Either she doesn't recognize their face in me, or she hates them a lot. Both possible, neither good. Her eyes scanned the barcode that was the situation, eager to pass their appraisal to the person running her internal checkstand.

This one, however, was a tough nut to crack. Nobody in their right--or in this case, slightly wrong, mind, would put River on the cover of Sanity Fair. But Crazy Women (TM) weren't the easiest to read, and the subject's confused, terrified look made the situation potentially dire.

Oh, but this would not do. As a charming young woman, it was River's staunch mission to warm this young lady up to her. After all, she had a reputation to maintain. Who says only young men had to maintain reputations of suaveness? Scoundrels happen to come in all shapes, sizes, and genders. And levels of competence...

River curtseyed to the young woman (despite being in pants), barely managing to bow her head below Chloe's own head. As she rose from this curtsey, she winked at Chloe. Too fast to be taken for certain, but not entirely invisible either. She offered her hand outwards.

Gracefully, with a flick of the wrist, she attempted to bring her arms into contact with Chloe's, clearly making an upward motion. "I asked, young miss, if you'd like a lift?" she repeated, with the utmost politeness.

[Chloë Delacroix]

So. Confused. Chloë should’ve known that her return would be filled with confusion and anxiety. The voices were constantly reminding her to breathe, but the Delacroix was petrified of the situation she’d stumbled upon. It was clear this woman knew her somehow, but the somehow had completely baffled the tiny girl. Normally, she would retreat to somewhere secluded—perhaps a tree, which leads us back onto the correct Delacroix Train of Thought.

The dilemma. The offering. Her black eyes flicked back and forth between the back of her head (the tree) and the woman. The longer Chloë eyed the woman, the more familiar she looked, but for mixed reasons. The tiny girl was now certain that she had never met this woman before. But she was distinct and looked like a memory. Chloë’s time spent trying to figure the puzzle out had been interrupted by a curtsy. A complete lack of sanity clearly rain through both sets of veins as the confused look upon her tiny face didn’t stop Chloë from curtsying in return.

The offer to help her into the tree was polite, but she shook her head. “N-no, thank you. It…it kind of defeats the purpose if…if I’m seen getting in…” her voice trailed off and she began to chew on her tiny lip. Surely she sounded like a mad woman. Who climbs trees only to decline getting help climbing trees? It was all very misleading and complicated and the Delacroix was very distracted trying to place the familiar face hidden within the strangers.

Who did you last see, Chloë? Cleo. You nitwit, last time you were in London. Her head looked like it was about to explode with the concentration her thoughts required. Marthallius. It hit her like a ton of bricks. Her black eyes were the size of solar systems and she let out a small squeak. No, no, no. How? No. Just, no. She did say twins, Chloë.

[River Mal'Ghanis]

The green-eyed lady looked the smaller girl over. Being 5'7" definitely left her dwarfed by her over-a-foot-taller twin relatives. Being smaller seemed to be fitting for this scared little creature. The delicate littler one seemed to squirm underneath River's fingertips. It's too bad she's so fragile, she thought to herself.

She thought it best to withdraw her hands from their offering pose. Slowly, she brought her arms away. Aware that the smaller creature was indeed somewhat disturbed by this interaction, she fell still and silent for a moment. Are people this afraid of me?

"There's no need to be afraid, doll," the green-eyed lady said. She inched away slightly, giving her new friend some space. Her lips pulled across her face into a false, but comforting, smile. She fluttered her eyelashes just barely, the light playing over her emerald green eye shadow. Unlike the entire rest of her face, River's eyes were quite heavily made up.

"If you don't want help, lass, then at least tell me why you're climbing that tree," River remarked with a tone halfway between challenging and flirtatious. She decided the girl she was flirting with was almost certainly both oblivious and uninterested. Oh well. "And by the way, I think it'd do to be acquainted properly. My name's River. Or Anne. River Anne Mal'Ghanis, to be complete. How do you do?"

[Chloë Delacroix]

Breathe, Chloë.

Right. Inhale, exhale. Slow movements that forced her lungs to work. Freaking out was not the way to approach your first social interaction outside of family in over two years. Of course. She forced her eyes shut tightly taking another slow inhale and opening her eyes as she exhaled. Chloë was in desperate need of a twelve step program to fight her internal battles for her. Her methods proved only minor and temporary results of a calming sensation. In her pathetic attempt to keep cool, the Delacroix fidgeted with the belt upon her dress. She was an antsy child at heart, squirming with desire to run off and play—except all she really wanted to escape was her head.

Pay attention, Chloë.

I know, I know. But the green eyes were intense and made the tiny girl’s nose twitch impatiently. A frown falling over her chapped lips as she was questioned by the woman. Purpose. The confused look that had made permanent residence on Chloë’s face was replaced by intense pondering. She was no longer sure what the purpose was in climbing the tree, it was just what she did. “It’s a habit of mine.” The Delacroix swallowed her fear down after the confession. Her hands dropping from the dress to behind her back.

I told you.

Her calm state was thwarted by reality. This woman was somehow related to Indrick and Marth. Hopefully that was how she knew her and not that Chloë had actually met her before. She covered her mouth quickly, embarrassed by the squeak her realization had stolen from her. River. The introduction even verified it. River Anne Mal’Ghanis. She lowered her hand and moved it back behind her back before introducing herself. “I’m Chloë… Delacroix. Chloë Delacroix. But I-I think you already knew—sorry about that…” Well, some things hadn’t changed since she left. The middle child was still exceedingly awkward, except now she could barely get her name out and was about to start talking in circles.