Miscommunication (Gideon & Deimos) (Closed)

This day was one of the few Gideon had woke up feeling alright. He had slept well enough, woke up on the right side of the bed, his breakfast had been stellar, and no one had tried cramping his style. He was in such a jovial mood that he'd even went out of his way to greet some of the people who lived down the hall, something that only happened on the most extraordinary of days. He was on his way to the Courtyard area, wishing to surround himself in greenery and forget why he was here in the first place. 

He made his way to the courtyard with a new novel in hand, a small, smug smile gracing his features. His green eyes scanned the area and, not seeing anyone at first, found a suitable place to lay in the grass and take a load off. He hadn't been there long when he became aware of the fact that he had company, a familiar scent alerting him that it was someone he knew. Of course, he didn't rise from earth, too keen on figuring out what Brad was about to do to Christine.

Gideon was so engrossed in his novel that he hardly bothered to pay attention to what was going on around him, but as soon as the sobbing began, he was drawn away from the typesetting that lay before him. This wouldn't have been his ideal place to cry, so naturally, his sense of curiosity was overwhelming. Though he was unable to recall just who the scent belonged to, he figured he would be more of an asshat if he just continued laying there and reading than if he meandered over to the crier and offered some comfort. He figured it was better him than someone else, anyway.

Of course, he was blissfully unaware of the fact that he was not the male whose attention was wanting, and it never crossed his mind that he might not even be welcome to approach. He clambered to his feet lazily and followed the sounds of sorrow to their owner, who he soon recognized to be Rosalind Bonner. Of all people to have encountered in tears, she was the last he'd expected to find. They both came to the academy around the same time and she was perhaps one of the most kind and gentle people he'd met, which lead him to believe that something was seriously up.

Book in hand, the young man made his way over to the small, sobbing form, his eyes filled with concern. He moved to gently lay a hand on her shoulder, sitting down alongside. "What's wrong?" His voice carried with it feelings of carefully lapping waves, soothing notes that he hoped would help to quiet the sobs that racked the tiny frame beside him. 

Gideon offered up a rather sheepish smile in response to her surprise, feeling a little more guilty than he looked. "Yeah, I've been in here for a while." He wasn't all that interested in discussing why it was he hadn't gotten up to say hello immediately, so he just kind of passed up on the opportunity. Perhaps it would be better that way.

To Gideon, it seemed that his very presence was enough to get Rosalind to steady herself. He would have liked to entertain the possibility that he had some sort of natural ability to soothe the nerves, but he knew that wasn't the case. If he had the ability to do anything to nerves, it was get on them. Every. Last. One.

"Don't worry about it?" He inquired, giving the dark-haired girl a curious look. "I don't think I'll lose any sleep over it myself, but by all means, if you want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen." Honesty was the best policy, though there were five thousand other ways Gideon could have phrased his words so that he didn't seem so crass.

Before he could answer her question and divert her attention, Rosie had already asked about his book, something that he'd already managed avoiding to begin with. Despite how much he enjoyed his girly literature, he hardly enjoyed admitting he read it, let alone to those who could potentially be interested in him. "I wasn't reading much of anything, really," he played off what he had been doing with a certain type of nonchalance that only seemed suspicious. "You didn't distract me, per se, I just figured my attention may have been needed elsewhere." He offered up a charming smile and slid his book back, hoping Rosalind wouldn't see the cover; it just so happened to portray a starstruck couple overlooking a vineyard, a large 'SMITTEN' scrawled across the top. It was one of the cheesiest books he'd ever read, but the author had done a fantastic job of bringing the characters to life.

"People tease you?" he quipped, genuinely unaware. Most details went unobserved by the likes of Gideon Goldstone, as he was always so preoccupied with the way his hair looked and the way he smelled that he didn't notice his surroundings. That and, well, it wasn't like he got out and tried to socialize on the daily. He kept a fairly low profile, for the most part, despite how much he felt his value should be known. "What in the world do they have to tease a girl like you about?" Somewhere deep within the words was a heartfelt compliment the likes of which typically only left Gideon's mouth when he was trying to hook up with someone, though that was certainly not the case in this scenario. He knew his boundaries... for the most part. If there was anything he had heard, it was that Rosie had a boyfriend. Regardless of how much he was set on treating himself, he wasn't a woman stealer.

Of course, his previous questions were answered and there came a dampening of his bright aura, something that tended to happen when all of the feelings he so desperately tried to cage niggled at the corners of his mind. "That's not good," was the measly condolence he could offer, pursing his lips to show his distaste for those who were mocking people who were less fortunate. "That's not even something you have any control over, so it's legitimately obscene that there are people giving you grief about it. You really shouldn't have to worry about brushing that sort of thing off." There was a twinge of irritation in Gideon's velvety voice, something that came about because he was generally annoyed with some people's children.

Then Rosalind continued explaining, and Gideon couldn't help but to notice the hair that began to bristle at his neck. It seemed bullies always targeted those who were the brightest, and that was something that he could legitimately get upset about. Words were one thing - they could hurt, but they were easier to brush off - but physical boundaries were another. Hearing that there had been people who were harming the fairy sitting next to him was horrible, and with the notion came a pungent taste in Gideon's mouth. As she continued speaking, matters only seemed to get worse. Had Gideon known who the perpetrators of these heinous acts had been, he'd have been liable to call them up and threaten to kick their asses himself, but lo - he hadn't all the details he needed to do such a thing.

In fact, he hadn't even the words. He'd seen the bruises, could feel the pain radiating from Rosie, and found himself believing her every word. A look of genuine concern crossed his face and he removed his hand from his cheesy romance novel, if only so he could sidle closer to the fairy and pull her in near his warm chest. He hadn't a care in the world about how her tears might soil his outfit, nor did he care about what others might think about what they were seeing. All he cared about in that moment was Miss Bonner's wellbeing.

"Let it all out," he murmured, using his hand to rub her back gently, a gesture he used to long for when he cried himself to sleep. "When you're able, try to take deep breaths." There was strong emphasis placed on the word deep, and he was trying to keep his voice low so that he neither drew attention to the two of them (though he was nearly certain they were alone) or made her feel like harm was going to continue coming her way. While he waited for Rosie's reaction, he mulled over all the nonsense she'd been put through, and wished that the world would someday be a better place. He didn't know how she was able to cope with all the things others had thrown her way, but he was certain she was far stronger than he may ever be. Hell, he was still running from his problems.

"There's no need to worry now, I promise," his voice was filled with unapologetic honesty, something he'd been working at for a while. "I've got you." The words were perhaps some of the most sincere he'd spoken in a while. Should anything happen and he caught wind of it, he'd be at someone's throat, though perhaps only metaphorically; he'd always been a fan of blackmail and manipulation rather than classic brawls.

Third wheeling it hard, Gideon managed an eye roll and leaned back against the tree, more than comfortable sitting around and watching what was about to unfold, unfold. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and he felt leaving might just get him into trouble. It wasn't like he disliked conflict, he just didn't like being the pilot of a crash landing plane, and he felt like the only direction this conversation could go was down. He listened to Rosalind reiterate her story to her lover with saddened eyes, his face the image of grief. He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but he definitely wanted some justice for Rosie, the kind that didn't involve violence. The tale was violent enough as it were.

Perhaps if he'd been more accessible, things could have been different, but he wouldn't sit there and mull over what could have been. The issue was real and needed to be addressed, and since he'd heard of the problem, it would be irresponsible to leave the couple to handle it themselves. They'd be stuck with him for a while, whether they liked it or not. Of course, he'd prefer a more passive role in the whole thing, if only because he wanted time to read to his heart's content. 

"It's nobody's fault, save the perpetrators," Gideon stated frankly, though he was now the one ruining the moment. "The people who did this should pay for it, in one way or another. You shouldn't have to shoulder such a burden for the rest of your life." His words were jam-packed with sincerity, the expression on his face making it quite clear that he intended to do something a little more than passive. Should the fairy's lover want him to butt out, he would be forced to insist otherwise.