Who Am I to Tell Fate Where to Go? [Kylienne]

Guest

Kylian was not a worrier.

In fact, once he made a decision, he hardly ever pondered about it, instead choosing to just go with the flow. Why worry about something already out of his control? It was a ridiculous notion, something that he never saw the benefits of. If he wanted to do something, he did it and dealt with the consequences later, if it was a stupid decision or a wrong one. It was just how he functioned and how he dealt with things.

But ever since he'd asked Julienne to accompany him to Hogsmeade, he'd spent his free time wondering if it had been the right thing to do. What was it about the girl that changed him entirely, making him do things he never normally would? It was almost as though he truly, genuinely cared about what she thought of him and making her comfortable. While he did care about his friends, what they thought of him was never something he'd particularly took into consideration; he was him unapologetically, and if they couldn't deal with it they could leave. He had enough friends who accepted him as he was to 'afford' losing friends. Besides, he'd rather have no friends than bend to the status quo.

But Julienne made him want to impress her. Made him want to say the right thing so she didn't leave. It puzzled and somewhat annoyed him, the strange emotion deep inside that he couldn't place. Admiration? Whatever it was, he felt like he owed it to her to make her comfortable in every situation. As though her happiness meant his happiness. It made no sense.

And then there was the feeling that he'd known her his whole life. When they met, they hardly spoke. Their first interaction had been one that would normally take place between best friends of years and years, not strangers. The question, therefore, remained long after they parted ways -- were they strangers, or had they, somehow, met before? Kylian couldn't figure it out, no matter how hard he tried. A part of him never wanted to, either; why polute what made sense with logical answers?

Early on Saturday morning, Kylian was already awake, questions already beginning to plague him. Was this a date? Was this just lunch between friends? What were his intentions? He didn't know, and it bugged him. The last thing he wanted to do was send false messages, but how could he do that when he didn't even know what he wanted to send? He liked her, sure, but was it in that way? He'd sworn off romance and true love and all that nonsense a long time ago, so surely it couldn't be that.

Could it?

No. Impossible. He tried to convince himself he was being ridiculous, that he'd been reading or watching or listening to too much romance stuff. He knew, however, this wasn't true; that was a genre he stayed far away from. What was it, then? Another question he couldn't answer.

He sighed to himself as he got ready, throwing on a simple outfit and trying his best to push out any of his concerns or questions. He was going to be spending the day with Julienne; what more could he want? Heading to the hall, where he said he'd meet her, Kylian stood near the entrance, early by a good ten minutes as taught by his mother, and waited for her to arrive.

Guest

Red. Her hair was red. Since the moment she'd awoken this morning, Julienne's hair had been a dark shade of velvet. For the better half of the morning, she'd tried to will the colour back to its normal state of brown. Or at least back to a colour in which she felt comfortable. Brown, black, and even blonde shades were all colours that she'd gotten used to. Natural colours made blending into the crowd easily.

But bold, fashion colours such as purple, blue, platinum, and red. She had never been able to warm up to the idea of owning a characteristic so bold and noticeable. It felt like she was involuntarily sporting a sign that said, "Please notice me. Come and speak with me. I can assure you that I'm a good person, but I cannot assure you that you will believe me."

Julienne had considered wearing her hair up in some sort of a ponytail or bun, but it had been so short lately that this would be impossible. It was in moments like these where she wondered if anyone else put so much thought into how they wore their hair on a date.

a date.

Was this a date? Kylian had asked her to meet him in Hogsmeade for lunch. He'd explained that this place was one of his favourite restaurants. But he hadn't explained the terms and conditions of the outing. Would there be other people there? Was she expected to dress formally? Should she have planned conversation topics even though she'd most likely be too nervous to use them anyway? And was this a date?

Perhaps Kylian didn't know the answer to the last question either. The invitation had seemed rather impromptu. She wondered if the words had left his lips before his mind could catch up with itself. She wondered if he'd changed his mind. Perhaps he would not show up at all.

But perhaps he would.

On the day that he'd specified, the day on which her hair refused to cooperate, Julienne made her way to the meeting place that they had arranged in a very simple white dress. With the vibrancy of her hair, the witch had decided that a muted colour such as white would be the best way to go. As she rounded a corner into the hall, Julienne instantly recognized the face of the stranger that she'd met in the owlery; Kylian Dupont.

There was a part of her that still feared Kylian. A part that remained convinced that he would flee at any moment as soon as it clicked in his mind that she wasn't like the normal girls that boys fell for (Was he falling for her? Was she falling for him?). This part of her knew that a warm smile such as his would freeze under the weight of her presence soon enough. And that terrified her.

There was another part of her that was convinced that he was not going anywhere. That he would always be exactly where he'd tell her that he was. He didn't seem like the kind of guy that would turn his back and run away. But then again, she didn't know him. But then again, she did.

"Hi," She spoke in his direction. She watched his eyes carefully, waiting for them to scan her in search for the girl that he'd met at the owlery. She waited for his brow to furrow in confusion. Who was this wannabe ginger that stood before him? She wondered if he'd know.

Guest

As he waited, he wondered if she'd show. She had said yes, of course, but the days had passed since then and he hadn't seen her again -- didn't have the chance. Work, school... They got in the way, as they usually did, and while he passed her a few times or caught sight of her in classes, and 'hi's were said, although nothing more. There was more that his eyes had spoken, anyway, than words ever would. But the outing was never brought up again, nor was confirmation of it; Kylian had just assumed the invitation was still standing.

It was only now, actually waiting for her, that his mind brought up this question. Did she want to go out with him? Or was she only saying yes out of politeness? It was something he hadn't considered before; he'd just figured that she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. But what he did feel, he wasn't sure. There weren't enough words in his vocabulary of two languages to describe it; it simply existed without explanation.

And then he caught sight of a redhead making her way towards him and, somehow, instinctively, knew it was her. While her hair had changed, the way she held herself, the posture of her body and the way her mind called out to him was unmistakable. It was something he didn't -- couldn't -- understand, how he knew it was her, but he didn't bother to question it. Not now, not when she was there and he wanted to devote his attention to not mysteries of the mind or the heart, but her and her alone.

He smiled as she drew closer, eyes taking in her new look. Red hair. He didn't know much about hair styles, but from what he heard from the females he had as friends, redheads apparently had no soul. It also represented passion and fire, but that wasn't anything he thought was true. Hair was hair; it made no difference what colour it was. Having said that, redheads typically had freckles, and for just a moment he pictured Julienne with those and had to hide a grin. The image he pictured made her look adorable. Mentally shaking away that version of the girl and took in the one before him -- the real one -- and his smile widened. While the image he had earlier was cute, the one before him was stunning, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

"Julienne!" he greeted, just a hint of excitement in his voice; she'd shown up. That was more than he could've ever asked for. "You look beautiful," he added, almost as an afterthought, the words not sounding forced or faked. It was a fact, a statement of the truth, and he didn't need to think twice about saying it. "I love your hair. The colour suits you. I'm no expert, but it looks great."

What now? he wondered. How was he to transition between the greeting and the leaving? Was he meant to take the lead? Was he meant to walk beside her? His mind went, ironically, to his dad and step-mum. When they went on dates, how did they behave? Sure, this wasn't a romantic date (was it?) but the principles were the same. Or at least, he hoped it was.

So, almost shyly (a new emotion for him) and tentatively, he offered her the crook of his elbow. "Shall we?" he asked.

Guest

As soon as Kylian's smile warmed her heart, his words offered a fresh blanket of frost over her happiness. Almost immediately, as if it were the first thing he'd noticed, well of course it was the first thing he noticed, he mentioned the new styling that her hair had chosen for itself. He told her that she looked beautiful and that he loved the red. The same red that she'd spent half of the day trying to eliminate. He spoke as though she'd voluntarily chosen to freshen up her look for the Summer; a bold statement to represent a fresh start. But this was not a fresh start, no. This appeared to be the same old pattern coming back into repetition.

Somewhere deep down, where all the dreams and hopes she'd fabricated lay in wait of courage's light, she hoped that this boy would know exactly what words to say at exactly what moments. Sometimes he did. And sometimes even the most professional sportsmen miss the goal. She decided to try and brush it off in her mind. Perhaps he'd simply assumed that girls enjoyed being complimented. In fact, most girls loved receiving attention on physical traits. Some girls changed up their look for no reason other than to see if their significant other noticed. Julienne was not one of those girls.

"Thank you," she said softly, hoping that her voice had enough sincerity to convince him that she appreciated the effort.

"I like the brunette better," She said softly. Her heart jumped, surprised that she'd said the words out loud. Usually, these were the sorts of thoughts that she would keep to herself. Usually, every thought was the sort of thought that she would keep to herself. She didn't add the reasoning behind why she liked the brunette better. She didn't really know why she liked the brunette better. Perhaps because it was a more neutral colour than shades such as blonde and red. It made it easier to blend in with a large croud.

Soon, but nowhere near soon enough, the conversation jumped from her appearance to the objective of the day. She'd been given a rough idea of what Kylian planned for them to do, but a majority of the details were still foggy in her mind. And there were a million scenarios for which she had no ability to prepare.

What if Kylian saw someone he knew? Perhaps a friend or a roommate. Would they approach the two? Would a conversation begin? What if Kylian introduced Julienne to said friend and she had to say hello? How would Kylian introduce her? What would he introduce her as? Was she a friend? Or perhaps she was a stranger? Or maybe she was more?

"Shall we?" Kylian held out his arm to her.

She reached for his arm gently, fitting her elbow into his like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She nodded, taking in a deep breath and hoping that her fears were simply that.

(OOC: Sorry I didn't give you alot to work with. I had a million conversation starters in my head, but Julienne said I was lucky to get her out-loud opinion on her hair colour)