A STRANGER TO LOVE — open, birthday

[eliza]

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twenty-six years had passed, since the day darcy davids had entered the world. twenty-six years of books and studying, of plants and poultices, of sand and oceans, of waves and silence. nine thousand, four hundred, ninety-six days since she'd taken her breath. thousands of miles traveled, seventeen boats, five bicycles, three wagons, two feet. so many numbers, quantities, measurements had passed by, slow then fast, and in the end, darcy found herself sitting alone that morning, a glass of decidedly clear liquid in one hand, a candle in the other, having long since deduced that she'd never quite be a good enough chef for a cake, staring boredly at the flame as it danced about.

"happy birthday darcy," she mumbled to herself, minding to keep her voice low so as to not draw attention to herself, "you're less alone then last year." she assured herself, smiling a little at the thought. at least there were people in her general proximity, albeit otherwise occupied. she liked it that way, though; the freckled young woman had never saw point in celebrating birthdays, but the candle was a tradition. eyes shutting, she pressed her lips into a thin line. i wish i can learn how to bake a cake, for next year. she'd blow the candle out, eyes opening once more and a sigh escaping her lips.

[torquemada]

[align=center][div style="width:450px; text-align:justify"]Addison doesn't remember when his birthday is. He vaguely recalls it being in the spring; he and his family had celebrated with a loaf of bread cut into an awkward circle to mimic a birthday cake, two matchsticks sticking out of its center as makeshift candles, all the while leaves were just barely budding on the drooping tree outside the kitchen window. Robins had been singing, dew constantly dotted the grass outside, and it rained everyday, non-stop. That's all he remembers about his birthday, that he'd been born in the spring, just like his favorite painter. If only he could remember the actual date. For the past several years Addison has just stuck to being in a celebratory state for the whole season, assuming that if he can't recall the exact day then he can just celebrate until the summer heat hits and life around him is blaring at full-blast.

Unfortunately for the residents of Flintlock, Addison is always in an insufferably cheerful state, and the fact that he is in 24-hour celebration mode does nothing to dampen his near-irritating levels of optimism. He is an entire ray of sunshine blinding those around him, irradiating them all to the point of illness, and he is only going to get worse. For some, the shiny white smile forever plastered to his face is unsettling; disconcerting in such a way that his happiness cancels out and he looks more of a creep than anything else. Addison likes to consider himself a breath of fresh air among the gloomy lodge, blanketed in suffocating white snow and a general air of depression and despair. This mindset is what leads Addison to be frolicking mindlessly about the building, humming to himself with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book to his face.

The quiet mumbling of a girl nearby is nothing out of the ordinary for him; he would have kept walking had she not mentioned the word birthday. He stops dead in his tracks, twirls around sharply on his heel, and quickly slithers over to her with all the enthusiasm of a stampeding elephant. "Did you say it's your birthday?" He asks with wide eyes and a look of exaggerated curiosity. He clasps his hands together and swoons at the mere idea, and without asking he plops down right next to Darcy. His mouth turns into something akin to a turret and immediately, without skipping a beat, Addison fires a barrage of questions her way like a spray of irritably joyous bullets.

"How old are you turning? Are you going to throw a party? Do you want a party? I can get you a present! Or, well, paint one... oh, what'd you wish for?" At the very least, Addison has the sense to keep himself a reasonable distance from Darcy; not close enough to pop her personal bubble, and not far enough for him to have to raise his voice. He doesn't for a moment consider how weird this is, and how impersonal. They're both strangers, and Addison has skipped the introduction and gone straight into talking this girl's ear off. Fortunately, he realizes this and unceremoniously interrupts himself, mechanically sticking out a paint-splattered hand for Darcy to shake. "Right! I forgot! M'name is Addison Ackley! I didn't catch yours, though."

[eliza]

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all darcy could immediately think was that this boy was probably her long lost brother, because he reminded her of her mother to an almost alarming degree. perhaps he wasn't quite inspecting himself in the mirror as much as ophelia often did, and he didn't seem to be trying to seduce anyone, but he had the loudness and the high energy that mirrored her mother's almost perfectly. it made something in her head, right behind her eyes, ache a little.

"twenty-six." she said, enunciating the words very carefully, so they wouldn't be lost in the english accent she bore. god, she was getting old. she had a solid decade on most of the people around here, give or take a few years. she'd been the baby of her family, one of the youngest on the island. always the tallest, though - by twelve, she'd taken on that title, surpassing her aunt christina. she'd found herself towering above others at an easy six-foot-three from a young age, and even still, she had to peer down at most people. it was terrible, really, but people didn't often pick fights with the red head.

a party was thrown out there, and darcy reeled a little at the word. "oh, uh," she chewed the inside of her lip, features resembling those of a deer in headlights. "you don't need to go through the trouble. i haven't had a party in years." two years was plural, right? she didn't want this stranger thinking she was missing anything, after all. at the introduction, she fought back a sigh - this, introducing herself, that was familiar territory. "darcy davids." she said, accent curling the words into more of a dah-see dayy-vids, offering an awkward hand to shake.