He Sells Seashells

He muttered, "Yeah, you'd think so..." It was easy to think that being this way was cool and fun and unique, rather than the incredibly stressful thing that it actually was. Every day he had to look around in fear and make sure that nothing was going to hurt him. He had to be on his toes all the time, aware of everything around him, aware of every single little thing that might happen if he wasn't paying attention. Inattention wasn't allowed for someone who could break in tiny bits if they stopped paying attention for fifteen minutes.

"When I reform I come back fully healed. The only reason I don't just throw myself down some steps whenever I get cracked is cuz I basically die every time so... it's not fun." After he said that, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, that was kinda TMI, wasn't it? My bad."

He looked out to the sunset and relaxed his grip on his sketchbook, letting it rest placidly on his lap. If Eli looked towards him, she could see the boat that he'd been sketching so determinedly just before she came over. It looked just like the boat he'd been looking at. Next to it some drawing. It looked vaguely like a wave curling around an invisible cylindrical surface. "Sometimes," He said. "It's very pretty. Kinda calming too."

Cardamon stared at the horizon and the setting sun, every now and again flicking his eyes over to the pretty girl sitting next to him. He tried not to blush, telling himself that even though she was so cute and so nice and so very tolerant of his weird appearance, someone like her had to have been in a relationship with someone. He tried to turn himself away from her. Curse him.

He looked down at his sketchbook. "Oh, a few years. I've been drawing since I was young so..."

Taking his pencil, he drew small connecting circles in the corner. "Although, right now I'm a sculptor and not, like, a painter or anything."

He ran a hand through his hair. "What about you?"

Realizing that his question probably needed a little clarification, he quickly added: "I mean, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

Cardamon hummed and nodded. He personally tended to like people. The only problem was that he tended to get too attached to people way too quickly. Not to mention that being a large group of people tended to mean that he was welcoming and number of dangerous situations. All someone had to do was hit him on the back too hard and send him careening to the ground for shit to go really bad.

Like, really, really bad.

"Yeah, I don't..." he tugged the string of his hoodie. "I don't really... ya know.... hang out a ton."

He regretted admitting that almost immediately. Now she would definitely think he was lame and weird and they would never be friends. The mild panic was evident on his face. "N-not because I never get invited to things! Just because... I uh... glass and... drunk people.... or parties.... bad time."

"I'd protect you."

Cardamon couldn't really feel warmth, but the intensity of the pink that tinted his glass skin was enough to make him feel the sensation of being warm. It felt like he was made of jelly and not glass from her sweet words. He felt strange, actually strange, as his feelings curled and roiled in his stomach. He shifted in a little as he sat.

Of course, he tried to open his mouth and make a comment, but when he tried to say words nothing came out. Oh god. Ohhhh god. "Th-thank you."

Did his voice just crack? Oh god it did. Oh god his voice just cracked in front of someone who was actually really cool and pretty and--

Oh god kill him.

Shatter him into little pieces and throw them into the ocean.

He pulled up his hood and pulled the strings hard, hiding his whole face, except the tip of his nose.

He was quiet as he heard her name. Eliana. Damn it even her name was pretty.

"I'm... I'm Cardamon van Oranje-Nassau." His voice slipped easily into his old dutch accent as he said his last name. "But, just Cardamon is fine."

Cardamon was trapped in his thoughts. He kept thinking of how he'd screwed up talking to the nicest person he'd met in a while. He'd come off like a weird sheltered kid or something. It felt like he'd mis-stepped and that sensation drenched him. It felt like he was just making a joke out of himself to this amazing girl. It was the danger of being an Emotionlord. If he felt something he felt it strongly. So strongly that it clotted his senses so he couldn't see the world around him.

When he felt her hand on his head, he turned to look at her. It was hard to make out his features under the darkness of his hood, but his eyes seemed to glow with a light of their own.

As she spoke, he found himself shivering a little so the sweet lightness of her words.

"W-well, because.... I'm just.... making a fool of myself." He mumbled lightly. "You seem pretty cool and I'm just like..." He relaxed his hands and the hood loosened. "Iunno. I was always more like a loser."