-- NEVER FORGET THE LITTLE THINGS [Samson]

[LARK MARIE HARPER]

Silence. That was the sound that met Lark’s ears as she walked through the Hollow, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets with a very lax slump in her shoulders. The cement was obviously quite interesting, as the girl took to staring at the cracks and bumps every step of the way. She felt miserable and cold, the winter weather not to blame for either. This is a truly fucked up Christmas. Only two days before, Lark received the news that her parents were divorcing; Paula was cheating on her father, leaving him no choice but to cut ties with the woman he assumed to be his loyal and loving wife. Instead of accepting things for what they were and finding her own way, Paula tried to drag Lark down with her. She wanted to take her daughter to Hawaii and start a new life, assuming that both parties were equally eager about the prospect of a fresh beginning. Lark had thought about leaving the Hollow eventually and starting out on her own way, but her friends came first. School came second. They were the most important things in her life, and there was no way in hell she was going to have that sad excuse for a woman pull her away from that for her own selfish desires. No way.

Paula gave her three days. Lark took off to Joshua’s house to get advice and act like a complete and total fool in front of him—she was sure Josh now thought she was insane—to find a way out of this. Upon gaining the idea from her good friend, the school agreed to fight for her to remain in the Hollow but they were quickly running out of time. The morning after next Lark would be on a plane to Hawaii with a very slim chance of returning. Her mother would win. When Lark awoke on Christmas morning she met an empty house. Her dark eyes scanned the living room for any signs of life, but nothing stirred. The tree was still lit but it was barren of any presents. She assumed her dad took off to spend time elsewhere. Probably at Dean’s to drown himself in alcohol. Lark was no longer part of the picture. Even if she were to stay, living with her dad would only result in being more miserable and angry than she was already. She understood how he must feel, but to ignore your only child was beyond selfish. He needed to man up and do what he needed to do. Unfortunately he was nothing like that, so Lark’s advice fell on deaf ears. It always did.

She scuffed her shoes across the pavement to release some of the frustration she felt; it was better than hauling off and hitting a pedestrian just to feel better. That could lead to repercussions she did not need added to the shit already piling up on top of her. As the girl wandered by a window, trying to focus, she took to peering inside. It was the converse shoes. Lark had been pining over them for quite some time, but never went out of the way to buy much for herself. Because of the divorce Paula decided to lay on the luxuries with money, but Lark did not want her whore cash. She wanted to stay here at school with her friends. They were what mattered. They were the only family she had left. Sighing, Lark trudged forward and sniffed. It took her a moment to realize where the sidewalk led until she looked up. Lark could not help but smile. Sam. The smile slowly faded as the girl realized that it was Christmas day; surely they would be celebrating their holiday the way they intended, and did not need the likes of her lingering around the shop like some sort of pest.

The last thing Lark wanted to be was to be a burden to the only people left in her life that made any fucking sense. Swallowing, her feet led her to the door. If not for a visit, then maybe just to give Samson his Christmas gift. That was a good reason to disrupt their time, even if for just a moment. Lark forgot that she had not even told Sam about her leaving to Hawaii with Paula; she wondered if it was even worth talking about now. Maybe the school already had the issue sorted out and there would be nothing to worry about? Lark scoffed. That was wishful thinking. I’m gonna just give him his gift and go… Swallowing the last amount of pride she had left, Lark approached the door and rested her knuckles on the wood. It was cold but temporary as she finally lifted her hand and knocked, the sound louder than she anticipated. Slowly but surely Lark felt herself slipping into a persona that was far beyond anything she could control. One could only hope the girl would go back to normal after the ordeal was over, but who knew? For now, all Lark understood was that the old Lark was slowly slipping into the background. It scared her. I want to be me again. I want to be me again. She wondered if she chanted it long enough it would actually happen. Only time would tell.

[samson]

Samson never really understood why Beatrice celebrated Christmas. She had her own idea of religion and the such, but ever since he met her, she had taken to decorating the shop and putting up a Christmas tree and pretending that a fat man somehow entered the chimney-less place to put present beneath it. ”Tradition,” she had always told him. He could remember Christmas with his parents a little, just small things that they used to do together. Ice-skating, decorating the tree, all the usual traditions that Beatrice spoke of. The woman was surprisingly conventional when it came to the holiday. Well, mostly. She was busy threading popcorn as he pulled out ornaments to hang on the tree in the shop. They had to push aside some things, but they always managed. It made the place feel quite homey, actually, the pine tree among class cases and antiques that were courtesy of Sam’s collector habits.

”Aunt Harriet ran over her mailbox,” Beatrice told him, the woman twelfth in a list of ‘catching up with relatives’. ”Uncle Charlie has been trying to fix it for three days now.” He went about his business, listening all the same. This was his family she was speaking of, not her own. He didn’t know much about the Lefebvrefamily—Beatrice had called them a bunch of weirdos, and he figured by that she meant they were relatively normal. He often wondered about her upbringing, but she never really talked about it and he didn’t know why. Samson didn’t think anything particularly bad happened with her and her parents, but he was curious about where they’d gotten to. Beatrice kept in touch with his family—which she said she considered her own—and yet her barely heard anything about her own family. He didn’t really press her or anything, he just listened to her as she listed off all the people she’d called, because he—of course—couldn’t really speak to relatives. They had a distant relationship, so he didn’t really know about the people in his family.

”...And I met this really nice man.” He only caught onto the end of the sentence, but he immediately dropped the ball in his hand and it shattered against the hardwood floor as he looked at her with a blank expression. From her position behind the counter, thread in her hands, she looked down at the mess. ”Now why did you do that?” she said with an irritated huff. He blinked at her, not even moving to get the broom. She scrunched her eyebrows together, her gaze indignant like a child. ”What is that look for, Sammy? Is it really so shocking that I’ve actually had a date?” A date. She’d went on a date. When was this? When did she ever leave the shop. Who was this guy, anyway? Samson was going through so many emotions, he couldn’t keep track of them, and after a moment longer in the staring contest, Beatrice shrugged and returned to her threading. He stod there looking around as if his location had suddenly changed before going to retrieve the broom from the closet.

She met a man. Beatrice met a man. For as long as he’d known her, she’d never went out with a guy. She said that she was too old, couldn’t be bothered, and yet here she was going on dates! He was in the middle of sweeping up the remnants of the shattered ball when he heard the knock. Christmas day? Whose in need of charms on Christmas? The thought was sadistic as he dropped the broom and headed over. Luckily, Beatrice had allowed him to dress normally for this day, even though she was wearing a red dress with antlers. “Store is closed, Sammy, you know that!” she called out, but Sam opened the door anyway. He blinked when he saw a familiar brunette girl there, lifting his eyebrows to show that shock, and waited for her to explain her presence (not that it was at all unwelcome). He stepped to the side to let her enter if she wanted, and heard Beatrice ask, ”Who is it, Sammy?”

[LARK MARIE HARPER]

Lark stared at the door for a few moments, scrutinizing the tiny details to try and keep her focus. The flight mode instinctively flared up in her chest; it was important to at least exchange a ‘Merry Christmas’ or a ‘Hello’ with one of her good friends, but then again the day came into consideration. It was Christmas Day. Samson was surely spending time with Beatrice—maybe even Jolene—this year and she would be damned if she screwed it over just by showing up at the door. Lark felt her fingers twitch. Just as the brunette took a step back to leave, a familiar voice sounded from behind the door. It was Beatrice, surely, being as Samson could not talk, nor was he female. No shit, Lark scowled at herself, trying to listen in to what was being said. She knew all too well that the store was closed, but where else would the duo go for the holidays? Suddenly Lark felt very unwelcome, but just as she turned to leave the sound of the door opening reached her ears. Turning her head she came face to face with Sam, and instantly she smiled. Even though Lark felt tormented and torn on the inside there was no way she was interested in revealing that to her friend on a holiday. It was meant to be happy, and she would leave it as such. “Hey, Sam.” Her voice was quiet as she watched him step back, leaving the doorway open for her to step through. Lark raised an eyebrow; was she invited inside?

Beatrice questioned who was at the door, and so Lark took the initiative to make her presence known without Samson having to do so. After all, she had a voice. It made sense. “It’s Lark,” The girl called out as she forced herself to turn and enter the store. As Lark passed Sam, her gaze drifted up at him and smiled softly, patting his arm before hitting the warm air of the room. After walking about in the snow most of the morning any sort of heat was more than welcome to the poor girl. If I were only a fire graduate, Lark thought dimly. Joshua had the capability of manipulating heat, thus keeping himself nice and cozy even on the chilliest of days. Unfortunately for Lark she had a few more years of freezing her ass off before that happened. You mean if it happens. The dark realization continued to smack her in the face every time she thought about school; Lark only had Christmas Day and the day following before being shipped out to Hawaii with her whore of a mother. Knowing that these two did not need to be burdened with her troubles, Lark continued to keep her eyes warm and smile as genuine as possible. It was harder than she thought. “I just…wanted to come by and wish you a Merry Christmas.” Lark chirped, rising up on her tiptoes in false excitement before reaching into her pocket and pulling out an envelope. It was rather badly wrinkled from being stuffed into such a small space, but Lark was not one to impress people with fancy bows and shiny wrapping. A gift was a gift, no matter how it was wrapped…or if it was wrapped at all. Even if the recipient cared it was of no bother to the fire girl.

“I wanted to bring you your present. It’s not much, but…” Lark shrugged and offered him the wrinkled paper, not even thinking to finish her sentence properly. There was no need for excuses, at least not with her friends. Excuses were for people who felt the need to make others feel sorry for them, and that was the last thing she wanted today. Samson did not need to waste any time on her. Who knew if there would be much time left anyway. “I hope it’ll be of use.” Inside the crinkled envelope was seventy-five dollars—it was a lot to Lark, but after Paula lavished her with cash at the last minute the money was not much of an issue. Besides, Sam could use it to fuel his trinket collection or do something for himself. That was more important than anything she could have wanted. After a moment, Lark glanced around the store. It was well decorated for the holidays, and a warm feeling crept into her heart. It made her miss waking up as a little girl on Christmas morning, seeing the tree lit up and sporting presents that were just waiting to be opened. The entire morning was dedicated to family time, and included a big breakfast that Lark could hardly ever finish. It was always perfect. Now, there she stood in Sam’s doorway, wondering if things in her life were ever meant to last. It made her heart clench up in pain knowing that she may not see Samson again. Or Josh, or Jack. It was killing her. Her eyes became glazed over and distant before Lark dismissed it with a sniffle and tried to smile again. It faltered. “The store looks good Beatrice,” She commented sweetly as her eyes drifted once around the room. “You definitely know how to celebrate it right.”

Heaving a sigh, the brunette stopped distracting herself with the array of knick-knacks and colorful decorations before looking at her friend. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” She choked out, adjusting the string on her hoodie with a faint but sad smile. “I should…probably let you get back to it, then.” Everything was becoming harder and harder to deal with, no matter how many times Lark tried to suppress them and lock it away forever. Part of her wanted to stay and spend time with Sam for a while before the inevitable happened, but the other part told her to stop being so damn selfish and let people go on with their lives. He did not need to share her burden; leaving it with Josh was hard enough.

[samson]

Before Samson could take out his phone to text or anything of the sort, Beatrice was speaking in her usual jovial tones and he leaned against the doorframe as he listened. ”Oh, Miss Lark, how are you deary?” Even though she wasn’t family, to anyone she almost sounded like that over-excited aunt that you only saw once a year at major events. Of course, the woman was very much sincere as she approached the girl—apparently having abandoned her threading—and kissed her on each cheek, hands on her arms. Samson’s lips twitched into an amused smirk. His attention was drawn away from the woman with Lark’s words, lifting an eyebrow in an expression that he was sure Lark would understand. They knew each other pretty well, so he would like her to know that he could sense that something was off. Of course, he was probably wrong, but shouldn’t she be with her family on Christmas? Not that he didn’t mind her stopping by to visit. It was Beatrice who spoke once again, and she said, ”What, no carolling? I don’t think that’s acceptable!” Of course she was only joking, as shown by the smile easing onto her bright red lips.

He shook his head when he took the envelope from Lark, and held it out of Beatrice’s reach when she tried to snatch it away. ”So disobedient, Sammy,” she said with a firm whack on the back of his head. As he busied himself with trying to soothe the small pain by running the back of his head, Beatrice said, ”He appreaciates it. You know I hate putting words into his mouth, but it’s kind of a necessity…” Too most, this may have seemed rather offensive, like cracking a racial slur. He didn’t care about Beatrice poking fun at his disability, because they understood each other more than anything and he knew that she meant nothing by it at all. If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have the rather trollish voicemail on his phone. Samson held up the envelope, waving it as if to ask if it was all right to open it now. Beatrice went on, ignoring the silent conversation her son was having with his friend to say, ”We haven’t been too good with presents this year, but I’m sure there’s something I can interest you in. On the house, of course.” They didn’t do the whole exchanging presents thing, really, since it wasn’t the school year and Samson couldn’t do it. That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate his friends, just that timing was inconvenient. He wondered if there really was anything Lark would be interested in, since there was mainly just pendants and charms and potions that he didn’t have the heart to tell Beatrice didn’t work.

Samson was definitely in on the clues that Lark seemed to be giving off, but he kept it to himself now. Not that he could really give much of a hint other than through text, but that was a moot point. ”Oh, why thank you, love,” she said exuberantly, as she threw a garland around Samson’s shoulders, a silent reminder that he was supposed to be decorating the tree. He ignored her as she continued to speak, telling Lark with bright eyes, ”It’s nothing much. I’m rather fond of quaint holidays, you know? I am making a small dinner, of course.” His stomach instantly rejected the idea. Beatrice’s cooking was impossible to stomach, and sometimes he wished he had a dog just so that he could put whatever the woman gave to him in the animal’s bowl. However, they’d never really owned pets save for a cat Bea used to have that apparently became possessed. It had passed away in the crawlspace beneath the stairs, and since then Samson didn’t really want to get another one. That had been creepy enough.

Lark seemed ready to leave, and Beatrice immediately objected to that. Sam sent an apologetic look to his friend. ”No no no, don’t leave!” the woman cried out, waving her arms. ”Sammy was just boring me, I need the company.” He gave her a disbelieving look, because this was his friend after all. She returned the look before regarding Lark again and saying, ”How about I make us some hot chocolate while I check on the turkey?” He watched as Beatrice disappeared into a back room where the small kitchen was, before quickly taking out his phone for a text. ”Do not eat her food, it will kill you.” After getting that warning out of the way, he wrote out, ”Why aren’t you with your family?” Realizing that since this was spoke through text that she could take it the wrong way, he amended, ”Not that Bea or I mind. She’d die of happiness if you stayed, and I’d kind of like it too.” He smiled to show the ‘kind of’ part was more joking than anything. He would really like it. Samson didn’t really have family to spend the holidays with—most lived in Newfoundland—so friends were a pretty damn good deal.

[LARK MARIE HARPER]

Beatrice’s cheerful voice and disposition always managed to put Lark at ease, even when her mind was full to bursting. She smiled at the woman softly; the unwelcome feeling slowly dissipated into the well decorated room. “I’m doing fine, Beatrice. It looks like you’re doing well--” She froze up at the woman’s actions; it was rare to receive any type of physical affection from anyone, let alone someone she did not see on a daily basis. Slowly the girl relaxed and allowed it to happen. Although Lark had few mannerisms to speak of when it came to her friends and acquaintances—she was rather rough around the edges and never thought much about being polite or considerate—when it came to someone like Beatrice, an important person in her friend’s life, it was almost automatic to be cordial. Joshua’s parents and sister would receive the same kindness, as would Jack’s. Thus, when Sam’s guardian poked fun about Lark not bringing about the Christmas caroling, she merely chuckled and shrugged it off. If it had been anyone else they might have been glared at and possibly had a snide remark tossed in their face. Even though Lark was struggling with an inward battle, she was not one to intentionally reveal her true emotions to others. “Oh, you don’t want to hear me sing. It’s absolutely awful.” She threw a hand past her face to dismiss herself and any possible argument.

Lark found it amusing to watch the two interact with one another; silently the girl wished that her family would go back to the time where the physical contact was playful and harmless, and the words were not hurtful and full of spite. She was happy to see Sam in a good place, because he deserved it. Off in thought, Lark began to frown, which she often did when focused. People always assumed her to be angry or frustrated when in reality she was fine. This time she was not fine, but at least it was easy to blow off if someone questioned her. Lark turned her attention towards Beatrice, nodding slightly with a faint smile. If anyone else had hit Sam, all hell would break loose. No one touched her friends. “I figured he did,” She replied sweetly, glancing at her friend with an amused smirk on her face. Unknown to Beatrice, Lark was fairly adept at reading Sam’s cues without needing a word between them. It made her feel like she was not completely ignorant of people’s emotions and the world around her. Then again, maybe it was because he was a friend. An acquaintance or stranger would not get the benefit of her attention. Samson proceeded to wave the paper in the air after Beatrice smacked him on the back of the head as though asking permission to open it. Lark’s smile dimmed slightly, though still present as she consented to the boy opening his present. “You definitely have more use for it than I do.”

Being as Lark always took care of her friends without expecting something in return; it stunned her to hear Beatrice offer a gift. Quickly she shook her head and tried to deter the woman from giving her anything. “No no, it’s okay…I mean, I appreciate it but don’t feel you have to give me something in return. Sam’s friendship is a gift in and of itself.” She felt her eyes sting with emotion—this was the second time she began to feel out of control with how she was feeling. It was getting ever harder to keep a stoic expression on her face, but Lark could not allow for much else. This was Christmas Day. It was supposed to be happy. With a quivering sigh, Lark placed herself back into a place of neutrality and took to focusing on her friend and his ever doting guardian. After a moment the brunette inhaled the scents wafting throughout the room; hunger caused her stomach to rumble ever so slightly, and upon instinct she placed a hand over her abdomen as though trying to subdue it. Yeah, cause that’s gonna work. Lark smiled again as she dropped her arm. “I can tell.” She looked at the room again, wishing that it was her own home that brought about this warm feeling. “And it smells delicious. I hope you two enjoy it.” In that way, the girl put herself at arm’s length and allowed for an easy exit without making the situation awkward or upsetting anyone. It was not that she wanted to leave; more that she would much rather see them spend family time without an unexpected guest with little to no reason to interrupt.

That being said, it shocked her to hear Beatrice insist on her staying with them. She made quite the excuse; Sam surely was not that boring, at least not boring enough to be quick in welcoming Lark into their home for the holiday. Their glances between one another made her feel rather uncomfortable, but did not say anything on the matter. “If you are sure. I’m not always the best of company…but I would not mind spending time.” Although there was a warm glow in her eyes, Lark felt she spoke the truth. After dealing with Paula and Frank over the past few years up until a few days ago, she constantly felt out of place and not worth keeping around for more than five seconds. Samson was one of the few that put up with her for extended periods of time. It made her incredibly appreciative, even though she never stated it out loud. At Beatrice’s mentioning of hot chocolate, Lark’s smile reappeared in a more genuine manner. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” She spoke to the woman’s retreating back, but turned to look at Samson to thank him as well. Reading his text, she wrinkled her nose and chuckled a bit. “She invited me to stay…the least I can do is eat what she’s making. Besides, I might like it,” Lark whispered, shrugging, not all too worried about the food. She had a tough stomach and it took quite a bit to bother her, so it was of no concern.

The next text following, however, caused her to go silent. Her expression hardened for a moment before releasing a sigh. Lark was a silent creature, and a defensive one at that. She did not willingly toss information about her life to other people, even her friends no matter how much she wanted to sometimes. Holding in your emotions only led to more anger and more instability, but that was what she preferred. It was safer that way. Better to be angry than weak and vulnerable around others. But this is Sam…just like Josh, he needs to know… Lark lectured herself. It took her a moment to finally lock onto his gaze, hands shoved in her pockets to keep under control. “Because I don’t have much of a family anymore, Sam. My parents are divorcing. I just didn’t feel like being at home with that today.” The brunette swallowed hard, feeling an emotional lump steadily building up in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she was leaving, but the news of their divorce was hard enough. I’ll tell him soon. It took a lot to tell him; by then, most of her emotional energy was faint and barely pulsing. There was not much point in being angry about the situation now, being as that would do absolutely nothing to change the inevitable. Either she would stay, or she would not. Simple as that. However, the girl felt incredibly guilty; the day was supposed to be bright and cheerful, but instead she fucked it over by actually talking about herself for once. She smiled at Sam sadly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I would too.” Chuckling she took the garland from around Sam’s shoulders, running her fingers over it thoughtfully to refocus the attention on them. That was most important. “So let me at least make myself useful and repay Bea for her kindness. And for yours. Just tell me if there’s something I can do.” Her heart felt at ease now that she was in the presence of a good friend and a kind hearted woman that accepted her with open arms. Lark’s lower lip quivered faintly but she shoved it back with a sharp intake of breath. I wish this would stop. I want to be me again…even if the old me was a cold hearted bitch. Although the girl was a lot less friendly, her emotions were not on a constant rampage. At least the tears were not always ready to flow at a moment’s notice.

[samson]

It was clear Beatrice enjoyed the other girl’s company, despite what Lark thought. Perhaps it was her being a Water elemental and a generally flighty, sociable person. Beatrice liked everyone, except when she didn’t. And when she didn’t, well…she was very difficult to deal with. He rolled his eyes when Lark ribbed him, while Beatrice cackled with glee. She’s a witch, I fucking swear it. She would probably very much like to be, but as far as he knew, she was just an eccentric bat who owned an occult shop. ”We’ll open it later, it’s only polite.” When Sam focused on his friend, the woman finally managed to take the envelope from him and put it on the counter. “Thanks,” he mouthed, something he commonly did when his responses were simple. It was annoying taking out his phone all the time, no matter how used to it he was. At least he’d stepped into the 21th century with the cellphone—he used to rely on his notepad.

Beatrice waved her hand at Lark’s objection, scoffing when she mentioned Samson’s friendship being enough. ”Oh please, he’s a royal pain, don’t flatter,” she claimed, and Samson steered his eyes up and nodded as if considering this. ”But since you can handle him, you deserve something.” The woman liked pretending that he was a handful, even though she knew herself that he could be easily mistaken for wallpaper. Or background noise. Or anything else relatively unnoticeable when you enter a room. He basically minded his own business, stayed out of everyone’s way. He didn’t have big dreams of becoming popular, or getting more friends—he was content the way he was. Beatrice took a box out from beneath the counter like she was a jewelry salesman, and Samson smirked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. ”Now, we have medallions, good luck charms, shrunken heads…” Beatrice winked at the last part. How do I live with her again? His tolerance was surprisingly strong for the woman, probably because he loved her like a real mother. The Fire girl complemented Beatrice’s cooking, which caused him to stare blankly at her before shaking his head. As usual, Beatrice ignored his looks even though she was well aware, and said, ”Such a lovely girl. Sammy has good friends, yes he does.” “Sammy’s” dry look to the woman said ‘thanks so much’, but as usual he was not offended. Never offended.

Beatrice truly was bored by Sam—if she was anything, it was honest. If she was upset with him or anything of the sort, she made it known, very loudly and with a few whacks in the head to make sure he understood. ”Of course I’m sure!” Speaking of her loudness, she made her enthusiasm nown to the girl. Samson had to wonder where she found the energy, and considered crank. Whatever it was, she never seemed to slow down, especially in her speech. Beatrice clapped her hands excitedly as she walked away, saying to herself, ”Oh goody, this is so wonderful!” She sounded incredibly emotional, as if the very thought of having Lark stay for dinner was like having the Prime Minister use her bathroom. He texted another line of words to Lark, more warning. ”I can’t promise that you won’t get food poisoning. I’m ordering out, anyway.” To prove his point, he went behind the counter and took out a stack of menus from one of the mahogany drawers. He held up a menu for Chinese, which was the best bet during Christmastime. “Dinner,” he mouthed, lifting his eyebrows. There was no way he would eat the woman’s cooking, and she often questioned him about anorexia. He still didn’t have the heart to tell her why.

The news wasn’t something he’d exactly been expecting. Well, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting, because he couldn’t come up with a list of good reasons why the girl was suddenly at his doorstep. Again, it didn’t bother him, but it was a curious thing. Divorce, he thought with melancholy. Who gets a divorce during the holidays? It was a shame, really, having celebrations spoiled, but he wasn’t about to dig for information about the divorce. Samson wasn’t good with words, that much could be assumed about him. So, he patted Lark’s arm firmly—always strong, he tried to be—and didn’t press the issue. Lark wasn’t like him, he knew that. He was fine with discussing pretty much everything. Well, that is if you could pry his shell open. He was silent, he was that dark, shady kid who minded his own business in the back of the classroom. However, when it came to his friends, he did good. Especially when a friend was going through a divorce. True, it was her parents doing the divorcing, but that didn’t mean it had no effect on the children. He’d never been through a divorce, he didn’t know what it was like, and he didn’t want to imagine how it felt. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask his friend. Were they making her choose which parent she wanted to stay with? And could she choose? They allowed that, right? Again, his lack of knowledge regarding divorce was getting in the way. Even still, he wanted to be there for his friend. He wasn’t going to make her feel bad about crashing his Christmas. Lark talked about make herself useful, and he jabbed his finger in the direction of the tree before heading back to continue hanging balls on it. Hopefully she’d appreaciate the tradition, and feel more at home. Because this place could be home to any of his friends who let it be.

When Beatrice emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands off on her dress, she had a phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. ”Oh, I’m swooning!” she said, and even though she was sarcastic, Samson could tell who she was talking to. His eyes narrowed. ”I’ll let you get back to your dinner. No, hang up now! I’m not hanging up first, you oaf!” He rolled his eyes and gave Lark a look. Could she get any more cliché? To explain, Samson dropped a ball back into one of the boxes and texted to her, ”Bea’s seeing someone. I haven’t met him yet.” It wasn’t as big of news as a divorce, but it didn’t sit well with him. Especially since he was protective over her, and he would very much like to see who this guy was so he could get a good feel for him. Or punch him if he didn’t think this man was right for Beatrice. She finally hung up, and gave a long sigh, and he shook his head. ”Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” she told them, before pulling at her hair and huming, acting like an infatuated schoolgirl. ”Is there anything specific you’d like me to make you, Lark?” Apparently, said girl would be fine with the woman’s cooking, and Samson would be in admiration if she could stomach it.

[LARK MARIE HARPER]

Lark nodded and acquiesced to Beatrice’s request on opening his envelope later; she was not a formal person and did not fully understand the reasoning behind it, but this was her home and if she wished for him to wait then so be it. With Lark’s family their responses to getting envelopes were rather excited and impolite—at least, when it was just with family. Lark learned a while ago that every family had their own way of functioning (or malfunctioning, as she would like to call it) and it was best to respect it instead of wrinkling her nose and acting like it was out of the ordinary. “That’s fine, of course.” Lark glanced at Sam, smiling and shrugging to let him know that it would not have bothered her to have him open it. In fact, she preferred it that way because who knew if she would even be around to see him do so. She half frowned, knowing that her impending doom was soon to be upon her. Samson could always call and let her know he opened it, but that did not really do much. At least, for her.

It was strange to receive gifts from people simply because you offered them one first. Lark was not the type of person that gave to receive; she gave because she felt like it and had no expectations of a present in return. That was not how she functioned, although not everyone understood this. Hell, not many people understood her in the first place. I should probably work on that. She wondered if life would have been different had she opened up to people more and became more accepting of others instead of shutting down and blocking off any emotion that revealed some sort of weak point in her persona. No matter how many times she thought about being different, Lark knew there was no way to change who she was. For one, it meant that she was conforming to what other’s would have wanted, and that was never going to happen—if it did, hell would probably freeze over. For two, being who she was made her unique. Sure she was greatly lacking in friends but maybe it was better than dealing with all of the drama that came with having more than a select few loyal people in your life. It was safer, and the possibility of being harmed in the crossfire of arguments or broken friendships was practically zero. Lark watched as Beatrice waved her off and dismissed Sam’s friendship; again, if she had been anyone else her response may have been less than friendly. Luckily Sam seemed to agree with her which took the off the slight edge she felt. Lark smiled and made the moment easier on herself by nudging Samson, smirking.

“I guess he can be at times,” Lark teased with a glow in her eyes. Sam was far from a pain in her ass; in fact, if he ever did bother her or piss her off the girl could not seem to remember it. Even though she had a nasty temper she did strive to forgive and forget confrontations or disagreements with friends. The brunette had few to begin with—better to blow it off than lose someone she held dear. “But…if you really insist.” There really did not seem any point in arguing with the woman, so Lark shrugged and followed her towards the counter where she pulled out a box and began sorting through the items lying within. She refrained from sticking up her nose at the shrunken heads comment—that would have been rude and inhospitable to someone who just allowed her into their home on Christmas. It still bothered her that she was here taking up their time. Lark finally became rather curious and leaned over the counter, looking at the contents of the box. She sighed and pulled back again, keeping a small smile on her face. “You know, a good luck charm sounds fantastic. I could really use it.” With all that was going on at home, and with the possibility of moving away from everything she knew, maybe having something to hold on to would help her cope. It was like having a stuffed animal that you took to bed with you every night to help ward off the monsters in the closet. The monsters never existed, but her mother sure as hell did. Lark never anticipated comparing her mother to a monster, but it was slowly happening. Surprisingly Beatrice complemented the girl on being ‘lovely’. She passed a look at Sam that said ‘she obviously doesn’t know me’ before turning back towards the counter.

Beatrice was indeed a rather loud woman; being as she was a recluse, Lark did not often run across people who were so enthusiastic and boisterous. If it were not for her gentleness and odd airy personality, Lark might have stepped back and made her way to leave. She did not deal well with such energetic people, especially when she was not exactly in the mood to be energetic and happy. But it’s what I need right now. This is good for me. Being in their presence, however, was working wonders on Lark. She chuckled and made way back towards Sam as she observed the woman disappearing into the kitchen. Samson offered up another warning about the food and merely shrugged. “I’m not going to turn her down Sam. I’ll be fine. And if not…well, it was worth spending time with a friend.” Her smile widened a little bit as he flashed her a menu for Chinese food. “If that’s what you want. I can order it for you.” Lark was not going to tell him to be polite to Beatrice and eat her food; they lived together and she was sure that anything he did was not much of a surprise. Hell, even she was not exactly surprised by much of anything Sam did, and they did not even know one another half as long. Even so, she knew Sam liked to do things on his own and only offered to order the food for him if he did not feel like dealing with it himself. Lark did not readily accept help from others, and did not expect anything less of anyone else, even her friends.

Thus, when she told him of the divorce it felt as though she exposed herself far more than she anticipated. Luckily Sam knew her well enough to know that it was not something that occurred on a daily basis, and instead of texting massive amounts of condolences he simply patted her on the arm. That gesture in and of itself put her nerves back in a state of neutrality and she no longer felt obligated to go into further detail or burden him more than she already had. Lark appreciated the friends she did have, because all of them were very understanding and respected who she was. They did not expect anything different, and appeased her personality instead of forcing something unnatural. Sam quickly took her up on the offer and pointed to the Christmas tree, then proceeding to decorate it himself. “Sounds like a plan,” Lark replied aloud to his gesture, walking around towards the tree and picking up a few ornaments to place on the branches. "Thanks again for letting me join you. I really do appreciate it. I can't think of a better way to spend my Christmas." It makes me miss old tradition though… Lark quickly reminisced about her younger years when the family would spend the day after Thanksgiving putting up decorations. The Christmas music sounded from the radio on the table as they set up their fresh, live tree and proceeded to decorate it however they saw fit. Some years they would make a theme, and others were at random. It depended on what they felt up to doing, and it was usually a last minute decision. She missed those times. As she hung up one of the balls, a frown laced her features for a moment before hearing Beatrice from somewhere behind them. She sounded awfully chipper—more so than she did earlier before going to the kitchen—and although Lark was rather inept with people and their emotions it was not hard to tell she was chatting with someone of great interest. She raised her eyebrows and was about to motion towards the woman when Samson dropped his ornament and texted her.

“I think everything will be fine Sam,” Lark soothed with an unusually soft voice. “Everyone deserves their happiness. It seems Bea has found another source of happiness outside of you and the shop. Just…don’t go beating him up when you meet him or anything.” She eyed him warily as though attempting to see what Sam’s intentions were when he met this man. Lark wanted to find the happiness that Bea found one day; it might not be right now, or within the next few years—hell, it may never happen—but that did not mean she couldn’t wonder whether it would happen or not. I’m better off alone. It was automatic thought process that Lark trained herself on whenever she wished to find herself a significant other. Sometimes she wished it would go away, but other times she understood that it was for the best. It kept her from being one of those desperate, lonely girls that clung to every person who gave them attention. They were annoying, and she only wished for her annoyance towards others to be of the more aggressive kind. She turned her head towards Beatrice with an acknowledging smile, but shook her head at the woman’s inquiry. “No ma’am. I’ll eat whatever you’re already making.” Lark felt she weighed them down enough as it was. She did not need someone making extra food for someone that was not even meant to be there. I need to tell him I’m leaving…

[samson]

As Samson watched Lark retrieve a good luck charm, his mind flickered to Harley and he both wished—and didn’t wish—it had. She wasn’t easy to think about anymore, because he didn’t know where he stood with her. He didn’t even understand what had happened between the two, and it was a whole confusing mess. However, his mind instantly fled to the day he brought her home and Beatrice gave her the pendant and how at the dance, she’d flung it at Jolene. For protection. Damn, he didn’t know what to feel about all that, about his girlfriend, about his ex… ”Lovely choice, Miss Lark!” Beatrice chirped, moving her arms around emphatically as if he words would hold no meaning unless she added gesticulations. Samson almost considered asking the woman for advice, but knew that she would probably offer some cryptic words that he’d never understand. She liked to keep her nose out of his love life, anyway, which he very much appreciated. Sometimes he wondered how his parents would have treated it, and he figured that they would be much the same. They were distant in the way that they let him learn lessons the hard way, but they had been very loving and compassionate parents—he remembered that, even if he didn’t remember much else.

Leaning against the counter, menu in his hands. Eyebrows raised, he nodded slightly as she spoke, an incredulous look on his face. He wanted to tell her that Beatrice wouldn’t mind all that much, even though it may seem that way—she was just strange, and sometimes Sam just didn’t understand her reasoning behind certain things. When she offered to order him the food, he took out a pen from the counter, and circled what he wanted. It was almost a Christmas tradition, ordering out, and he didn’t really mind the fact that he had to do it. Over at the tree, Samson was content to silently go about decorating the tree, and blinked over at his friend when she started to speak. He smirked when she gave her thanks, and gave a silent nod. He knew that she’d probably like to spend Christmas with her own family, but he was more than glad to offer up his own to her for this holiday. His real family was back in Newfoundland and other places in Canada, so he didn’t really get to visit them. They weren’t close anyway—not that anyone hated each other, just that they haven’t gotten together for a reunion or anything recently—and there weren’t that many of them. He didn’t have a huge family, and he was cool with that. He was even cool with not have his parents. Sure, he had loved them but he didn’t remember enough of them to have any real yearning for time with them.

He gave his friend a withering look, and shook his head. He wasn’t angry with her or anything—as a matter of fact, he was facetious in his complaints—but it still worried him. Just because he didn’t like change. He was used to things as they were, and didn’t know how to react to what may be a new addition to his life. They’re not getting married or anything, he tried to soothe himself. This could be just a random dude that Beatrice is dating. But then he wondered, what if there were more men after this? What if she gets a love life and eventually gets married and then has…has children. Beatrice as a real mother? He couldn’t even imagine. He couldn’t imagine her as a wife. ”It’s just so…weird.” Samson wanted her to be happy, but Beatrice always seemed to be happy with her independence. If she met a guy she really liked, though… Ugh, this is just annoying. He of course thought of his own problems with his love life, and didn’t know if he wanted any change with Beatrice. He was being selfish, but he didn’t really care.

Just as Beatrice said, after the tree had been finished, dinner was ready and Beatrice called from the kitchen, ”Get your patooties in here!” His smile was affectionate as he shook his head, and Samson pulled out a seat for Lark in the small kitchen before taking his own. It wasn’t too big a meal, of course, even though between the two they could do damage on a meal (that wasn’t made by her). But Lark would certainly help in that. Beatrice dug right in, passing around plates on the table that held turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, and biscuits, seemingly immune to her own food, as Samson began pretending to eat the food, simply pushing it all around on his plate as he scanned his eyes around the kitchen. Everything was wooden in make, the cabinets and the walls even, save for the dishwasher. There wasn’t a lot of space, but it was large enough that three people could move around in it comfortably. ”Sammy, are you looking at ghosts again?” He brought his eyes to Beatrice, who was tilting her head. She seemed to think he was a dog, and whenever he stared at something it was because he saw a ghost. ”Anywho, Lark, I was planning to go out with Sammy tonight for a little séance. There’s an old graveyard up the road that used to belong to a church, but it was torn down a few years ago. Would you like to accompany us.” Samson’s fork scraped against his plate, and Beatrice winced at the obnoxious sound and he grimaced apologetically. He guessed that’s what he deserved for not eating it.

[LARK MARIE HARPER]

Lark passed Beatrice an amused but grateful look as she pulled out the charm; it was a silver chain that was long enough to put around her neck, while the charm itself was not exactly easy to explain. It was a twisted silver piece with a blue gem resting in the middle of it, as though it were floating amidst the warped metal. Smiling softly she hooked it around her neck and adjusted it slightly. The gem rested just below her collar bones. It was comfortable, and easy to wear. Lark was not one to prefer jewelry, but such a nice gift should be worn (on top of the fact that it carried with it an aura of good luck). I’ll wear it every day. To her, the charm was more than just a kind gesture; it reminded her of Bea and Samson, and the friendship she cherished with him. If the move to Hawaii became reality wearing the necklace would be all she had. Her loyalties to her friends were stronger than one could imagine. Hell, Samson may not even realize it himself. After admiring the gift, Lark turned her attention back towards Sam, who was busy marking on the menu with a pen. If the boy was really that eager to avoid Beatrice’s food then she felt obligated to help do just that. It was no skin off of her back whether he ate it or not, but Lark was a guest and thus the guidelines were a little different. Had it been an acquaintance or a stranger you could be sure that Samson’s warning would have been quickly heeded and Lark would have partaken in the consumption of Asian cuisine. Being as that was not the case, Sam was on his own.

“Sure thing.” Lark replied as she walked by, snatched the menu out from under Sam’s nose, and whipped out her cell phone. Not many places were open on Christmas day, but you could be sure that the Chinese restaurant would be. They were open practically all year round. Nodding to Sam she dialed the number on the menu and wandered away for a moment, talking to someone on the other end of the line. Her face scrunched up slightly as she tried to repeat what it was that Samson wanted; obviously the recipient did not understand what she was saying. Finally, after a few minutes of bantering back and forth to get the order correct, she ended the call and came back to stand near Sam, shaking her head. “I swear to God sometimes I feel like a fucking broken record. You’d think they could understand me a bit better being as half these places have been around for ages…” It pissed her off that she had to repeat herself; Lark was not one who liked to waste time saying the same things over and over again, even with something so small as ordering Chinese. No matter, the deed was done and so she took to finishing up the tree with her friend. Had Lark been anyone else she might have taken notice of the unease that Sam felt about Beatrice taking on this ‘other man’, but unfortunately she was no one but herself. The brunette was inept with most emotions that were not outwardly stated (unless someone was yelling at her, then it was fairly obvious said person was angry), and even though Sam texted her about the situation being weird Lark shrugged and passed him a look of indifference. “Well, she’s a grown woman Sam…” It was not meant to treat Samson like he was a child or ignorant of the fact that Beatrice was indeed an adult, but it was still a fact none the less. “If she wants to date…well, I guess she has that right. Could be worse.”

She wanted to compare his problems to hers, and make Sam feel as though his problems were minor compared to what she was going through, but now was not the time. Not during the holidays. To Lark, dealing with Beatrice and her possible new interest could not be half as bad as having your parents divorce and gain the knowledge that your mother wanted nothing more than to steal you away from everything you knew against your will. Sam doesn’t know I might be leaving, Lark thought quickly. That’s right; she had not yet told her friend of the move, but could not seem to find a good time to tell him. Just as she was about to open her mouth, Beatrice called them into the kitchen. The tree was done and looked rather splendid in her opinion, so with a nod of approval she turned and made way to the table. “Thanks Sam,” Lark muttered, taking a seat. She was not very fond of having people do things for her, but the girl’s mind was occupied with other issues that felt slightly bigger than getting upset over someone pulling a chair out for her. Everything felt so small and miniscule compared to what the next couple of days held in store. With a grateful smile, Lark took her food and dug in. It was not the best food in the world but she did feel that Samson might have exaggerated a bit on Bea’s bad cooking. Either that, or her taste buds were made of solid steel and could withstand even the worst of foods. “This is delicious Beatrice. Thank you.” There was the possibility of the fact that she rarely had a home cooked meal, and this was the perfect opportunity to indulge.

Looking up from her plate, Lark heard Beatrice call Sam out on his wandering gaze. After watching them for a moment, Bea called attention to the brunette. A séance? That might be just the perfect distraction from all of the shit going on at home. Besides, Sam mentioned a while back about them possibly doing a séance one night, and being as it was the holidays there was no chance of sleeping in and missing class. Two bonuses. Lark nodded eagerly as she set her fork down and finished chewing. “That sounds epic, Bea. I would love to join you guys.” She was not exactly dressed for the occasion, but she would live. There was no way in hell Lark was going to pass up on this opportunity simply because she forgot a pair of gloves and a thicker jacket. I am not going back to my house. Going back today would not do her any good, and she knew that.

[samson]

Sam’s eyes glittered with amusement at Lark’s ranting, raising his eyebrow in one of his signature expressions to show as much. If he was bothered by tempers, he wouldn’t be friends with a lot of the Fire students, he wouldn’t have exes in there, and certainly wouldn’t be dating Jolene. He took it all in stride—Lark wasn’t very frightening to him, because she was a friend and he liked to trust his friends and believe that they wouldn’t harm him, even if they had no such limitations when it came to Chinese restaraunts. ”Thank you,” he mouthed to her, for he was truly grateful for it. There was no way on god’s green earth that he could stomach whatever Beatrice was brewing in the kitchen. He’d lived off take out, mostly pizza, ever since the woman started paying him for working in the shop. How he’d survived before then, he honestly had no idea. He chalked it up to not realizing how could pizza could taste, or his love for the woman who took him under her wing after he lost everything that mattered. Samson more or less ignored the Fire girl’s next comment. He wasn’t ignoring her, he just didn’t want to reply to it, because she seemed to be taking him a bit too seriously. Besides, he’d rather drop it. He didn’t want to think about Beatrice’s relationships—she’s in a relationship, how odd—during Christmastime. It put a considerable damper on his mood. Samson knew he shouldn’t be whining, but it was just that. He wasn’t. He wasn’t going to ask Lark to do anything for him, and he was going to compare two different problems. Everyone had issues, and they were no more important or less important than anyone else’s, especially to those dealing with them.

The tree looked nice after they were finished, and even better that it could be completed with a friend. It had been a surprise when she’d dropped by, but not an unpleasant one. The bigger surprise had to be the fact that Lark appeared to be enjoying Beatrice’s cooking. He stared at her as the woman clapped, and said, ”Oh thank you! Everything is homemade. No Stovetop or anything for us!” Samson wished it wasn’t homecooked, and even though the thought may have been cruel, it was true. Nobody said that he had to like his adoptive mother’s cooking. He appreciated everything else about her. He shrugged, waiting for the knock on the door. Beatrice knew about him ordering all this food, and since he cleared the plate (into his napkin) she assumed that he had a rather large stomach. He subtly emptied his plate and stood when he heard the napkin, leaving Beatrice to make small talk with Lark. He paid for the food, smiling and nodding, probably making the delivery guy feel awkward because of the fact that he didn’t speak. It was a new person, he was sure the woman who usually delivered would have been used to it. She must have been off for the holidays, enjoying dinner with his family. Like him. And yes, he considered Lark to be part of the family.

He went back into the kitchen and went about eating the food with ardor, listening to Beatrice speak to Lark about the séance. ”Sammy will be bringing the candles, and you don’t have to worry, nothing you need to do on your end.” She took a few bites off of her plate, chewing her food before going on. ”We’ll get some blankets and I can get you some socks so you guys won’t be freezing your piggies off. Canadian winters, always fierce. Sometimes I wish I could move to the tropic. Don’t you, Lark? Oh, but Sammy tells me your Fire, you don’t mind, do you?” He shook his head, smiling fondly. Beatrice knew how to talk up a storm, and was the complete opposite of Sam in that way. It sure helped with him, since she could hold up a conversation all her own. She checked the clock on the stove and said, ”We’ll leave in about an hour or so. Everything is mostly ready, so we’ll be good. Right, Sammy?” Said Thunder elemental nodded in ascent, using his chopsticks to dig out the lo mein from the box. He was used to this, freezing nights spent with Beatrice trying to summon spirits from the next world. It was actually pretty fun, when it didn’t make him dog tired for school the next day.