The meeting was a formality as far as Soul could tell. Luckily he didn't have to say much. He stood and heard name after name after name. He eventually gave up trying to remember them and instead focused on figuring out what to do about the twins. His meeting with them had been productive, or rather reassuring. But now he didn't know what to do. He had to find a way to really talk to them. Sylvia was happy with him at the moment, but it would only take a whisper of disobedience to completely ruin the little bit of progress he had made.
When they left the hall Soul had only learned how deeply outnumbered they were. Even assuming all of Scott's siblings weren't on Sylvia's side there were still so many others that were. They had met nearly fifty new people that evening- people that had traveled to see her- to help her. Fighting wouldn't work. The only think that could work was hiding. Soul had to find a way to speak with the twins.
Soul stared at the wall in the scarlet room. Even after being here for so long he couldn't think of it as his room, or even really as a bedroom. It was so far from being comforting, even though he did sleep there it was always and uneasy sleep.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Scott seemed unnaturally cheerful for the situation, as he seemed a lot of the time. His moods really didn't seem logical. But with Sylvia's continued influence it made sense that Scott's emotions would be off. Though his unflagging optimism was, Soul supposed, remarkable in its own rate. He had never been a happy person and compared to Scott his childhood had been filled with sunshine and daisies.
"Have you always known the twins?" It wasn't what Soul had meant to say, but it might help him figure out when the lines had been drawn, help him figure out where they really fit into all of this. Help him figure out what the factions really were.
"Umm forever I think. I don't remember meeting them. I didn't see them much when I was really little. Just a few days here and there. I always thought they were a little creepy to tell you the truth." Soul nodded. From what he had seen from them here they really were disconcerting. He found himself thinking of them as just 'the Twins' almost as if they had completely ceased to have personalities of their own. And from what he had seen they were simply halves of the same whole. Even if they were on his side now, or on a side that wasn't Sylvia's, Soul didn't trust them completely. How could he when they had spent so much time with him before and never mentioned how much trouble he was in? And that their previous, very different, personalities were obviously a front. No one here was really as they seemed. Even Soul felt like he was changing.
The next morning after breakfast Soul found himself again sitting at the table across from Scott, Scott began drawing at once, it was another portrait of Soul, this time it was Soul in the rose garden, just slowly waking up. Soul frowned at the picture, he didn't like how vulnerable he looked, and he didn't like remembering what his life was like before, or what it could have been. What he had imagined had nothing to do with what was happening and he really didn't like the way things had turned out. He sulked staring at his blank paper. He didn't feel like drawing. He especially didn't feel like drawing anything like he had the day before. Though what had followed was the nicest thing since he had been here. He let himself drift into his memories, slowly mixing with daydreams. He was almost content for a few moments. But then Sylvia swept into the room, he could feel her energy almost before she entered, it felt frantic, anxious. Soul wondered if they were her feelings or the feelings she wanted him to feel. Soul just felt irritated. He didn't want to be in the present. He was rather enjoying his daydreams.
"Hello mother." Scott smiled beatifically at his mother and Soul was momentarily stunned. Both at the beauty he kept trying to ignore in Scott, and surprised that he could bestow such a look on his mother even knowing what her intentions were, even after she had done to him for so many years. There was a lot he didn't understand about Scott, and his relationship with his mother was one of the biggest mysteries. How he could love someone that was so obviously evil was unimaginable, and yet, somehow, Scott loved her.
"Soul, you did a fairly good job yesterday, but by this time you had begun. You will really have to hurry up or I will be very upset." She didn't acknowledge her son before she grabbed a book seemingly at random from a shelf behind him and left the room. Scott looked upset, but quickly returned to his good humor, he didn't speak but smiled down at his picture and began to hum as he continued to draw. The tune was almost familiar to Soul; he looked down at his blank paper and let the sound wrap around him. He focused again on Scott, and let the pencil move freely across the paper.
When Soul finished he could feel Scott's breath ruffling his hair, he was right behind Soul, but his hands were on the back of Soul's chair, not touching him. It was the first thing Soul noticed. In the past, in every one of their interactions Scott had taken any chance to touch Soul, and not he had a perfect reason to, a perfect position to and he wasn't taking it.
Soul turned his attention to his picture. It was the two of them again, but the picture was much darker. Soul way lying on his back, his eyes closed there were dark circled under his closed eyes. He looked like he could be sleeping- or, more likely, dead. Scott was kneeling beside him, his face wet with tears and his eyes staring. They were in this library, Soul had drawn the table in the corner of the page, and opposite of it was a bookshelf. But most of the page was blank, stark; the obvious subject was Scott's anguish. Soul shrugged. He didn't really care, why would he. Plus it didn't have to come true; who know it could be some obscure metaphor. Scott didn't really care about the picture. It wasn't a picture he wanted to look at, it wasn't one he did want to look at. Looking at it made Soul feel nothing.
"Don't worry about it. It is just a picture." Scott didn't speak at Soul's words. Soul turned to look at him and even though Scott's breath was even he was crying. Soul sighed. And stood. Scott took a step away from him and kept crying. Soul wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. It was the first time Scott had stepped away from him, had avoided his touch. Soul didn't want to overstep his bounds but he wanted Scott to stop. Soul was the one who got overwhelmed; he was the one that stepped away that needed comforting. The change in dynamics was not something Soul liked and he wanted it to stop.
Scott reached the edge of the room, nudging a bookshelf before stopping. Soul didn't want to crowd him but he did want to do something. He took Scott's hand in his; it was cool, almost clammy. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, the palm, and the fingers. Then lost again, he just looked at it. Soul had no experience with comforting people, it wasn't anything he had ever expected to do and now he just felt inadequate.
Scott's fingers were long and tapered, his nails trimmed carefully, and very short. His skin was soft on the backs, almost silky but the undersides had calluses from painting, writing, and Soul would later find out sculpting. His hands were beautiful. He was beautiful and Soul didn't want him to be sad. Soul let the hand drop, reassured when it didn't fall, but hovered for a moment, as if Scott was going to take Soul's hand again. Soul almost wished he had.
