Servant of Venus (butterfly0408/Lucid_M)

Andrew noticed her rising aggravation and the eventual decadence of the technique of her strokes. His eyes grew slightly mournful and his shoulders sagged, "But you're enjoying yourself right now, right?" He gave a weak smile. Andrew hated to make anyone sad or angry, and he felt like he had accidentally struck a nerve with her. He swallowed, approaching her slowly and waiting to see if a hug or a rub of the shoulder was called for.
"Besides, its not like you still can't get it." He said in a very unconvincing tone.

"I don't know," she said in soft voice. A weak almost defeated one. "It's so complicated. It's a one in three chance. I either am free to return to the world, forever locking the the hidden temple, or must remain at the temple as a leader, a high priestess of Venus. I thought I knew which one I wanted, but being back in the world again, holding a paint brush again," she turned her face to him, "seeing you again, I don't know what I want anymore. And even if I want it. I might not be able to have it."

He sat down on the floor, running a hand through his black hair and sighing softly. Andrew adjusted his jawline thoughtfully, watching her stand there with the paintbrush in her hand and debate internally. For some reason, his mind insisted that bringing her here in the first place had been a mistake.
"Look uh..." He said as he began to place the caps on the paint, "Why don't we leave the past for a bit? Its not like its going anywhere." He forced a playful grin and approached her, "We should be learning about our present selves, not comparing to our pasts."

It was only then that he saw just how a troubled individual she was. For she looked at him with such sadness in her eyes it could break your heart, "I have just spent the last 10 years locked up in a space not much larger that three of these warehouses. I have not seen the outside world, spoke to anyone outside those walls, only had bits and pieces of news from the outside in all that time. I don't have a 'present self.' What you see before you is all I have for you."

Andrew sighed softly and wiped his face with a hand, rubbing his chin afterward and looking away from her. He had only glanced at Eden once in those moments, and her expression was so disarming, so utterly tragic that Andrew could not bear to look at it for more than a second. The Man crossed his arms tightly, as was his habit when he was troubled, "Why did you let them do this to you?" He became logical, attempting to find the words that would pull her out of this mold she had been forced into so cruelly. Andrew could easily see that she didn't belong in the straightened hair, or the meticulously athletic figure or the beautified face.

"I didn't have a choice. Every woman in my family has done it. If I didn't do it," she shuttered, "I will put it this way. The women of the order are VERY serious about it. I don't even want to think about what would have become of me if I said no. It really was not that bad. At least not while I was there, but now it just seems like a waste of my life." She looked at the brush in her hand and put it down at long last. "It made me feel like I can't function outside it's walls. Maybe I can't."

This infuriated Andrew in a very subtle manner. His eyebrows creased forwards, but the rest of his expression remained calm and appreciative. It almost made him look determined.
"I'll prove to you that you can function without them. You don't need to return or follow their silly rules, its not like they're coming to check up on you, right?" He grinned, grabbing her by the arms and beginning to pull her out of the offices in lavish, theatric movements. An attempt at cheering her up a bit.
"We'll go to Rasputin's again, or perhaps sneak into a movie." Andrew grinned, enthralled by the memories of such foolishness. Rasputin's was a ratty old bar, but the jukebox had a rather large assortment of Anthrax and Poison songs, something they both appreciated grandly. That, and no one seemed to even ask for ID.

"But..." she stopped and sighed. He had no idea what the temple was capable of. No idea that they would indeed come looking for her. If only he would complete the ritual with her, she might have a chance at life still. There was a decent chance she'd be allowed to re-enter the world and be her own person at last, but if they didn't do what she was suppose to, that would never happen for her. For them.

"I could use a drink..." she changed her words too instead. "I have not had a drink in.... GOD to long. To damn long!"

"That's the spirit!" Andrew said in a corny voice as he pulled her out of the factory, eventually letting her go as they walked the streets of the more run down part of outer New Orleans. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he glanced up at the gray sky, the thunder almost seeming like a warning of the rain that was to come. He remained in his own head for most of the trip, pondering and swimming in the psychological ramifications of this temple. It was outdated, horribly, and women had progressed far too much since those days.
Regardless, he shouldered the door to the ratty old bar aside, shocked to find that it was still open and largely unchanged since he had last been there. Sauntering over to the wooden bar, he glanced absently at the Packers game on the TV before ordering a miller and glancing back at Eden, wondering if she would drink as well.