Chapter Text
Helka sighed as she leaned against the apartment building's wall. He boyfriend was late again. It was starting to get on her nerves, to be honest. Actually, it had already gotten on her nerves a while ago. He wasn't even just a few minutes late, but half-an-hour. This was normal for him. He never even had a good excuse or even a valid one, she'd understand if it was because of his job or a family crisis or even a friend crisis. But no, his excuses were always the same: ”I forgot”. This had been his last chance in her eyes. She hadn't told him that, though, she wanted to be a little cruel after the effort she put into the dates. George liked it when she dressed up and put on make-up, said it made her look like a ”proper woman”, she even wore high-heels for him. Don't get her wrong, heels were fine as long as you could run in them, but those heels that you would use to either stab or clobber someone to death were just stupid, and yet she wore them for him.
She looked at her watch and sighed miserably, taking off the tortuous heeled shoes, just as her boyfriend exited the complex. She looked at him with tired eyes. Perhaps it was her fault too, she seemed to fall for the wrong sort all the time.
“Sorry, I-” he started but was cut off by his soon-to-be ex.
“Forgot, again, yeah.” Helka sighed sadly “Look... I can't do this anymore, George.” she said miserably.
“What do you mean?” George asked.
“I've lost count on all the times you've been late, you don't answer your phone and I can count the times you've been on time on one hand... I give up. I don't think we should see each other anymore, go back to your games since they matter more than I do.”
“What about you! You're always caught up in your 'art'.”
“That was one time, I don't even mention my music or painting anymore, you, on the other hand, can't shut up about your damn games. I get having fun but you're addicted. I can't- I just can't-” she sighed again, her brown, copper-tinged hair falling in front of her face “Goodbye, I hope you find someone someday.” she said, walking past him and waving at him, the black heels in her other hand and her black purse slung over her shoulder.
The fact that George didn't even yell after her to take him back, or yell at all, hurt her more than it should have. But it told her just how much he actually cared. If he felt something stronger for her he would fight for her even if she was his only opponent. She laughed bitterly at herself, looking up to the darkening Manhattan sky. Maybe she should've stayed in her country. But then again, she'd had nothing going on for her there either, with her family gone.
She gripped her dark-blue button-up as her skirt in the same shade fluttered in the wind. She and her sister had been raised by their dad, they had no idea where their mother was and their dad never spoke of her. Their father died of lung cancer, he was a smoker so it was expected, it didn't mean it was any easier to see him go. Her sister had drunk herself to the next world. Their father had been an only child and his parents had already died before him, so there really was no one in the country for her. She did miss the forests though, since Finland was full of them, so full you couldn't walk too far in any direction without seeing some trees, even in the capital.
A very surprising sight greeted her when she walked past one of the cheaper apartment complexes. It was coal-black and charred, meaning it had been burning at some point. There were people, more than just the residents, standing outside gawking at it. She stopped to look too and made a face at it. She guessed she didn't have it that bad in comparison. She at least had a roof over her head at the moment.
There was the sound of a briefcase hitting the concrete. Helka looked behind her to see a blond man with blue eyes, grey-rimmed glasses, wearing a dark blue business suit and red tie standing there with an unreadable expression.
“You lived here then?” she asked in sympathy.
“Yes...” the man answered with a weary sigh.
Looking closer, Helka thought he looked tired and wondered if she should go through with what she'd come up with. After a few seconds of pondering she huffed at herself for being stupid, if she ended up dead, raped or robbed she'd only have herself to blame.
“I don't normally do this, but if you have nowhere you can crash then I will lend my couch to you for the night or however long it takes for you to get a new place.” she offered.
The man blinked “Are you sure? I wouldn't want to burden you, miss.” he said politely, making her smile tiredly.
“Just don't eat my food after the first morning.” she joked, making his lip quirk, not knowing how rare the sight was, she plowed on “And my name is Helka Holm.” she introduced herself after turning around and sticking out a hand.
The man took it and shook it “Owen Burnett.”
She smiled and picked up his briefcase and held it slung over her back, her wrist resting on her shoulder “C'mon Owen, my place is just around the corner.” she said and started walking, giving him no choice but to follow her.
Behind her, Owen smiled bemusedly, while Puck thought She's certainly interesting. Though I do wonder why she's walking barefoot. He mused as he eyed the heels in her hand, she wasn't even wearing socks.
The apartment was modest and riddled with artwork and sheets of music notes, not to mention sound equipment and instruments. It was a controlled chaos, nothing was in the way really, just strewn around. The walls were a pale green while the floor appeared to be wooden. There was also a balcony with a slide-glass-door, hidden by blue curtains dotted with dragonflies. From what Owen could see the only completely orderly place was the kitchen, which had black and white tiles as the floor, orange cupboards and a white ceiling, as was the whole apartment's ceiling. In the living room was a brown couch with a coffee table in front of it and a dinner table behind it, there was a TV on the wall and beside it was a bookcase containing not only books but also games, CD's and DVD's, under the TV was a TV table with a DVD player and a game-console, on either side of the table there were speakers.
The couch was one that contained a bed that could be pulled out and soon it had been, so that Owen could sleep. Helka had also fetched a pillow and blanket for him. She was also in the possession of men's pajamas. When she'd spotted his raised eyebrow she'd lobbed a pillow at him. He had no idea where she pulled it from.
“I don't use women's sleepwear, this particular pajamas belonged to my father so I'd appreciate it if you didn't somehow damage it.” she said, handing him the pale blue bundle “I'm sorry if they stink, dad was a smoker.”
“I can't really complain.” Owen said, even if the clothes did smell of cigarette smoke.
“Good to know that you have your priorities straight, good night.” Helka said with a yawn as she entered her bedroom, leaving Owen to look at the now shut door of her bedroom.
He shook his head as he changed into the pajamas She's strange, but very interesting. He thought.
When morning came, Helka woke before Owen. She walked out of her room, wearing a sleeveless blue dress. Her hair was not brushed but even then it reached all the way to her butt, which was irritating since she always ended up sitting on it, but she was too attached to her long hair to cut it, even if she'd save money because she wouldn't use so much shampoo and conditioner. Helka looked at her guest and smiled softly at the sight of his sleeping face. His face was completely lax and his mouth was slightly open, the most adorable thing was that he'd fallen asleep with his glasses on. She tiptoed over and gently took off his glasses and put them on the coffee table before she went into the kitchen to make breakfast. She almost never ate anything made in a factory, preferring to make her own everything, if at all possible. It saved her a lot of money and it showed in her health.
Half-way through her cooking Owen woke up. At first he was confused by his surroundings until he remembered that his apartment complex had gone up in flames, taking his apartment with it. He looked around the room without moving and saw his glasses on the table. Owen didn't actually need glasses, they were just part of his character. Even so, he felt exposed without them and quickly put them back on, funny, he didn't remember taking them off. The blond sat up and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, wondering what he was supposed to do. He was much too busy to go apartment-hunting and while he didn't doubt Mr. Xanatos would give him time off or less work so that he could do so, he quite liked working for the man more than he wanted to search for a new apartment. It wasn't like he actually needed an apartment, but he had to keep up appearances, people would wonder where he slept if his apartment had burned down.
Owen entered the kitchen to see what Helka was doing and watched as she multitasked with squeezing orange-juice, making pancakes, brewing coffee and tea and frying eggs and bacon. It was a sight to see but she seemed to belong in the kitchen. She was singing as she went around her workspace but Owen couldn't say he recognized the song, he didn't even recognize the language.
After a moment she noticed him and asked with a grin “Do you have any food allergies?”
Owen shook his head “No, though I would suggest not handing me anything made entirely out of iron.”
She paused at that before getting back to her cooking “I don't think I own anything made purely out of iron, but I guess you're allergic. There are all kinds of strange allergies, did you know that some people are allergic to water, water of all things, it's strange since humans are mostly made out of water. I never understood how it worked, you'd think they'd die since they're actually technically allergic to themselves-”
Owen watched her in amusement as she continued to ramble about anything and everything, he smirked slightly when she realized what she was doing and stopped while blinking in bewilderment “Sorry... I just don't like silence. Funny really, I used to crave it until two years ago, now I can't stand it.” she said softly, pressing the handle of her spatula against her chin as she turned off the stove and Owen noticed that the coffeemaker had shut itself off at the same time, looking around he saw that everything she'd been making was now done.
“You have great timing.” he pointed out.
Helka shrugged “I practically grew up in the kitchen, it would be strange if I didn't know how long making something takes.” she explained.
“If you 'grew up in the kitchen', then I would have expected you to be a chef and not... an artist.” Owen pointed out politely. He'd seen a few CD's with her name on them and since the name on the paintings faintly looked like hers he assumed she'd painted them.
“Oh, don't get me wrong. While I am a master of the culinary arts, music has been something that has not only a place in my heart, but my soul. It's the only way I can explain it to be honest. Music is a way I can express myself in a way beyond even my own comprehension. Painting and drawing is just another aspect of that, it's not as important to me as my music but a way to wind down and let out my frustrations, something I really can't do with instruments, if I did that with instruments, it would sound like a dying cat.”
Owen was puzzled by how much she was sharing. He'd thought humans didn't share almost anything about themselves to strangers. Maybe she was just the exception to the rule.
“You're... awfully open to someone you only met yesterday.”
“I know. It's fun to confuse people with talking!” she grinned.
Owen gave startled laugh Oh, I like this one. It had been a while since he'd met a human as fun as her. Last time was Fox and Xanatos, and even then, they were just interesting and while it was fun working for them, he couldn't say they made quite the impression Helka was making.
“I like your laugh.” Helka said softly as she poured the orange juice in a pitcher “You should laugh more.”
Owen looked at her curiously. That sounded like something she was used to saying, not like she'd actually meant to say it.
That was how their friendship started. Though neither of them called it that until a week later Owen received a call from his boss while he was sitting on Helka's couch, the woman herself was in the kitchen at the time.
“Yes?” he answered, thinking it was work-related. Boy was he surprised.
“Owen! I found out about the fire. Why didn't you tell me and where have you been staying?” David Xanatos demanded in a high volume, high enough to catch Helka's keen ears and made her lean against the kitchen island that faced the living room, looking though the gap that ran under the cupboards over the island.
“It didn't seem important, since I was not actually caught in the fire. I am staying at a friend's for now.”
“I didn't know you had friends.”
“Until a week ago you would've still been correct.”
The phone call ended soon after that and when Owen looked up his host was standing there with a tray holding two slices of cake and two cups of coffee “Friends, huh?”
Owen smiled as she set the tray down and sat beside him “Yes, friends.”
Helka smiled and picked up her cup “Toast to that, then.”
Owen picked up his own and smiled as they clinked their cups together. He'd never had a friend before, even before he was Owen. Maybe it was time to try the concept.
Neither of them was sure when Owen had moved in. It was either before or after Helka had moved into a bigger apartment with almost the same layout but with a second bedroom and more space. She even renovated the apartment to have the same colour-scheme. But before the two even realized it, Owen was already living there alongside her, sharing the rent. Not that either of them was complaining. Owen would go to work as usual, but unlike before, Helka would have a clean and ironed suit ready for him, along with breakfast and a lunchbox. When Owen came back he would either listen to Helka's music or look through her paintings and comment on them. They both remembered an incident that made them question their status as friends but neither dwelled on those thoughts.
Helka had just finished recording a song and was playing it with her violin when she bumped into him. Helka often joked that Owen really should “stop with the goddamn ninja walking”, not that he ever did, thus she ended up bumping into him since she hadn't heard him enter the apartment.
“Gah!”
She tumbled backwards and lost her footing and if it weren't for Owen catching her around her waist then she would've probably hit her head on the coffee table.
“You should be more careful.” Owen said as he righted her and stepped away.
Helka 'humphed' and turned away from him, hiding the faint blush on her face “It's your fault, damn office ninja.”
Owen smiled in an amused way, which he did a lot when in her company “What were you playing this time?”
Helka looked over her shoulder with a sly smile “My newest masterpiece: 'Well met by fire'.”
“It sounded good.”
“Well of course, I was thinking of you when I composed it.”
Helka wasn't lying and both of them had been wondering about that incident. Helka wondered if she should've said it and Owen wondered if she'd been telling the truth.
After that they were both thinking about their feelings. Helka pondered whether this would also end up in heartbreak or disappointment or if she'd finally struck gold. She felt like Owen could fill the hole the death of her father and sister had left but the question was for how long? She craved his company and with a sad smile she knew that she could never truly let go of the man, even if he didn't feel romantic feelings for her, like she did for him. “Oh, what fool this mortal be.”
Owen, meanwhile wondered if it would be worth it to give his heart to a mortal. He knew his feelings well enough, but rarely did he feel attracted to anyone, and never had he had his eyes on a mortal before. But he knew that he would have to watch her grow old and die should he stay by her side, and he would stay by her side, the question was whether he'd feel horrible or excruciating pain and grief when she passed. She'd already wormed her way into his life and he would miss her terribly should she pass. He sighed with a self-mocking smile “Oh, what fool this fairy be.”
Neither gave a hint of their wandering thoughts as time progressed, they behaved as they always did, like friends who'd known each other for forever, which in itself was strange. But with Owen getting interested in the human and Helka getting a ton of inspiration from the fae-in-disguise's mere presence, neither was complaining. Though, Helka was very confused why she had the sudden urge to paint fantasy-style paintings. Ever since she'd met Owen she'd gotten more inspired to draw and paint mythological scenes and beasts, not to mention anything else fantasy-related. Owen was also confused, but chalked it up to the woman being magic-sensitive on a subconscious level, many humans were, this was called the “sixth-sense” by people, but honestly it was magic making them react to things in an unexplainable way.
It was strange realizing that she had no idea where the hell Owen worked and it was even stranger to realize that she didn't give a damn, even if Owen sometimes didn't make it to the apartment for days she didn't mind since Owen never complained about it. The evening she came to the startling conclusion was a stormy one. She had had the sudden urge to paint again, she hadn't even been paying attention to what she'd created until she was done. It was a big, dark... thing. She wasn't even sure what it was, it was very shadowed and possessed glowing red eyes and very sharp claws. She assumed it was a monster of some sort. It didn't happen often, but sometimes she would black out and find something strange she had made in front of her, but it hadn't happened in years. Last time she'd somehow painted a graveyard a week before her father had passed away.
Something was coming, she just didn't know what.
Owen stared at the Gargoyle painting in their living room, and when had he started viewing it as theirs? It couldn't be anything else than a Gragoyle and Owen really couldn't figure out how Helka had suddenly had the urge to paint this today of all days. Well, obviously she'd done it yesterday evening, but that was even stranger since last night had been the night the Gargoyles of Castle Wyvern had awoken.
Perhaps, Owen mused, covering the painting as he went to catch up on sleep she is less sensitive to magic and more magically inclined.