#* points 001 .

[taltalk]

             it is not often taliesin refuses interviews, but stubborn nature leaves answer as a simple no. annoyance is well hidden behind kind features. eyes stay locked on papers, notes carefully shuffled as he lays them carefully on desk.   “ you’ll find another show, i’m sure another host would pick you up in a heartbeat, dear. but i really am booked. ”   he’s lying, a fact their manager could tell them. 

[taltalk]

          the clock ticks by rather slowly, the day always has dragged on when he’s managed to find himself alone, a rather rare occurrence, but this year it seems to have caught him off guard, of course he and amelia had a skype call early that morning, eating breakfast together as was their routine, but afterwards, the host was left by himself. he can’t complain at forty-seven he’s gone soft and grey, but he’s got a loving daughter, a career he can’t exactly get out of, a handful of friends who aren’t manipulative. 

          he takes a seat at a little back table in the rather empty restaurant, looking through a newspaper, when someone approaches he speaks without really looking up.   “ heart shaped chocolate ? ”   he offers, which is less of a question and more his way of begging : please i have eight boxes at home and i don’t know what to do with them at this point. without seeming so desperate.

[taltalk]

                  he doesn’t visit the walk, not as often as he should for all the friends laid to rest there. but he’s restless, and sleep doesn’t find him as easily as he wishes it would. so he finds himself walking the too bright streets of Hollywood’s late night, the stars in the sky nonexistent compared to the ones below his feet. he walks at a cautious pace, slow and careful, studying polished lettering, the names of friends and family, the differing sizes of polished tombstones, their walk a ghost town, a space saved for each of them, cancelled or not they’d all end up here one way or another, it was an inevitability he knew too well by now. 

                    Taliesin tried not to be terribly avoidant with others. but lately, they’d been dropping like flies, the constellations seemingly stretching for miles. it all makes him a bit uneasy. as if coming here is the most sadistic game of roulette, looking at the newly planted names, hoping that the next one won’t be someone too close, hoping he won’t be questioned about it. soft heart can only ache so much for the children here, who signed their lives before they even began, it is hard to remember he did the same, once upon a time. a twenty year old kid in LA, he’d signed his life away before he truly knew what it meant. 

                  but self pity was something he tried to keep at a distance, he’s signed his contract, so had they. but at the end of the day, that didn’t make it hurt less, anyone in LA could tell you that. he’d like to say it gets easier, and for other’s maybe it was, but Taliesin’s heart had always been too soft, too open, and the pain always lingered a bit too long. 

                  he finds an older selection of them, leans to move wilted petals carried by the breeze, picking them up carefully, slipping them in his pocket, a sigh pulling from his lips, but he spares them a smile, fragile as it is, there’s pain there still, but it’s long eased into dull ache, not dissimilar to prodding at an old scar.

                  he doesn’t visit the walk, not as often as he should for all the people he’s help put there.