shelley_winters: (Pain/Green/Dark)
[personal profile] shelley_winters
She hears him shouting downstairs.

It's hard to ignore, impossible, even though her ears are still ringing after she'd thrown up violently in a mix of horror and rage and disgust and misery, then sat there on the floor, shaking and damp with sweat. And the ceiling's thin, and his voice is rising to almost a shriek below her and she didn't lock the door.

She half-crawls over to slide the bolt home with shaking hands, waiting for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Instead his voice only raises, and she can hear the name he is calling on above everything else, and she slowly starts to cry. He's mad, and she's made him this angry, and her throat still hurts. She turns on both the taps in the bath in an attempt to drown him out.

The rush of water doesn't work, but it makes him less intelligible, and she's glad of that, at least. She's glad of the heat of the water, too, when she gets in, still wearing her blouse, bathroom light turned off. She hates getting undressed in the light. And when she lies back and lets the water flow over her ears, finally blocking the sound of his voice, she closes her eyes, needing the silence.

It's the deepest night before she finally lets herself out, listening tensely for Elan, even though he has been silent for hours. Her hair is almost dry, and she climbs into bed as quietly as she can. She can manage. Somehow, she will manage, in the morning.




It's almost midday.

Shelley sits on the bottom stair, watching the sleeping figure curled in the centre of the floor. He looks smaller than usual. She rubs tiredly at her eyes, then stands. So, she can cope. The kitchen is safer, there are knives if he wakes and is still... still...

Well. Still himself at her.

Kettle. She needs a cup of tea.

Date: 2006-12-03 09:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Something creeping cold in the softdarkness are you there Graendal? my knees are burning but oh it feels so veryvery good when you scream in my head please stop. mother where are you?
A soft whimper from Ishamael as he twisted slightly in his sleep. A few soft unintelligible words pleading with the phantoms of his mind. His hands were hopelessly tangled in the sheet forming his skirt.
spider webs fill the greenhouse of dead plants. Sticky webs and golden spiders. No No No get off! You're hurting me. Why can't I see? Mother getthemoff getthemoff!
A few soft cries.

Date: 2006-12-03 09:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Awaking with a start, Elan untwisted his body and rose to sit kneeling in the middle of the floor. He could hear the whistle of the kettle and paid it no mind, and sat with his back to the kitchen. A look of misery on his face.

Abandoned.

Date: 2006-12-03 09:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
A misery-laden glance over his shoulder at her before turning his glance away from her. He had nothing to say to her. There was nothing to say. He had little desire to eat anything. The thought of doing so made his stomach a touch queasy.

Date: 2006-12-03 10:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Closing his eyes and trying to block out the smell of the tea, Elan simply sat in still silence. His shoulders hunched inward, arms held flush against his chest. He wished that he would simply wake up in his bed in his estate to find this all a most heinous dream.

Date: 2006-12-03 10:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Sitting in still, silent repose, Elan attempted to ignore the sounds of her finishing her tea and washing the cup after she finished much as she always did. Stifling the thoughts, he attempted to regain the emptiness in his mind. It was easier not to think at all.

Date: 2006-12-03 10:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Seeming to shrink at the words, Elan spoke softly and bitterly. His voice sounded very sad.

"Not in particularly, but I suppose that I must."

(αποθανειν θελω)

Date: 2006-12-03 10:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Something in Elan's heart responded, gaily, to the tone as he rose from his kneeling position and wandered off towards the shower in deference to her wishes.

"Very well, Shelley."

His mother used to use such a tone with him.

"Elan, you need to shower."
"I do not wish to, Mother. The water is hot and the soap irritates my eyes."
"Nonetheless, you must bathe."
"Mother, I do not wish to."
"Shower now, Yahid, as I wish to take you somewhere and I will not do so unless you have showered."
"Very well, Mother!"


A soft smile blossomed if but barely on Elan's lips

Date: 2006-12-03 11:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
After the better part of an hour, Ishamael walked back into the living room impeccably dressed, the white suit he wore when he arrived in Tackleford having been washed the day before. A calm nod to Shelley as he offered her a hand from where she was sitting. A thin veneer of calm having been established during his shower. He would-must conquer this.

"Are we not going, my lady?"

Date: 2006-12-03 11:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] always-a-liar.livejournal.com
Turning from her towards the door, Elan retorted quickly.

"Enough that I will not die of humiliation upon being seen in public."

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