Thomas Corvin ♖ Jest (jesting) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-01-21 20:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * jeanne, * terri, c: calliope corvin, c: thomas corvin |
WHO: Calliope Pemberton, Thomas Corvin, Various NPCs (Isolda & Wilhelm Pemberton, Ramsey Asquith)
WHEN: October-November 2014
WHERE: Washington, DC
SUMMARY: A series of (mostly shorter) scenes detailing Calliope's engagement to another man. And the aftermath thereof. PART ONE!
WARNINGS: Terrible parenting, mild violence. Some non-consensual kissing. And some consensual kissing, too. 😉
The Astor Ballroom at the St. Regis hotel was one of the most sought after event spaces in DC. Tonight, it was decorated for Calliope Pemberton's twenty-first birthday, with silk curtains and a centerpiece of two dozen white roses on every table. Crystal chandeliers were reflected in the formal place settings at each table, and a polished parquet floor had been set up at the very center. Guests had been filing in, each one greeted by name by the parents of the guest of honor. Isolda and Wilhelm Pemberton flanked their daughter, both to provide a united front and to keep her under control. No one had garnered such an enthusiastic welcome from the elder Pembertons as did Ramsey Asquith, the now twenty-seven year old state representative from Delaware. He was a rising star in politics, and he'd been courting Calliope for over two years now. Tonight would be his crowning glory. Thomas Corvin was also in attendance, though his arrival had been met with a marked disapproval. Maybe it was his rented tux that didn't quite fit his lanky form. Isolda had informed him that he could stay- lest she risk a revolt from her daughter- but was not on the seating chart and he could stand at the back somewhere, out of the way. -- It was too much. The parties were always too everything for Calliope’s taste. There were only two good things about this birthday, she thought. The first was that Thomas had come to the party, which would make it mildly more bearable when she could actually escape her parents' claws long enough to talk to him. The second was that she’d fully come into her wealth just that morning. She’d received a personal call from the manager of her funds, and had stopped by to sign off on any paperwork early that morning before any festivities (hair appointments, manicures, and an entire afternoon at the spa in preparation for that evening) could begin. Calliope wasn’t above working for wages like some of the social elite, but it was at least nice to know that should she need it for any reason...she had a very comfortable living set aside for her. She’d been outfitted by her mother in an off-shoulder dress with too much tulle. It was beautiful, to be certain, but she would have preferred a smaller party with more comfortable attire. Instead, it seemed her parents had invited anyone important in the entire DC area. For a while, the party was pleasant enough after the greeting of the guests. She had been able to sneak away for a few moments to see Thomas and apologize profusely for her mother. Almost as quickly, she’d been whisked away again to mingle with a group of girls dressed in all their finery. Everyone had been shuffled into their places for a dinner that must have cost her parents thousands of dollars. As dinner concluded and dessert delivered amongst the guests, Calliope could sense something shift. Her parents looked all-too gleeful, and before she knew it, Ramsey was sliding his hand into hers, fingers clasping tight around her hand as he stood. The action forced her to stand more than just encouraging it, lest she desire to have her arm bent at an awkward angle, “What are you doing?” Her voice was quiet, but his smile was dazzling to all around them, she was certain, as he practically dragged her into display, standing in front of the main table in prime view of all of their guests. -- This was it. This was his moment. Two years of arduous courtship had led to this, and a guarantee from the Pembertons was already in place. Ramsey gave no heed to Calliope's discomfort, but instead just pulled her out into the center of the dance floor. Someone, somewhere, clinked a piece of silverware to a glass, as if calling for a kiss. Grinning, Ramsey slipped his hands to Calliope's waist, holding her tight as he leaned in. He didn't whisper. "C'mon, darlin'. Let's give 'em what they want. It's the first day of the rest of our lives, after all." With no other preamble, Ramsey leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to hers. -- They had never kissed before. Not even once. A peck on the cheek had been the closest that they’d ever come. She knew he was frustrated by that fact, but her parents had wanted her a chaste bride. They thankfully hadn’t ever seemed to discover that she’d been divested of that possibility not long after she’d begun seeing Thomas. She hated the feeling of how possessive his hands were at her waist, and his words sent her mind scrambling for answers that she didn’t have. She couldn’t have rejected the kiss if she had tried. He made certain of that. In what was sure to look romantic to all of their guests, he’d bent her back a little bit, tipping her off balance with an iron-like grip at her waist. His hand had slid into her hair, his fingers curling into strands and cupping the back of her neck, keeping her locked in close to him even as he kissed her so roughly she thought her lips may bruise. She didn’t respond so much as attempt not to fall, every cell in her body screaming to push him away...to remove herself from this situation. There was no small amount of panic, but he had her in his grip...in front of her parents and all of their friends. In front of Thomas. Tears welled in her eyes, and in an attempt to get him to stop, more than anything else...she bit him. -- Thomas knew that Calliope and Ramsey had never kissed before. She'd told him as much, in her reports of the 'dates' her mother made her go on, each one more ostentatious than the last. But those recaps were given when Thomas had Calliope held safe and gently in his own arms, sure and certain that she was his as much as he was hers. But that knowledge didn't make watching this kiss any easier. Thomas stepped backward until he hit the wall, eyes pressed closed and hands curling into fists. Not that he'd react with violence. Not here, not ever. He just… didn't want to see it. And then there was a collective gasp, and he had to look. Even now, from his distant view point, Thomas could see the incredible ring that Ramsey was offering up from his place on one knee in front of Calliope. Ignoring or simply not caring that she already wore another. It's not a diamond … Something could have come from the stars, to be found and loved by us here … I hope you'll consider it … -- She knew that when he released her, it was too good to be true. He had smirked at her before lowering to one knee, holding that ridiculous ring up towards her. It wasn’t her style. It was enormous and weighty and meant to be worn by a woman who had nothing better to do than show it off to all of her friends. The ring that she already wore, indicative of the promise she had already made, almost burned on her finger. She wanted to look for Thomas, but she didn’t know if she could stand seeing the expression on his face. Instead, she looked towards her mother as her fingers curled towards her palm. She had been the mastermind behind all of this, after all. Calliope wasn’t blind to the manipulations of her mother. For the last few years, she had tried to play the same game, though she obviously had just lost. When Calliope had expressed wanting Thomas here tonight, her mother hadn’t been snide enough in her response and she’d known it even then. She’d foolishly hoped maybe her mother was finally coming around to the engagement. Instead...she was hoping to ruin it with another. Her mother’s tense smile and severe eyes had a lot to say, and she found herself fighting at those strings she’d been attached to for so long...the ones that pulled at her muscles and made her smile as she looked back down at Ramsey. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cut those strings with the sharpest of knives. Was disappointing her parents really so bad? Say no, she bid herself, Say anything. She glanced up nervously only to see Thomas’ retreating form and started to say something. Calliope looked back down quickly, planning to run. To pull away. She looked back up. Ramsey had a tight hold on her hand, and he slid that ring onto her finger, pushing Thomas’s ring closer to her heart, and out of view, “She’s speechless, but that was a nod, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s wish a happy birthday to the future Mrs. Asquith!” He tugged her close, this time for an even more demanding kiss, her palms trapped between their chests. She could feel her heart breaking with every clap of her guests, even as their voices rang out in a birthday song that might haunt her for the rest of her days. The party had gone on for hours. Everyone had congratulated the happy couple- seemingly oblivious to how not happy one of them was. Eventuality the Pembertons and Ramsey had piled into a hired limousine and made their way back to Pemberton Manor for a nightcap. Wine had been poured in the formal sitting room, where Isolda and Wilhelm sat in their own chairs but Ramsey sat very close to Calliope on a small sofa. "A wedding while the cherry trees are blooming, don't you think?" Isolda was speaking. "I know it's terribly overdone, but the color of the blooms really does bring out Calliope's few good physical features and we need to capitalize on that." -- Somehow, Calliope had remained calm and quiet up until that point. She had let herself be shuffled around, almost in a daze, even as a glass of wine had been poured for her and placed in her hand. She had already drained it, not bothering to sip daintily or let the bouquet rest or whatever it was that she was supposed to do. Putting the empty wine glass on the table, she slowly slid that ring that had been forced upon her off of her finger and placed that on the table as well. “I’m going to marry Thomas,” she announced as she stood up from the small sofa, “Just like I promised. I stayed quiet so as to not embarrass you in front of all of your friends, but I didn’t agree to this engagement or to this marriage. As all three of you are already aware, I’ve been engaged for months already, and this,” she pointed between herself and Ramsey, “is going to stop. Immediately. You’ve all had your fun out of me, but I’m not going to be miserable for the rest of my life.” Her tone had turned poisonous, but she had been simmering quietly for hours. She almost didn’t even recognize it, “Besides, Mother, everyone knows that cherry trees are tacky.” -- Ramsey followed the path of the ring as it was placed onto the table, curious now, but it was Isolda who spoke up first. Or, rather, just laughed, the sound sharp and biting. "Oh, honestly, Calliope. As if any of us believed your little boyfriend was going to last. I have it on good authority that even tonight he left the room as soon as Ramsey's lips touched yours. He's not meant for our world." "And that little thing?" Ramsey gestured to the ring that Calliope still wore, which had been quite literally dwarfed by the one he'd put on her finger some hours earlier. "It looks like something he got from a quarter machine. At least I know how to choose something worthy of my bride." And Wilhelm, then, added his own stern tone. "Sit down, Calliope. This is not up for debate." -- “I'm not meant for our world either, as you have so lovingly pointed out to me at every opportunity for my entire life,” her voice cracked a little, but she wasn't backing down now. All of them, with their snide comments and judgments weren't worthy of her time…of her love. Why had she so desperately wanted her parents to actually care and approve of her? They were small, cruel people. She clenched her fist, her thumb pressed to the back of her ring, “This ring is thoughtful and exactly what I wanted. This is what I love. You chose something I would never wear because you don't even know me. You - all of you - like the idea of me. You like what you could force me to become, but I'm done.” She was nearly shaking with her ire now, and she easily stepped away from the couches, her strides practiced in those heels, “The debate is over. I've made my decision.” She was leaving, and she was never coming back. -- Isolda gave a faint nod toward Ramsey, and he understood her silent command. He stood, crossing the room in quick steps, his hands once again grabbing hold of Calliope's waist- though with none of the hint at care he'd offered back in that ballroom in front of their guests. No, this time he wanted to keep her in this spot regardless of how she might fight or protest, because- no matter what else- she wasn't going to walk out that door. "If this is how you feel," Isolda had stood, and she walked closer to the younger couple, though she was as poised and confident as ever, seeing no issue with the situation at hand. "Then I'm afraid you leave us no choice, Calliope. We'll simply have to keep you here until you come to your senses. Wilhelm, dear?" She glanced over her shoulder. "Find her purse. We'll need her phone and the key to Thomas' shoebox of an apartment." Wilhelm stood, nodding once. Isolda looked back to Calliope. "And you'll be giving me that pathetic ring, too. Or I will break it off your finger." -- She had been proud of herself for this rebellion…finally standing up for herself. At least, she was proud until Ramsey grabbed her almost bruisingly by the waist, holding her to his chest. She pushed and pulled, her nails digging into his arms, “Let me go!” Her mother's cold directions to her father made Calliope's blood run cold. They were going to cut her off...from Thomas. From everything. Before she could much more than protest, her mother was angling from her ring, and Calliope clenched her fingers around it, stomping her heel down hard against Ramsey's foot, “You'll have to break my finger then.” Her words were practically a growl, her eyes defiant and a bit wild, “This is madness. You do not own me!” -- Ramsey gave an injured oof, but though his grip loosened momentarily, he renewed it a moment later, tighter still than it had been before. This time, he held one of Calliope's arms behind her back- even as Isolda stepped closer and grabbed her daughter's left wrist. Her nails bit into Calliope's skin as she tried to pry her ring finger up, not caring a whit for whatever pain- physical or mental- she might be causing. "Six missed calls," Wilhelm intoned, casually, looking over the phone in his hand, Calliope's purse dumped open on the table beside Ramsey's ring. "Oh, and quite a few text messages too. Tsk, tsk." He turned the phone over, popping the back off and removing the battery and SIM card- then cracking the latter in half. -- Her right arm was twisted painfully behind her back. She was able to ignore that, but her mother's attempts to remove the ring sent ripples of pain up her arm. She just clenched her hand more tightly, her nails biting into her own palm. All the while, her father taunted about those missed messages. She could bet that they were Thomas, though she didn't know if he was trying to check in on her or if he was calling her out for what surely looked like a betrayal of everything that she had promised him, “No!” She saw that tiny chip break in half, but it contained her one lifeline. Would she ever get to know what those messages said? “Wilhelm. Come hold her arm,” Isolda was cold and calculating as ever, and her father joined the fray, holding her wrist and her elbow tightly so that her mother could solely focus on prying that ring off of her finger. It wasn't until she felt something very wrong, a pull in some muscle or ligament, that her grip gave out and her mother finally secured her prize. She didn't think anything was broken, but definitely a sprain of some sort from the dull ache that set in. Tears finally sprang to her eyes, the fight draining out of her as if holding onto that ring, the last part of Thomas she had left, had been all that kept her strong. A sob caught in her chest and she crumbled in Ramsey's grip. Though he was pursuing his graduate degree at George Washington University, his undergraduate had come from Georgetown, and the latter was all too happy to have Thomas return as a graduate teaching assistant. As were the professors he assisted, all of whom had become something more akin to colleagues rather than distant, untouchable authority figures. He had admittedly been surprised when Calliope had enrolled in a science class beyond what had been required of her major, but Thomas hadn't complained about the extra opportunities to see her during the week. Even if he was always careful not to show any particular favor or bias toward her in class, it still gave him a certain… lightness, just to have her near. But that feeling was far gone, this past week, after her birthday party. Thomas had left the St. Regis hotel rather abruptly, having felt sick with worry and anxiety and, well, sick after watching Ramsey Asquith propose to the woman that Thomas himself had planned to marry. He'd called Calliope six times that night, but she'd never picked up. Messages, too, had been sent- each more desperate than the last- before Thomas had finally given up the cause… at least for a few hours. When he tried to contact her again the next morning, a cheerfully monotone voice on the other line informed him that her number had been disconnected. Calliope wasn't in class that Thursday. The weekend dragged onward, and Thomas found himself increasingly unsure of… everything. He hadn't wanted to believe it, of course- that Calliope, his Calliope, could have been in on everything her parents had been planning for her all this time. She'd been so certain, so adamant in her refusal of them… Hadn't she? Or hadn't she actually gone back to them, after they came home from Italy, and hadn't she still gone on dates with Ramsey, despite wearing Thomas' ring on her finger? Monday morning, that very same ring- along with a simple house key- was in his faculty mail slot at Georgetown. There was no name on the envelope, but then, there didn't need to be. Thomas had his answer. -- The last week had been more or less a living hell. The night of her birthday, she had been toted up to her room and subsequently locked in. A lock had been placed on the outside of her window, just in case she got daring. She had been left alone with no access to her computer, her phone destroyed. She had no way to send any message to Thomas, and the only visits she got were from her mother. Her diet had been restricted to only the required amount of calories, all salad and soups and sparse protein. It was nearly enough to drive her mad. She didn't know what Thomas thought about her disappearance. Her mother insisted if she would only come to her senses, their lives could get back to normal. She feared every day that the future she had planned for herself was nothing more than smoldering ash. Every refusal she made just made the fury of the Pembertons rise. She had paced the floors until her legs ached from the number of steps she had surely taken. Eventually, the bruises had begun to fade and she was finally informed she'd be returning to classes. She would finally get the chance to see Thomas. To explain. Bethany Fischer put an end to those hopes. She was supposed to be a friend of Calliope's. They met at the University, and had a lot of classes together. She was, however, hopelessly enamored by the DC elite and wanted a place amongst those ranks. Isolda had paid her handsomely to keep a close watch on Calliope and ensure she only went precisely where she was supposed to go and said nothing to anyone about the last week. Specifically, she wasn't to speak to Thomas…or take off the ring that Ramsey Asquith still insisted upon her wearing. Though she had barely slept, her mother had sat her down and put on her makeup. She had dressed her from head to toe, the fashion choices nothing that Calliope herself would have chosen. She had made her into the perfect doll. Her bag felt like it was cutting into her shoulders, and she ignored the dull throb that still resided in her wrist from the bad sprain a week before…from when her mother had stolen her ring from her and replaced it with another. Still, her eyes were on alert. When she walked into class, Bethany there at her side, she finally saw him. Her heart lept in her chest and she desperately thought, Look at me, Thomas. Just look at me, please. If he did, she thought maybe he would be able to tell that she was screaming inside. Bethany kept their arms linked, her elbow tugging her towards the seats, “Come on Calliope. I want you to tell me all about the romantic getaway you've been on.” -- Thomas wasn't sure if he'd wanted to see her… or if he dreaded it. When she'd missed class last week, he'd half thought to check if she'd withdrawn entirely, but hadn't dared. Now, though, he couldn't help notice when Calliope walked into the classroom, arms entwined with Bethany Fischer as the latter guided them toward the lecture hall seats. The giant ring on Calliope's left hand- that surely must have cost several years worth of Thomas' salary- was hard to miss. As were the words romantic getaway. He tasted bile, but swallowed and determinedly turned his attention back toward Professor Forsyth. ~~ Bethany wasn't the only one who seemed excited to hear all the details about Calliope's absence. (Well, all the details that were sanitized for the public, anyway.) As the two girls made their way to their seats, other students tittered and giggled and whispered. There were hearty congratulations and appreciative whistles at the sight of the engagement ring she wore. "You are so lucky!" "He's handsome and loaded. I heard his family owns their own island in the Caribbean!" "Girl, I hope you hit that! Lock that boy down, or I will!" -- She hadn't flaunted her relationship with Thomas on campus, and now she almost wished that she had. Maybe then, they would have been quieter. Maybe they would think twice about the congratulations that they gave or the shameless encouragements. She flushed red, her eyes flitting away from those girls and back up to Thomas, though he seemed content to ignore her arrival altogether. “You can have him,” Calliope half-snapped at the latest croon of an empty-headed girl. Bethany giggled and gave Calliope a rather pointed look, “I didn't know you were into sharing, Cali. Kinky.” Calliope glared, and Professor Forsyth gave a clap of his hands, “That's enough ladies. Lecture is about to begin.” -- While that conversation had been progressing, Thomas had gathered up a pile of papers from Professor Forsyth's desk, setting them on top of his closed laptop and shouldering his own messenger bag before approaching the professor. He spoke in lower tones, not wanting to cause a fuss or a scene. "I'm going to go get these graded," he offered, "it'll get done quicker if I'm not distracted here." If the professor seemed surprised by this, he didn't show it. "Sounds good, Thomas. Just email me the grades and drop the papers in my mailbox by the end of the day." Thomas gave a nod, and headed toward the door of the classroom. He paused, just for a moment, with his hand on the door handle… Look back. Just once. Just… But what was the point? She'd made her choice, and he didn't need to see it any more, any clearer, than he'd already done. So, once again, he left. -- She was desperate to say something. Just his name, even. Whatever it took to get him to look at her. If anyone could see through this charade she was forced to play, it was him. Did he really think her capable of this? Were all the promises she made him so worthless? Had the years they spent together not been enough to prove to him the truth of her character? He knew her better than anyone else in the world. Maybe she deserved for him to turn his back on her. She'd earned his hatred fairly by not standing up to her parents sooner...by allowing them to continue to control her life despite the good things she had. She had wanted both worlds. Foolishly, she had thought she could convince her parents to come around...that they might actually care. For that naivety, she was paying a price. Maybe this was what she was meant for...to watch him turn his back and leave her to vultures who cared nothing for her and everything for reputation. Maybe this was what she had earned for promising him a future that was never really hers to give. Look back. He opened the door, and all she saw for the second time in a week was his retreating form. Another week had passed, and though- according to the papers having been turned in- Calliope had shown up to her classes with Professor Forsyth, Thomas hadn't been there to verify it. He wouldn't resign his position, of course- he didn't have the luxury of not needing the money or the recommendation. But there were plenty of things he could do to make himself useful away from that lecture hall, if he wanted to keep his sanity. (His heart was another matter, but that wasn't something to be mended any time soon, if ever.) It was an unseasonably warm day for early November in DC, and Thomas was among many students who had turned out to take advantage of the weather on the lawn in front of Healy Hall. The imposing stone building was a National Historic Landmark as well as the flagship building of the university itself- but most people passed it by without recognizing any of that significance. Though some students were tossing frisbees or enjoying picnic lunches, Thomas just sat under a large tree nearer the traffic circle that led up to Healy Hall. He didn't pay much mind to the cars that came and went, dropping off and picking up students. He was focused on the book that was resting on his raised knees, a pencil in his hand tapping idly on the ground beside him. -- She was being passed off, as per usual. Her car keys had been taken along with everything else. One of her parents or Ramsey always brought her to campus for classes and then picked her up again. While she was on campus, Bethany was a permanent accessory, as if they were attached by strings. She giggled as she leaned into Calliope as if they were actually still friends, “Oh, look! Ramsey is here to pick you up.” He was. Tall and imposing, Ramsey Asquith leaned against the side of his incredibly ostentatious SUV. It was sleek and black, and as far as Calliope was concerned, just another prison with a back up camera and leather seats. Of course he was standing by the door because it only opened from one side. Once she was locked in, someone had to let her out. They were never dumb enough to leave the car running while they got inside, never giving her a chance to flee. It had been a week since she'd even set eyes on Thomas. When he had left class that afternoon, she hadn't seen him again. She was so cut off from everything that she was lucky to know what day it was, “Hey, baby. Are you ready to go home?” Ramsey's pronounced southern drawl wasn't as charming as he probably wanted it to be. Bethany released her, and Ramsey reached out to put his hand at her waist. She smacked his hand away, but he only drew in closer, “Don't make a scene.” It was a warning. She turned, eyes blazing, ready to fight back, and caught sight of a familiar figure over Ramsey's shoulder, “Thomas!” -- He knew her voice, of course, and for the briefest moment, Thomas forgot all about the last two weeks. The sharp alarm in Calliope's voice cut through all of that, and he looked up from his book, searching her out. ~~ Ramsey gave a low, warning sort of sound, a growl in the back of his throat. He hadn't seen Calliope's ex nearby- but, then again, he likely couldn't have picked up out of a lineup of similarly hapless nerds. His other hand moved to her upper arm, having long ago forgone even the pretense of gentility with his touches. "Bethany, get the door." The other girl didn't hesitate, and Ramsey pushed Calliope toward the car. "Get in. Now." -- Thomas found her, but too late. Ramsey Asquith was pushing her backward toward the open door of a sleek black SUV, while Bethany Fischer held the door like an obedient servant. Thomas stood, his book tumbling carelessly to the ground, and took a step toward them all… What are you going to do? What could you possibly do? He's got eight inches of height and seventy-five pounds of muscle on you. He'd break you just as easily as he's broken… ...her. -- She lost her balance when he shoved her back into the passenger's seat of the SUV. Calliope tumbled into it, and before she could right herself, Bethany had closed the door on her. She sat back up and slammed both of her palms against the window, even as Bethany got into the back seat and Ramsey rounded the car towards the driver's door. Thomas was standing now, and if nothing else, he was finally looking her way. She had just a moment, even if he couldn't hear her. She pulled on the door handle, but it wouldn't budge, and slammed her fist against the glass again, tears of frustration welling in her eyes, “Thomas! I'm sorry! I love you! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” Her screams couldn't be heard outside of the well-made vehicle, but maybe he could at least pick out a few of those words on her lips. Maybe then, he would know…she hadn't said yes. She hadn't betrayed him in the way he surely thought. None of this was by her design, and they'd both been played by her parents. Ramsey got into the car, and scoffed, “Oh, shut up, Calliope.” He yanked her away from the window and shoved her back into the seat properly, his words a growl as he held her shoulder back to the seat, “He's nothing. He's no one. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can all get on with our lives.” Finally letting go of her, he put the car into drive and hit the gas. If anyone was an expert a breaking out of Pemberton Manor, it was Calliope. And, luckily for Thomas, she had recounted these methods over the years, told him in between giggles and devious smiles as they met up at pre-planned rendez-vous. Now, as he approached Pemberton Manor under cover of darkness, all he could hope was that those various cracks in their security hadn't yet been covered up by their renewed efforts to keep their daughter caged in. He should have seen it sooner, of course. Known it sooner. It had taken until that afternoon, watching Calliope be physically manhandled and shoved into a vehicle to be driven away, before Thomas had believed that everything had happened had been a plot against them. The ring and the key and even Bethany… All of it a ruse. And he'd fallen for it. He owed Calliope a thousand and one apologies… But first he had to get to her. And while stealing her away from under her parents' noses might not have been his best idea, Thomas rather hoped that it would at least be easier than doing anything in broad daylight on the Georgetown campus. As told- as hoped- there was still a bar missing from the wrought iron fence by the rhododendron bush. Giving thanks- for once- that he wasn't broad or muscled, Thomas slipped sideways between the bars, holding a hand up to cover his face from the bush's scratching branches. (More than once he'd picked a leaf or flower out of Calliope's hair from this very plant.) Emerging the other side, he studied the facade of the manor, trying to orient himself as to where Calliope's room would be. He'd only been inside once, more than a year ago- when her parents had been away on a trip. Finally, as certain as he could get, Thomas approached the building- keeping to the shadows and behind trees as best he could. A large tree stood outside Calliope's window. (Or what he hoped was Calliope's window.) At its base, Thomas looked up- silently debating the merits of climbing the tree or trying to scale the brick itself, and now wishing he'd tried rock climbing more than once in his life. Finally, he scrambled up to one of the lower branches, using his legs to boost himself higher, branch by branch. When he finally reached the level of her window, he peered inside- nudging his glasses back up his nose as he squinted through the thick paned glass. But… there she was. Several of the tree's branches stretched out toward the manor's walls, and Thomas carefully eased out onto one. It swayed under his weight, but didn't feel too perilous, yet. So long as he didn't look down. Closer to the window, now, he could see that a zip-tie had been placed at the hinge. Pulling a pen from his pocket, Thomas nudged the tip between plastic and metal, trying to stretch them apart. It took a minute, but finally the plastic snapped and fell away to the ground below- as did his broken pen. Thomas tapped, very gently, on the window. -- As had become her nightly routine, Calliope was pacing. The evening hadn't been pleasant. When Ramsey had informed her mother of the stunt she had pulled, she'd not only been locked in her room without dinner, but Isolda had paid her a visit after an hour or so. They'd argued…or Calliope had argued and her mother had remained infuriatingly cold. She knew she had gotten under her mother's skin, though. The tell-tale proof was in the slight bruise and scratch on her cheek where her mother had struck her. Nothing that foundation wouldn't cover, of course. Just like the other bruises that littered her arms from her birthday two weeks ago. Most of them were well on the mend now, but there were still tiny discolorations of her skin. Her wrist had been healing slowly, but was aching terribly again after beating on the window of Ramsey's car earlier that afternoon. She didn't regret it. At least now she had some solace in the fact that Thomas knew she hadn't just abandoned him on a whim. He didn't know the whole truth. Maybe he never would. But it would have to be enough. Maybe he would finally come back to class where she could talk with him, despite Bethany's constant intervention. She didn't expect to see him until then. The day after next at least. There was finally some small amount of hope budding in her chest. She heard the tap against her window, and for a moment, thought that maybe something had fallen from the nearby tree. Or maybe a bird had dropped a nut. Calliope glanced towards the window, and did nearly a double take. Tough it was dark outside, and he was dressed in all black, she could see Thomas's face through that glass. She rushed to the window, heart flying, and looked to where it had been locked, ready to tell him that it couldn't be opened without that removal. But it was gone. She grasped the bottom of the window and very gingerly slid it up higher, as quiet as she could manage. Her voice was a breathless whisper, “I'm sorry. They…they took everything. My ring, my key, my phone, my computer...I tried…I couldn't…” -- She had apologies and explanations on her lips as soon as the glass was gone from between them, but Thomas was shaking his head. Yes, he'd want that whole story eventually, but for now? "I love you." He'd said those words countless times before, but had, perhaps, never meant them so much as he did in this moment. "And I'm sorry. For running. For being a coward. For not believing in you- in us." Slowly, a hand reached out. "Come with me, Calliope. Once and for all." As it had five months before, his open palm held a simple ring made of silver, sapphire, and stardust. -- Tears slipped down over her cheeks as he apologized, but mostly because of those first words. He still loved her. That was all that mattered. She didn't even care that he had run. He'd come back to her now, and she would never take him for granted again. She reached out and took that ring back into shaking hands, sliding it back where it belonged…where she had promised it would stay. Calliope didn't wear Ramsey's ring at night, at least. Only when they could make her. She braced her hands against the windowsill and leaned out across that short space, kissing him soundly for a long moment, “I love you. Just let me get shoes and a change of clothes.” When she ducked back into the room, she was reluctant to walk anywhere she couldn't see him. Still, she found her tennis shoes and slipped them on with her pajama bottoms. A moment later, she had slid herself into a Georgetown sweatshirt, and quietly scrambled together to put a few necessary items into a duffle bag. A couple of changes of clothes just so she wouldn't be left with nothing. Most importantly, photographs that she had managed to hide away of the two of them. There was nothing else she would really need. Back at the window, she gently lowered her bag just a bit and then tossed it towards the base of the tree. Nothing in it could be broken anyway. Without further preamble, she slipped one foot out over the ledge of the window and reached for the upper branch. -- She'd taken her ring back, and Thomas let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding- only to lose it a moment later when she kissed him. Though they'd had longer separations, when she was in Italy, these last few weeks had been more difficult for their uncertainty and heavy doubts. Those were gone now. She was leaving, with him. Once and for all. Thomas had eased away from the window once Calliope was ready to make her escape- giving her room to do so, without abandoning her entirely, of course. Once she had both feet out onto the branch, he eased out toward her again- a hand found hers, and he tugged them both back toward the tree's trunk. "There," he said, grinning as his hand slipped to her waist just from their combined momentum. "That wasn't so hard." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then offered, "I'll go first. Getting down shouldn't be nearly as hard as climbing up." Thomas picked his way toward the ground, testing branches as he went- even if they were the same ones he'd used not so long before. When his feet finally hit the grass below, he grabbed up Calliope's bag, then looked up, ready to help her through the last few feet of her own descent, and even to catch her if she might need it. -- She didn't usually escape using the tree, but she usually wasn't locked in her room either. Calliope was grateful for his steadying touch at her waist, smiling softly at his assurance, “I'll follow you. One step at a time.” She waited just a few moments for him to get a head start and then picked her way down through the branches, looking down to see where he had been and making sure she wouldn't step on his fingers. Finally, she ran out of branches to step onto, and made the short jump down to the grass. She stumbled a little, a bit breathless and stomach rumbling after not having eaten since her sparse, monitored lunch of half a grapefruit and a salad. She ignored that in favor of finally turning towards him and hugging herself to his chest, burying her face against his neck. A small shudder went through her, and she knew it wasn't smart to linger here for long. She just needed to feel that closeness, if only for a moment, “I never want to see them again, Thomas.” -- His arms wrapped around her, savoring this moment despite the fact that they shouldn't have stayed there for very long at all. They still had a lawn to cross, rhododendrons to tangle with, and several blocks to walk before they got to his car and a more meaningful method of escape. "I know," Thomas replied, quietly. "I… I have some ideas. But let's get out of here, first, okay?" Once outside the fence, Thomas paused again to pick the leaves from Calliope's hair, and she did the same for him. "This way," he added, taking up her hand as he gestured down the block in the direction of his car. (It was not a sleek black SUV. It was, rather, a beat up blue sedan that was nearly as old as he was, that he'd bought off his first physics professor some three years previous.) Unlocking the passenger door with his key, Thomas held the door open for her- but he would, of course, let Calliope get in of her own free will. Her bag was set down on the back seat, and Thomas walked around to the driver's side. It took two turns before the engine revved to life, but they were on the road away from Pemberton Manor soon enough. "I changed the locks on my door," he offered. "When I got that key back in the mail. Just in case. But I've already got an extra for you." Wishful thinking, that. "And… and we can go, in the morning, to file a restraining order against them, if you want. I'll vouch for what they've done." Thomas hesitated for a moment, then continued, carefully, "We can go to the Justice of the Peace, too. But only if you want to. Just to… clear up any… next-of-kin arguments that may arise." -- This was the last time she would be sneaking through this fence, she realized. She should have made the last time months ago when she returned from Italy. She hadn't known then what this would turn into. She had known that her mother's expectations of her would never align with what she wanted, but she had held out hope that they might be able to compromise. Now she couldn't believe she'd been that stupid. Thomas's car was familiar and a welcome sight. It wasn't as nice as anything her family drove, and yet another thing that her parents had fussed about. She knew it was all about status. As long as his car got them from Point A to Point B, she wouldn't complain. She was grateful that Thomas opened the door for her, but she got in without any hesitation. This was a stark contrast to what the last two weeks had been like for her. Calliope settled into the car and put on her seatbelt, listening quietly as he explained that he'd changed the locks at his apartment. She felt a roll of guilt go through her that he'd had to do that at all…because of her. There was a little relief that he had a key made for her, though she wouldn't question if it had been intended for her or just a spare, “I definitely want a restraining order. I don't want them to be able to come near me…either of us.” Calliope smiled somewhat bashfully when he offered that they could legally wed, even without a ceremony. Her answer came quickly, though, “Please. I never want there to be any question. You are my family, Thomas. I thought before…about just getting married when we were in Italy, but I didn't want to exclude your family. We can still have a proper ceremony just like we planned in the spring?” -- "Then we'll get one. It shouldn't be difficult to arrange." At least, he hoped not. If they had any luck left between the two of them, the Pembertons' influence wouldn't have spread quite so far as to deny them any legal proceedings. Thomas glanced over to Calliope for just a moment at her insistence, but he was smiling, even as he looked back at the road ahead of them. With his left hand still on the steering wheel, he held his right out for her to take. "Mom and dad already have their plane tickets for the spring," he replied, smiling almost ruefully. "They bought them as soon as I told them the date." They had been planning to marry on the anniversary of their erstwhile first coffee date, the one that Thomas hadn't known was a date at all. "And I'd still like a ceremony, I think. For them and for us and for our proper friends." Not Bethany Fischer, that was certain. "My ring won't be here until closer to that date, anyway." They'd ordered one to match her own- silver and stardust. "So we don't have to mark tomorrow as anything in particular- we'll keep the same date as we intended. We'll just have all the… legal stuff taken care of, well in advance." -- “Thankfully…I had some emergency provisions in place. I never thought I would need them for this reason, but I have an official copy of my birth certificate and my social security card in a safety deposit box at the bank. My parents didn't know about it, and I grabbed the key before we left. That should get me a new ID, for everything we're going to take care of tomorrow.” Calliope had put those things aside in case she got mugged or there was a fire. She hadn't told her parents about it because she thought they would assume her paranoid and tell her it was unnecessary. She was glad now for her secrecy. She slipped her hand into his easily, but smiled when he admitted his parents had already arranged transportation for their spring wedding. At least they wouldn't completely change those plans, “We can celebrate this as Calliope's Freedom Day. That's enough for me.” She squeezed his hand gently and admitted, “With the legal stuff, I'd like to go ahead and change my name. Even one more unnecessary day as a Pemberton is too many. I don't have to change it publicly yet, but just…I want to get that sorted quickly.” There were a lot of things she would have to decide, especially concerning her accounts at the bank where the manager of the accounts frequently schmoozed with her parents. Her mind was spinning with it all, but that might partially have been because, “Can we pick up something to eat before we get to the apartment? She didn't let me eat after lunch…” |