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Sascha Connolly, Ph.D. ([info]bohemiarhapsody) wrote in [info]nosuchplace,
@ 2009-09-19 11:39:00

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Entry tags:dione castel, sascha connolly

Sunday: February 10, 2008
Who: Sascha and Dione
When: Evening
Where: Dione's bungalow
What: Time for a long overdue visit

Three months. It had been nearly three months since Sascha had last visited his musically inclined friend, and he felt more than a little guilty about the fact. He'd tried to drop by the Wine Bar from time to time, but something always ended up preventing him from following through on his plans. It also seemed that Dione would periodically go missing, which was strange but also understandable. The medium had certainly never been the most social of creatures, anyway.

Even his attempt to visit her the previous day had been thwarted by bad timing, as he'd learned after talking to Irei. The necromancer, apparently, had been able to pin the woman down long enough to get a piano lesson out of her. Well, that just meant that if Sascha wanted to see her, he would have to stop relying on her appearances at the Wine Bar and go straight to the source.

That was how he'd ended up on the doorstep of her bungalow just before sunset, knocking tentatively and waiting for an answer. He'd never visited Dione at home before; he knew that she tended to keep to herself. He hadn't exactly been invited here tonight, either, so he really hoped she opened the door.

"Anybody home? Miss Dione? I promise I'm not selling anything. It's me, Sascha."

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-20 01:12 am UTC (link)
It was not unusual for her to lose track of her days, or to only venture out when food became an issue. Dione was a ghost in her own home, moving from room to room silently and often without touching anything. In all the time that she had been living in the haven, her home had been largely undisturbed, people did not seek her out. Mostly because she didn't appear to be all that companionable sort, a truth in itself. She was hard to get to know if you wanted to know her specifically. Discussions of music were easy enough, but to discuss her was to get so much silence and blank stares.

Now there was the sound of someone at her door. The last person to come to her home of their own accord had been Sheldon after she disappeared over the Christmas holidays, unable to stomach the lonliness but all the more unwilling to seek out others in her pain. Now it seemed she was having her self-imposed exile broken again.

Dione had been sitting in her living room, knees drawn up to her chest, blindly staring out the window in the direction of the road. Companion was not expected, but it placed her close enough to easily hear someone coming up her front steps and then to her door. Getting up, she moved to the door and opened it enough to make it obvious she was at home and not adverse to visitors.

"Evening," she acknowledged him even if she didn't stay at the door, but returned to her bench near the window. There was one other chair in the living room, left open for her visitor.

Dexter who had been standing there, watching her as she stared at nothing was glad it was Sascha. It might have been better if it were Irei if only because then could also be a part of the conversation on more equal footing, but oh well. At least the old Doctor was not a crazy werewolf trying to turn his sister into a monster while breaking her heart.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-09-20 09:23 pm UTC (link)
Well, at least Sascha knew he was welcome whether he got a standing ovation or not. He shut the door after himself, shrugging the satchel off his shoulder and setting it on the open chair. Dione seemed to have curled herself into a ball, and she seemed so lonely, so...alone, it broke his heart just a bit.

"Hey Dexter," he murmured, acknowledging the spirit's presence as he slid a hand over Dione's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "How's my little Georgia peach? I hear you're giving free lessons now, is that right? Awfully generous of you." He smiled and idly brushed a few strands of hair off her shoulder. "You really should make him work for it, y'know."

A comfortable silence fell between them as Sascha looked out the window beside her, his eyes catching the last, dying rays of the sun that the woman beside him could probably only barely feel on her skin. It looked like she was waiting for someone, and Sascha had a pretty good idea of who that someone might have been. His memory loss had improved quite a bit over the past few days, and he'd encountered plenty of strangers who were all too willing to rehash the gritty details of the encounter.

Especially the part about the blind woman who had come to the aid of the crazed lycanthrope. Yes, he definitely remembered that part.

He didn't expect much from Dione conversation-wise, at least not really; he just thought she could benefit from a little company. "I brought a little present for you, if you're interested." He knelt down so that he was more at her level. "It's a book. Thought I could read it to you, if you have time."

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-20 11:08 pm UTC (link)
Sascha was very much welcome in Dione's house, one of the few people in the Haven she could count a friend in all the time she had spent there, feeling far too alone. It was already February. Soon it would be May and the anniversary of her Mother's death. The anniversary of when the madness began for her. Then it would be ten years, ten years since her brother's death, followed by the awareness of it having been a year since her father's. All of it would dominoing together, bringing with it a mental pressure that few stable people found themselves capable of handling. Dione was a long way from stable, spiraling ever further downward into a mental and emotional pit from which she might very well never return.

Dexter acknowledged Sascha without a word, moving through the living room unseen and for the most part unfelt. It made no difference if he stayed or not, Dione was the only one who could truly hear him, even if Sascha was the one speaking.

The touch made her turn her head a little, not surprised by it, but just in acknowledgement. "Why? It's just a lesson. Everybody should have music."

She wasn't waiting for anyone. There was no one to wait for. He was a monster, according to the words of others in the haven. Dione didn't believe it, but she knew that he would not be allowed out again. He would be kept locked away until he died or they proved his innocence. One was far more likely than the other. It was simply the best place in the house to sit, that bench.

"What is it?" He had her attention and her curiosity, sometimes those were hard things to garner, but Sascha had them. No one had read to her in a long time. Really, there didn't seem much time when it was a matter of survival and now she'd simply seemingly forgotten the pleasure. She gravitated toward the piano, it was what she sought out to make her happy. "I have nothing if not time." Including a life she didn't really want. Dione felt both cheered and cheated by the fact that she wasn't dead. Cheered as there was a part of her that desperately wanted to survive. Cheated because just as strongly, she really didn't. She was tired of being the survivor.

Not the kind of thing one tended to talk about.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-09-21 02:42 am UTC (link)
Sascha knew better than to delve into thoughts uninvited, especially thoughts of such an obviously personal nature. Not to say that all thoughts weren't personal, but grief was an exceptionally personal topic. It wasn't as though the medium was likely to share these thoughts aloud, either, or she probably would have by now. Yes, he knew better...but that didn't stop him.

So much loss, one death after another. He'd known Dione's past was filled with tragedy, but this just seemed like too much. An entire family dead, and her, the sole survivor. He moved his hand to the back of her head, stroking carefully at the crown in reassurance. Sascha could sympathize with her to some degree, but his circumstances had been drastically different; and he'd had Irei to help stave off the loneliness.

"Music helps, but...people need more than that. And that's why I'm here." He smiled and retrieved the book in question from his satchel before seating himself on the floor at her feet so that his back was propped against her legs. The book fell open in his lap, and he flipped back to the beginning as he responded to her.

"Time is all I ask for, Miss Dione," he said gently, glancing over the words on the page for the first time in several years. "It's a collection of short stories, actually. Some sad, some...hopeful. They were written from a place of extreme sorrow. I thought you might appreciate hearing a few of them."

He paused for a beat before starting to read, his voice slow and careful. The words rolled off his tongue with a familiar ease that even the most loyal of readers couldn't have replicated. No, these words were far more precious, far more internalized than that. Sascha knew these words by heart, because that's precisely where they'd originated.

Half an hour had passed by the time he'd finished the first story, and he waited quietly to hear what his broken friend might have to say.

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-22 01:50 am UTC (link)
The touch in her hair got a reaction like that of a stroked cat, she seemed to be pleased by it. It was a different touch than what she normally got. So many people seemed to make it to the haven, but with others so they were not alone. In fact, even those who did manage to get there alone were strong enough in personality to be able to make new friends and move on with their lives. Dione instead seemed to draw inward and nearly die for want of care. It was hard for her to reach out, nearly impossible for her.

Dione lived on music. It sustained her when there was nothing else. Her whole life seemed to be ringed in by pain, except that it was mostly a place of her own making. Now he wanted to tell her a story. The last living person to read her a story was her Father. He'd always thought it was important that she still get a chance to be allowed to take part in something so simple.

"Who wrote that?" It wasn't a story she remembered. That didn't mean it wasn't a classic, but only that it wasn't a story that she already knew.

Dexter was still hanging out, listening to the story also. He enjoyed a good story just as much as his sister did. He had watched Sascha's face and tried to figure out what he was seeing there during the reading. In the end, he stood next to his sister, reaching out to touch her face and remind her of his presence.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-09-27 12:05 am UTC (link)
Sascha's lips twisted into a wry smile at the question. Who had written it, indeed. The words had been his, as had the meaning behind them, and yet...he could feel the distance of the years. This was the work of a much younger man with many, many fewer experiences than the man reading it.

"I had a contract with a publisher to release two other titles, but it never happened. Took about a year longer than I expected to churn this out, anyway." He gave a long-suffering sigh and laid back against her leg, his head pillowed on her thigh in a comfortable position. "I wrote it after I lost Annie and Bella. It was...almost like therapy."

He stared upward almost blankly from Dione's lap, his tone gentle. "You never talk about your family, but I know you think about them. Will you tell me something, anything? Sometimes it helps to talk. How...what was it like to have a family?" There was no bitterness in his voice, only curiosity. "Parents, siblings...I never had any of that. Tell me what it was like."

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-27 02:01 am UTC (link)
The question had been the logical one to her mind. It sounded like it could be classic, but it wasn't a story she recognized. Perhaps she should have realized that Sascha was a part of it, but whatever indication there had been of that, she hadn't noticed. It didn't matter one way or another, since he told her what she wanted to know.

"At least you finished it," there was a bit of optimism there. He had managed to complete the project all together. That said plenty.

The conversation coming around to family made some little bit of her shut away again, pull away and hide from the reality of the life she had now. After all, it was just a reminder, a reminder that she was alone in the world despite the fact that her brother was always around her. He had been around her for a decade. Spent every day with her, comforted her when there seemed to be nothing left. Stilled her fingers when it seemed she was tear them off with her wringing.

"They're gone, Sascha. Ain't no use dredging it up," Dione didn't want to talk about her family, good times or bad times. Christmas had felt like her heart was being ripped out. She had lain in her bed for days, caring for nothing. Until that was disturbed. Once it was disturbed, she'd come out again and behaved like a bit of a nervous cat, only barely soothed when Dante had come back into her life...then he was gone and all those horrid things had happened. Things she didn't understand or care to think much about. "I loved them, now they're gone."

She could say the word dead, but she seemed to avoid it whenever possible. As if that could change the reality.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-09-27 10:41 pm UTC (link)
Sascha pursed his lips thoughtfully at Dione's reply. They weren't quite the words he'd wanted to hear, but they were certainly the ones he'd expected. Irei tended to be equally tight-lipped when it came to the specifics of his past, and Sascha knew when to push and when to let things be. Pushing Dione wouldn't get him anywhere, not in her current state of mind.

"So I see," he said carefully, closing his eyes and flicking idly at the corner of the page with his thumb. "Alright then, no more questions. If you don't want to talk, that's fine with me. I just...thought I'd ask, in case you did." There was the slightest tinge of disappointment in his voice, but he smoothed it over with a sigh.

He wanted to find some way to connect with her that didn't feel forced, but he was beginning to wonder if that was even possible without the aid of some musical instrument. Music was a language they both spoke fluently, and one of the few languages Dione seemed to speak at all to others. What had Danté said to earn such devotion from her?

Yes, Sascha had finally remembered those few moments during the encounter in the marketplace where he'd actually been inside the other man's mind, and the memory left him in a cold state of dread. The sheer darkness he'd seen there, the unadulterated, evil intentions that had filtered through his own mind had been enough to stop him in his tracks- and he'd been fooled just as easily as everyone else. That had been the scariest part of all, that there could even be such a monstrously corrupted soul beneath all that normalcy. He understood how Dione could have fallen for the façade as easily as the rest of the haven, but...but what else had he done to her? Why did she trust him over everyone else?

Maybe he'd never asked anything more of her than she was willing to give, Sascha didn't know. What he did know, as he sat there pondering the mystery that was the woman behind him, was that something felt very, very wrong. Something wild and instinctual crackling in her synapses, so subtle that at first his psychic sweep hadn't even touched on it; but it was still there, in the recesses of her mind, pulsing with latent energy and waiting for...

Sascha's eyes instantly sprang open, and as he turned to look up into Dione's grey, unseeing eyes, his jaw went slack in amazement. He knew that energy, and he knew it well- he'd felt it when he had been in the presence of Jack, and then Simon, and Danté himself, and even Adrienne and Katy. It was quite literally the mark of the beast.

And now it had claimed Dione.

He shook his head disbelievingly, eyes widening in shock as he realized the implications of this feeling, and of exactly the sort of power Danté truly held over her.

"Dione, you-" There was an audible waver in his voice as he withdrew from her. "What did he do to you? Did he...did you ask him to bite you? Do you know what he's done?!"

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-28 01:14 am UTC (link)
His words and recoil confused her. Things were coming too fast after things going so very slow. Now she wondered exactly what was bothering him, folding her hands carefully into her lap. Gray eyes widened some with fear, then seemed to spring some tears.

Why did everyone speak so horribly of him? With a disturbed shake of her head, she finally put her head down, letting her face disappear in a curtain of hair.

"No," the word came out as a groan. She moved to get up, actually stumbling a little in the motion. "He loves me." Her mentality was a jumble of thoughts, awareness of the personal lie she told herself and the truth of how much horror Dante had brought. "Is it wrong to want someone to love me?"

It seemed even Sascha was turning against. Everyone was turning against her. They didn't understand. None of them could. He showed them what he wanted them to see. Of course he did, but he told her the truth. He'd shown her real affection. Her hands moved, nearly on their own, pulling at the hair framing her face then working inward toward her eyes. Her tears looked almost fake, like bits of glass glued to her face, they refused to move.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-09-28 02:21 am UTC (link)
The initial shock and horror Sascha had felt upon discovering Dione's terrible little secret was quickly overshadowed by concern. The poor girl was practically folding in on herself, and all he could do was stand there like an asshole and make accusations. Dione didn't need a judge and jury right now- she needed a friend.

"Dione, I-" he paused, unable to think of anything useful to say as she began to claw at her eyes. "Stop that, sweets, you'll just make it worse." He gently grasped her wrists and pried them away from her face, pulling her against him and trapping her there with his arms. If she tried to fight him, he could handle it; the least he could do was try to calm her down, especially since his outburst had started all of this in the first place.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just- my God, Dione, look at you. Look at what this is doing to you." He clutched at the back of her head and pressed the side of his face against hers, rocking her lightly as though she were an upset child. "Do you understand what's happened? What's going to happen? Do you think it's love that he's given you, Dione?"

Sascha wished Dexter could take some sort of corporeal form, because he could really use a helping hand right about now. It almost felt as though he could crush the fragile creature in his arms. "It's never wrong to want love. Calm down, just....calm down."

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-09-28 01:22 pm UTC (link)
Dione had tiny scars around her eyes and actually on them, but those were impossible to see unless you were nose to nose with her. As far as she was concerned, she could make absolutely nothing worse. She already couldn't see. What difference did it make what she looked like anymore? The truth was that it didn't matter, but she didn't fight him pulling her hands away from her face. Dione allowed him to pull her to him and just hold her. There were tears, but no sobbing, to the point where it seemed almost fake. Except that Dione was simply a quiet person, so even with her having a fit, she was still for the most part quiet.

Sobs were unnecessary. He held her and she cried. She didn't shiver. Didn't try to fight. Just let it happen, like she did everything. Dione was not a fighter. She'd lost too many times to think that fighting did anything but made it hurt more. Not to mention, she was ready for it to stop. Let the whole world stop. She was like a child stuck on a merry-go-round that wanted to get off. The only problem: getting off meant dying and she wasn't quite proactive enough to make that happen.

Truthfully, she had no idea what he'd given her. Everyone reacted to the bite as a bad thing. As if he'd hurt her. He could have done so much worse. She wished he would have. That he would have destroyed her like others seemed to think he'd done to others. Just as Theora had thought, how could he be gentle with one and so violent with others, was it something in his thinking or something about her?

Her brother would have given anything to be able to hold her, to comfort her, to feel her breath, and wipe away her tears. Unfortunately, he was dead and could only hope that Sascha would realize how bad off Dione was. How much her own thinking had become dangerous. Her sitting on that bench all the time, playing phantom keys or humming snatches of songs. It was rare for her to cry, but those were the moments when he swore she wanted nothing to do with the world anymore. Convincing her to go to the Wine Bar was the only thing he could do. At least if she was walking or playing, she wasn't suffering as badly. Distracted.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-10-21 04:13 am UTC (link)
Sascha was dumbfounded. He honestly had no idea how to handle the tearful woman, although he knew that physically leaving her alone in her current state would be a bad idea. All he could offer at this point was comfort and whatever small, manageable dose of reality she could handle. He doubted that anything he said would break through to her, but all he could do was try.

"Dione," he said softly against her hair before he pulled back enough to murmur into her ear. "Dione, listen to me. You may not understand what's going to happen, but I can feel it. I can read it in your mind, it's already taken hold." He paused for a moment to let Dione prepare herself- and Dexter as well, since he had a lingering suspicion that the spirit was just as clueless about the entire matter as his sister.

"...you're going to turn into a werewolf." He realized a little belatedly that bluntness was probably his best course of action, and he stroked her hair comfortingly as he spoke. "There are traces of lycan energy in your mental patterns, and I can only assume that Danté's the one responsible for biting you. Dione...this is serious. You're going to change into something else entirely, and you won't know how to control it. We have to tell someone who can help you."

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-10-23 12:04 am UTC (link)
Dexter actually had a pretty good idea what was going to happen to Dione. She was going to turn into a monster and it was going to get her killed. Even though she wasn't dead yet, Dante was responsible for killing her. He hated the man for that. Absolutely hated him. Yet there was nothing Dexter could do about him. The sense of pointlessness was strong with him. He could hate, he could feel, but he couldn't effect. This world was nothing for him but suffering because he was within reach of the one thing he wanted, all the time, but couldn't touch it. Couldn't enjoy it really.

Dione cowered in Sascha's grip, glad to be touched by someone, held. For a woman who loved to be touched, she was too afraid of doing it herself. So she gravitated toward those who touched her, those who reached across the gap toward her.

"He wanted me stronger. Strong enough to be near him." Her voice was quiet, still somewhat adoring. Dione listened to Sascha's heartbeat and tried to let herself be soothed by it. Forget that he was saying what Dante did was wrong. Just let herself be with Sascha and accept that he was talking to her, sharing his company with her. She didn't want him to go. "Strong enough for him to love me."

Pathetic broken little being who wanted nothing more than to be able to hold onto something and have it not slip away. Except every connection ran through her fingers like sand. Dione slipped her arms around him until it was an actual hug and rested her head against him.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-10-23 03:03 am UTC (link)
Sascha closed his eyes and gave a sigh of resignation as Dione wrapped her arms around him. She'd heard his words, but obviously rejected their meaning. Exactly what he'd hoped she wouldn't do.

But she was still here with him, and she obviously desired his company even if she dismissed his warning. That was fine, he could handle that. Sascha knew how to give comfort, which was exactly what Dione seemed to need at the moment.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked neutrally after several minutes, choosing not to acknowledge her last statement about Danté and love. Dione's delusional devotion obviously wasn't something he could combat with words alone, but at the very least, he could make sure she saw to her own most basic needs. That much protection he could give.

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-10-24 04:48 pm UTC (link)
Maybe someday she would be able to explain in some way that made actual sense to other people, unfortunately, now was most certainly not that time. How do you tell someone with a preset notion that they might be wrong? Usually be opening your mouth and saying so, but Dione was rarely one to openly contradict people, even if she thought what they had to say was absolutely unbelievable. The sigh of resignation seemed more one of melancholy, and a small part of her grasped that as meaning he understood her. He understood how much it hurt to be given someone by someone important because you weren't quite enough on your own.

Dione didn't know that the whole point of loving someone was that you were solely enough and if they had to fix you in order to make you enough, they don't really love you, the only love an idea of what you could possibly be. Perhaps if she had ever felt this way toward someone else, or go through those formative heart breaks most endured during their teen years in order to learn that important lesson she wouldn't be so far behind now.

Have you eaten anything? The question made her have to think. Eating and sleeping were things she did on no consistent schedule. They happened when they happened and sometimes that was a long time coming.

"Earlier." When earlier, Dione wasn't sure and thus didn't say. Dexter knew that earlier was eight hours ago. This was causing Dione to lose the ability to look after herself, and he had lost so much ground with her thanks to his disapproval of the man she'd fallen for that it was the best he could do to get her to do anything. He nudged and reminded, but he couldn't make her do. His hands were tied and it made him crazy.

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[info]bohemiarhapsody
2009-11-07 11:22 pm UTC (link)
Sascha had certainly seen his share of love and heartbreak- hell, even a bit of the unrequited variety back in his younger days!- but Dione would have been sadly mistaken to assume he could understand what she was currently going through. Even if he were still dredging through her thoughts, they would only have earned her a measure of pity.

He wanted to help her see the sort of darkness she was chasing, but the blindness she was suffering from now had nothing to do with her eyes and everything to do with her mind, with her heart. It was distressing that, for all his supposed telepathic abilities, Sascha still couldn't quite get through to her. He wasn't sure what would, really, but he was determined not to give up just yet. Not when Dione was obviously in over her head in more ways than one.

He wasn't satisfied with Dione's answer when it finally came, and he pulled away from her as he turned to head for the kitchen. "Well, I haven't had dinner yet, and I hate to eat alone. Might as well cook for two, am I right?"

Not that he had much experience in that department, but surely some burned/undercooked/slightly inedible food was better than no food, wasn't it? Couldn't be that difficult to figure out. Sascha opened a few cabinets and then closed them just as quickly once he realized they were practically bare. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for- maybe something would jump out at him and make it that much easier.

"Anything in particular that you like, sugar? I'm pretty decent when it comes to salads..." He hoped Dione wouldn't be too offended that he was very much making himself at home.

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[info]audiomorbid
2009-11-08 09:24 pm UTC (link)
Dione was a bit surprised by his movements and the idea of him cooking for her. She'd been essentially taking care of herself for months, the idea of someone she actually knew cooking for her was alien. Not that she hadn't eaten in the restaurant with Dante, but she didn't know any of the people who worked there. Thus they were not people she knew cooking for her and certainly not in her own home. The way he talked made it sound rather like when her Father said he was going to cook. Those were nights when her mother was away and it usually ended up being microwaved pizza after he burned something spectacularly on the stove.

There was nothing that Mr. Castel did without doing it spectacularly. Once the fire department had even come after he set fire to the stove while trying to fry chicken. That had been a very, very interesting night to say the least. Dexter remembered that night very well. The three of them standing out on the lawn in their pjs and dear Mother driving up to the sound of sirens. Luckily, it had only damaged the kitchen and even that not too much. It gave Mrs. Castel a chance to modernize, so after she got through berating her husband for turning his back on fry oil and setting her kitchen on fire, the elder lady Castel was rather content.

"I eat what I bring home," she said quietly, drifting along behind him to stand on the edge of the kitchen listening as he went through cupboards. "What do you want to cook?" Her need to please was showing again.

It would have been easy to explain why there was almost no food in her house. If she didn't eat things within a few days, they started to smell bad forgotten on the counters or in cabinets, so she brought home very little. It brought up the idea that she truly lived alone and dealt only with what she herself needed.

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