Vanessa Ives (motherofevil) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-07-30 21:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | ethan chandler, vanessa ives |
WHO: Vanessa Ives and Ethan Chandler
WHAT: Vanessa "investigates" after the full moon
WHEN: Backdated to full at beginning of July
WHERE: Their place in regular Tumbleweed
WARNINGS: Low
Ethan lay on the cold, concrete flooring that lined the cellar of Malcolm Murray's residence. Fingers twitching against the rough surface, the man gave an audible groan of discomfort as his body began to prompt his conscious awake. His wrists were still bound in the shackles that he'd placed around them the night prior, just moments before the sun had set, with the key tucked in his pant pockets. He was still uncomfortable with this arrangement. Back in London, in his supposed proper time, everyone of the Murray household was aware of his condition. Keatany was there to guide him through the transformation. Murray was aware of his transformations. There was no need to sneak around. While he still contained himself, for the safety of the few left that he cared about, he didn't need to be secretive as he felt was necessary here and now.
Vanessa was from a point where she didn't know the truth. And, like a coward, he'd yet to find words to tell her. Instead he'd snuck around like boy filled with shame. Pushing himself up with his hands, he contorted his body until he was able to slip his fingers into his pocket, and pull the key from it's depths. Slowly, he unclasped his restraints and rose to his full height. He didn't need a mirror to know how looked in that moment. He was all too familiar with the way his skin would be bruised or cut and how his clothes would be tattered in spots, from where claws had slashed at fabric, and he'd be covered in dirt. Hoping that it was still early enough that he'd be unseen, he moved for the door, which he'd had magically enchanted the month prior. Once locked from the inside, it was only possible to be unlocked from inside as well. This prevented Vanessa, or anyone else, from entering the cellar and stumbling upon him.
It kept her safe.
Emerging up the stairs, he could just barely see the light beginning to creep in through the cracks of the window. His body ached all over and all he could think of was his desire to make it to his room and get back to sleep. He'd have to set an alarm on the telephone. He wouldn't want to sleep the day away. His disappearances were already feeling suspicious enough. Once on the main floor, he quietly moved for the stairs that led upstairs to the main bedrooms, where his was waiting for him.
…
Something was amiss. It had been there ever since she had arrived, a fine tremor of difference in both Ethan and Victor that Vanessa couldn’t precisely put a name to. At first she had been find to dismiss it as just being the result of being in a new world. She wasn’t made for happiness, but perhaps here they could could be something closer to it …
But at the onslaught of Victor’s confession, Vanessa had refocused. Their demons still chased them; and she, perhaps best of all, knew how demons slipped under the skin when one was complacent.
And so she needed to start paying attention again. She sensed that frisson within Ethan that had been there since the very beginning, which they all seemed to be eventually aware of even if they didn’t know quite what it was. But that was because, before, they were hunting her demons. Now, she listened for his.
She stood in the hallway as he moved toward the bedrooms, and she wondered if she dared approach him now; but subtlety had never been her strong suit.
“You’re up early,” she said, “or late, depending on how one looks at it.”
…
Had it been any other time of the month, and not the following morning after his transformation, perhaps Ethan would have been alert enough to have sensed that Vanessa was in the hallway. His figure came to a stop, his back still towards her, but even in the darkness it was easy to feel the shift in his demeanor. His back had straightened and he stood in silent thought before pivoting on the sole of his boots to turn in her direction.
He'd not prepared a lie or an alibi as he'd done the previous month. There'd been no facade of trying to portray illness, which had allowed him to retire early while the sun was still in the sky. No. He'd simply wandered off on his own, hoping that she'd not question him seeking time alone. Clearing his throat, he made a quick decision of which direction to take his answer.
"Late," he replied, because it seemed the easier of the two options. Both were true in a way, weren't they? "Is it early in your case?" He inquired, a ping of guilt felt as he considered the notion that perhaps she'd been waiting up. He hoped this wasn't the case.
…
She couldn’t help but be quietly amused and touched by his answer; it called to her, the answering part of him that had always been there. It would have been easy to let this be, she knew. But she had never been one to let things be. She always needed to know.
“Late, too, I suppose,” she admitted. She hadn’t been waiting up for him, particularly. The dark had always invited a sort of restlessness in her. The world turned different in night. Quieter, clearer, more focused, and she had always enjoyed it. Time seemed more her own during the dark hours. And she had used that time to wander her thoughts until she had heard him move back through the house.
“What is you’re not telling me?” she asked finally.
…
A hint of a frown crossed over his expression. He'd hoped for the other answer. Now the sense of guilt increased, whether it was because of his doing or not. But guilt was a feeling that he'd long learned to live with; paired with his aptitude for causing disappointment.
He bowed his head.
There were many things that he'd not told Vanessa. Wasn't there a point, not that long ago, when secrets hadn't been such a common place between him and her? Of course there had been. And, from his perspective, it had been right before he'd given himself over to the law. Everything had been laid out in his time spent with her leading up to that.
And now he was back to keeping truths from her. Lifting his head, he looked to her with an unhappy expression. There was so much he wasn't telling her but even he knew she was referring to his disappearances. He had no cover up. Instead, he stood without an answer, letting the silence remain. His eyes did not leave her now.
…
Vanessa felt a tremor of doubt when he didn’t answer. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pushed. Perhaps, she should let him be. But the question had been asked now, and it would hover between them until she had some answer. It was too late to turn back now.
So, she remained silent in turn, watching him in the dark.
…
His frown grew in measure with the silence. The question was hanging in the air now and he had two options. He could be truthful or he could walk away. If he chose the second of the options, he was chosing the possibility of putting distance between him and Vanessa, which was the complete opposite of his real desires. He'd been in mourning for her for months before they'd come here, pull from two different points in time. He wasn't going to push her away.
It'd have to be the first of the options.
He took in a breath, his gaze still upon her, before he spoke. "I'm keeping you safe," he stated. It was a beginning of an answer but not a complete one.
…
“I didn’t know I needed sheltering, Mr. Chandler,” Vanessa answered in turn, although she knew better than that. It didn’t surprise her at all to know that Ethan or Sir Malcolm had made decisions that affected her because they believed to be doing them for her own good. It made her prickle a little, if only because she had always endeavored to hold her own, the same as any member of their little band. Perhaps being in a future era where the divisions between men and women were even less had further enhanced that thinking.
...
"I'm not doing that," he responded, quickly, though without any added emotion. It didn't sound angry. It simply sounded like the truth as he viewed it. There was a difference between the two, was there not?
He moved towards her now, partially so the distance would not be so wide, but also so they could look upon each other closer. He said no further words in this moment and instead moved his hands to the button up he'd put on when he woke from his transformations. Fingers delicately moved to unbutton the top two buttons, as his eyes remained upon her, and once they were loose, he pulled the fabric of his shirt to the side. Upon doing so, the fresh slash's against his skin were just visible in the early morning light, paired with a scattering of bruises.
"I am keeping you safe," he repeated, hoping that understanding would be had.
…
She remained where she was when he stepped in, closer. Her gaze dropped to where he guided it, and she could see clearly that he was injured. Her irritation with his refusal to tell her what was happening remained, simmering just below the surface. But it was overshadowed for her concern for him.
“Let me take care of you in return at least, then,” she said, turning back around to head toward the bathroom, hoping that he would follow her.
…
He had a thought of refusal. He knew his injuries would heal, as they always did, with patience and time. But he bit back the feeling and instead sighed heavily as he followed her lead towards the bathroom. He did not move to rebutton his shirt since he suspected it would need to come clean off. And a frown set in as he thought of the fact that the bathroom would have better light and likely illuminate how bad this looked upon every morning following the full.
"We never discussed this," he spoke, as he followed, his head casting down to gaze upon the floor.
…
Vanessa felt some amount of tension ease when he agreed to follow her. At least there was some definition to this role.
He wasn’t wrong. He did look worse in the light of the bathroom, and she could only wonder over what it was that assailed him. Ethan and Victor had been chosen, in part, for their flirtation with the underbelly of the world, but she had never expected to grow this close to either of them. The same demons they had been chosen for now were what Vanessa feared for both of them. (In truth, it also made her feel a little unsteady; their monsters had come with them. Where were hers? Lurking, still? Surely, never gone. They disappeared only long enough that she led her guard down.)
She moved his shirt away and began to dab gently at the gash, trying to clean it. Her eyes moved upward when he spoke.
“What am I supposed to that if I am not allowed to know the secret?” Vanessa asked.
…
He obediently allowed for her to move the fabric away from his wound, his eyes upon her every movement. He considered casting a glance to the looking glass but decided against it. He did not need to see the fullness of the damage. He was accustomed to it after all. As she tried to clean the gash, he sucked in a breath through his teeth, but said nothing in protest.
His eyes shifted so he could look into her and his words felt lost to him once again. He gave a small shake of his head in protest. "I was referring to home," he whispered, but he did not want to elaborate. If too many questions were asked about that train of thought, it could lead to even deeper subjects the he did not want to discuss. "You'd uncovered the secret there. I didn't have to put it into words," he explained further. It was admitting to his demon that he had difficult of.
"I caused this," he finally added, eyes looking down at his bare chest.