InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "R-E-S-P-E-E-K!"

Bellum Anon (bellum_anon) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-03-21 23:25:00

Entry tags:

plot: fables

Fables Plot Close
Who: Everyone who wants to participate!
What: The End of the Fables plot. Post your change backs here if you so choose!
Where: Bellum Letale
When: 11:59 PM
Warnings: All sorts?

At 11:59 PM exactly, the building twitched again, shuddering and shaking through time and space, a shift so quick that it was nearly invisible. Stories, fairy tales, and fables began to go back into their boxes, closed off from where they'd bled into reality, into the selves of the tenants. The building righted itself as clock hands shuddered over to a minute to midnight.

Then things began to revert to their normal selves, whether they liked it or not. First the hallways, then the doors, and then the people, one by one. Rich finery spun back into 100% cotton, rage melted into confusion and despair. Only the memories stayed, unchanged by the building's influence. And, despite the fights and and the strangeness and the magic of the day, the memories the day left behind may have been the worst of the aftermath.

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706, 11:57 pm.

deductively
2010-03-24 06:42 am UTC (link)

The scent caught Eliot off guard. Years of practice had helped him build up an immunity of sorts to Iris's tantalizing smell, but he wasn't exactly himself right now. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed himself off his chair and had crossed the table to crouch next to Irene's seat.

"You are not alone, Miss Adler," he said gently, the formal address incongruous with his impulsive behavior. "Regardless of how I... act, you will always have a friend in me." Holmes was talking about both Eliot and himself in turns, but he knew Irene would catch his meaning.

The sight of the tears continued to unnerve him, and he instinctively reached a hand out to her arm, making the only attempt he knew to comfort her.

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Re: 706, 11:57 pm.

nightmrholmes
2010-03-24 06:54 am UTC (link)

She sniffed. Just once, a delicate little sniff with one knuckle under her nose, but she managed to get herself under control and the tears did not actually spill over. The effort appeared to cost her, because when he came down to her level her eyes followed his face and she gave him a watery smile. She abandoned the coffee cup and her hand was still extraordinarily warm from the crockery as she put it over his. "Thank you," she said, quietly. "I do not like not being myself. But at least you are very much... you." The smile was a little stronger now, and she leaned a little forward to say it, as if it was a private confidence between them.

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706, 11:59 pm.

deductively
2010-03-24 07:14 am UTC (link)

Eliot smiled, this time wider. There was a strange battle of wills within him, and he was glad she approved of Holmes having the upper hand. Something grew in his chest when he felt the warmth of her hand on his own, and he too leaned a little forward, so that there only inches between them. "There is no one else I would rather you be," he said confidently, his eyes filling with warmth as he tilted his head to the side. He considered telling Irene that she wasn't just the woman to him, but the only woman for him, but decided against it, out of fear of offending her.

"And regardless of how he acts under other circumstances, I am sure he feels the same way."

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Re: 706, 11:59 pm.

nightmrholmes
2010-03-24 07:27 am UTC (link)

That made her laugh, and both Iris and Irene had a light, musical laugh of easy delight. It was the proper laugh of a trained singer, but Irene's was a little deeper, perhaps slightly less feminine, and went on a little longer. Once she conquered her mirth, the tears were gone entirely, and her gaze was unmistakably fond too. She put out both hands and curved her palms over his roughened cheeks, showing only more amusement at his slightly unshaven state, and without even a hint of hesitation, she bent closer and planted a firm but sweet kiss right on the center of his mouth. She tasted like vanilla.

Somewhere, a clock started to chime.

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706, 12:00 am

deductively
2010-03-24 07:59 am UTC (link)

It took Eliot only a moment to respond, but he caught the back of her head gently, holding her close to deepen the kiss. Neither Holmes nor Eliot could account for this particular action, as it was highly unusual for either of them.

The change started in his stomach, and spread outwards with each chime of the clock. Holmes's control weakened with every toll, and Eliot slipped in behind the wheel. The clock finished striking midnight, and Eliot's clothes changed back from the Victorian garb to his own pants and cotton shirt.

The realization hit him like a slow-moving pile of bricks. He was kissing her. He was kissing her. Forcing himself to pull away, Eliot got to his feet and reeled backwards out of breath.

What the fuck had just happened?

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Re: 706, 12:00 am

nightmrholmes
2010-03-24 08:48 pm UTC (link)

She knew the second the kiss changed into something else, and if there was any doubt of her affection before, there was certainly none now. The kiss became hot, and her head pleasantly light, and everything was just starting to float in the most pleasant fashion when something brought her down to earth quite quickly. She was aware of her hair first, the brush of her hair over her neck and shoulders as it came down. When he abruptly pulled away with surprising force, Iris sat back in her chair, a look of utter confusion washing over her unpainted face. She was dressed even more informally than Irene had been, in a pair of turquoise blue pajama bottoms, white socks, and a thin white spaghetti strap shirt that she almost certainly never wore in company. She wore nothing else, no jewelry, not even anything to hold her hair up. Iris took care with her appearance and so garbed she felt utterly vulnerable, magnified by the fact that one second ago she had been the exact opposite. All she did was sit there, blinking naturally thick lashes and trying to overcome the vague impression of dizzying happiness that had just slipped out of her reach.

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706, 12:00 am

deductively
2010-03-27 04:53 pm UTC (link)

"What the fuck?" Eliot muttered under his breath, as his brain scrambled to make sense of the change that had just occurred. He was himself again. The other presence - Sherlock Holmes, unless his sanity was beginning to slip - was no longer there, leaving Eliot all alone to make sense of all of the events of the day.

Because despite the changes, Eliot remembered everything that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours. Meeting Micah - who was somehow also John Watson - and the old lady, as well as Iris, who in a cruel twist of fate was Irene Adler. Eliot knew Holmes had feelings for Iris's counterpart as surely as he knew the backs of his own hands. If Eliot had had any idea what being in love with someone felt like, he might even have gone as far as saying that was what Holmes felt for the woman.

But with Holmes gone, Eliot was the one left dealing with the residual damage. Like the under-dressed woman sitting on his kitchen chair. The woman whose soft hair he could still feel beneath his fingers, whose taste still lingered in his mouth.

Oh this was just fucking peachy.

"When did you move here?" he finally asked. His voice was unusually flat, giving nothing away of the chaos within.

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Re: 706, 12:00 am

nightmrholmes
2010-03-28 07:58 am UTC (link)

It took a strong sense of personality to do what Iris did for her profession. In order to be someone else, you had to know yourself; you just had to be able to put yourself away sometimes. The worst parts of Iris' life were when her true self, the secret self, ended up buried so deep she almost couldn't find it when she needed it. This was different--Irene was different. She was Irene, and Irene was her. It was like that secret self just wasn't the same. 'Disoriented' wasn't a strong enough word for that jarring realization.

Eliot made it worse. Iris secretly acknowledged her weakness for the man, she understood that something about the combination of that much intelligence, tenacity, and veracity was both unassailable and irresistible. She had known of Warren Eliot for a long time, and she had known him for years. She'd certainly made his professional life hell where she could, but she knew that it was because she couldn't leave the man alone. This time she had tried to keep him out of it, but.... silly words like fate and destiny flew through her mind.

Her eyes focused on him. She tried to resume her scattered control but had little success. Her hands came up her arms and she brought her knees up to hide her torso. Her skin prickled, and she wished he would touch her again without that revulsion in his eyes. "I... before you did."

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706, 12:00 am

deductively
2010-03-29 10:59 pm UTC (link)

Eliot narrowed his eyes at Iris, almost as much out of habit as due to the situation. He watched her draw into herself, but was not sure whether the vulnerability was real or not. He could not be sure that Iris was as disoriented by the change as he was, and if anyone could manage to put on an act in a span of thirty seconds, it was Iris Thorpe.

"How long have you been out?" He knew the chances of her answering the question truthfully were slim, but if the confusion on her face were genuine, then this might be the only chance he would have at getting an honest response out of her.

Eliot drew a sharp breath as another thought hit him. He dropped back down into the chair he had previously been occupying (which was safely on the opposite end of the table as Iris), and studied the woman silently for a moment.

"Did you-" he hesitated, something fairly rare for him, "did you know about this thing?" The words 'connection between alternate fictional personalities' was still a little too strange for Eliot to say out loud.

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Re: 706, 12:00 am

nightmrholmes
2010-03-30 02:21 am UTC (link)

"I left... They..." she stopped. No, she wasn't going to say it. Not because the defense was automatic, but because her thoughts were too scattered to pull the full phrase. Her eyes snapped up, lightning through gray storm clouds. "Not even I'm that good." She pulled her hand through her hair at her temple in two short jerks and then rolled quickly to her feet from the chair. "I have to go." She looked straight over his head for a moment, contemplating the wall, then her expression became solid, confident, slightly distracted. As if she'd just remembered something in that moment. "Now. But thanks so much for your hospitality." Her tongue flicked out and moved over her lower lip, a little more leisurely than was really necessary. "Yes." Her shoulder twitched once, as if she wanted to move her arms back into their defensive position, but she quelled the urge almost as soon as she noticed it. "Goodnight." And she turned neatly on one heel, long and controlled in the thin clothes, and walked out the door.

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