InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Keyboards eat your soul."

Ella Claire Gainsborough {Beauty} (bookshelved) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-04-17 19:02:00

Entry tags:

beauty, phantom of the opera

Who: Bran and Ella
What: Retribution
Where: On the way to meet Helena
When: Immediately after all the anon insanity
Warnings: I honestly have no idea. So TBD, but tread lightly because Bran is no angel ~~of music or otherwise~~

Ella had hung up the phone with Helena, and she'd packed an overnight bag and included some items Helena might need or find useful. If her friend needed anything additional, Ella figured she could pick it up for her when Daniel came to get her from the hospital, and she hoped Helena would be willing to come home then too. Being alone wasn't going to help her friend, and Ella would feel safer with Helena back in the building with the moon approaching.

It would be a lie to say fear wasn't also a consideration, especially after the anonymous post and the subsequent posts by Daniel and Rosalie. This anonymous post had scared her in the way others before hadn't; there was something irrational about the mob leader, something that didn't listen to reason, something that felt beyond idle. It sent shivers up Ella's spine, and she made herself a cup of tea that was intentionally soothing before she left the apartment, steeping it longer and longer, until the vines that were inching in at the door disappeared.

She packed a few bags of the tea, just to be safe, since she couldn't control the vines and she had no idea how long the tea would keep them at bay if she was frightened.

She slipped on a coat, and she tucked her dark hair in the hood, and she hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. She considered asking Vlad or William to walk her out, but she couldn't very well hide in her apartment forever, could she? She had a momentary pang of disappointment that Cole hadn't taken responsibility for the posting of the list; it had been his idea, at the urging of his friends and students, and Ella had known it was a bad one. Still, Cole was her friend, and she had the list in her possession, and she'd posted it for him. But the idea hadn't been hers, and she did understand everyone's concerns. She couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt that he'd let her face it alone.

No, not alone, she thought with a little smile as she fed Home and turned out the lights. Daniel, Vlad and Rosalie had taken a stand - even though she knew none of them agreed with the posting of the list.

She locked the door behind her, and she looked both ways before running to the elevator and pushing the button, not a vine in sight (despite her growing nervousness). By the time she was outside the building, her panic had started to calm, and she slipped her iPod buds in her ears and began listening to the audiobook for A Reliable Wife, getting quickly lost in the story of loneliness and solitude.

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lemortvivant
2010-04-18 03:06 am UTC (link)

Ever since his visit to Katya, Bran could feel himself starting to unravel. It began subtly, with brief moments of tension that initially only afflicted small parts of his body at a time, and then progressed into something more. Every time he thought about Phantom, about Lotte, about his life and Erik's life; every muscle in his body would become like a coiled spring threatening to explode. At first he could control it with his music, escaping to the catacombs beneath the building so he could play in silence, but as the days passed he became more and more frustrated. His emotions, lacking proper control, mixed together and continued to build into something that threatened to consume him completely.

Then the anonymous post had come, and he discovered that it was apparently none other than 905 who had been responsible for the fable list. There was mention of a teacher, but he dismissed that - it was Ella who chose to speak out, which was enough validation for him. Lotte was Christine, he was sure of it, but she wasn't on the list. That had to mean that Ella was trying to protect her in some way, protect her from him. As if she had the right to judge, the right to assume that he would hurt her - but oh, that was what they all did. They all lied and cast judgment and stood on their high pedestals as if they were perfect. At least some accepted what they were instead of denying it.

Lotte was different, she was special, and Ella was trying to keep her from him. She was the worst of all, so high and mighty, pretending to be perfect and pure. Bran hated people like that. They infuriated him, because he knew what they really were with their morals and laws and hypocrisy. They all deserved what they got, so willing to dole out cruelty yet so horrified when it happened to them. Oh yes, he'd been kept in the darkness and denied for years; mocked and scorned and forced to do whatever necessary to survive, and yet he was the criminal and they were the fine, upstanding citizens.

He remembered his deal with the resident who called themselves Jack the Ripper, and he couldn't think of a better time to exact his revenge. The anonymous post had been filled with threats against her - if she was smart, she should have seen it coming.

Bran waited, lurking in the shadows of the ninth floor after the anonymous post had died down. She would be scared, he knew; and fear caused people to flee, as though it would help them in some way. He watched as she emerged from the apartment, and when she chose the elevator, he took the stairs. The long black coat he wore had been stolen specifically for its abundance of pockets, which were now filled with the tools of his trade as he silently descended the stairs to the first floor. It was almost too easy, especially when he saw the headphones. Silly, silly Ella.

He was wearing a hood, but beneath that was his true face - what it looked like without the prosthetic skin to cover the scars that devoured the left side of his face, a few stray lines trespassing on the right side. If he was a monster, then why should he hide it? Ella needed to see what she'd brought upon herself. His footsteps were practically soundless on the sidewalk behind her, not that it would have mattered either way. Once he was close enough, he struck - one arm went around her waist to pin her arms to her side, while the other hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams. Bran pulled her into the darkness of the nearest alley, his mind already skipping ahead to the next step: incapacitating her.

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bookshelved
2010-04-18 03:41 am UTC (link)

Ella didn't even have the time to scream, and by the time she had the wherewithal to panic, she was already being pulled into the darkness of the alley. Her vines were sluggish and slow to rise, thanks to the tea she'd been so busy crafting for the past weeks, and they barely managed to keep up with the speed which she was being pulled.

She knew, knew, knew that this was the doing of the anonymous poster, the one that had threatened her, the one who had set the building on her. Even if it wasn't them physically, it was because of the claims, because of the link being posted, because of everything.

She tried to kick, and she tried to bite his palm, and her teeth just managed to catch his skin and bite down hard enough to draw blood. Despite her fear, Ella had grown up hard, and she wasn't going to go without a fight, even if her fear was mounting fast enough to send the vines at his ankles faster - thin, paltry things, but there nonetheless.

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lemortvivant
2010-04-18 05:23 am UTC (link)

Bran didn't notice the vines at first, too occupied with quelling any sort of a struggle to pay much attention to something that had the advantage of darkness. He was stronger than her, even though he noted that she did put up a fight - which he'd expected, of course. He only had a moment to process the feel of teeth against his skin before she bit down, and even though the rush of pain was nothing unfamiliar, it still drew a hiss of pain from between clenched teeth.

"Why do you all fight so hard at the very end?" His voice was lower than it usually was, with a gravelly undertone to it that, among his other voices, he'd developed during his time with the circus and worked on since. "You never fight while you're alive, but only when you face death does it finally sink in. And everyone is always afraid." His grip on her waist tightened to a painful degree, and only then did he feel the vines on his ankles.

"What--" He scowled, his attention momentarily distracted. "Well well. What do we have here?" The arm around her waist shifted upward so his hand could grip her throat, while the hand covering her mouth moved away. "Scream, girl, and I'll choke you right here." There was a hypodermic needle in his pocket, filled with a high enough dosage of a sedative to make her putty in his hands. He didn't need her unconscious to get her where he needed - just submissive enough to go along without a fight.

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bookshelved
2010-04-18 05:35 am UTC (link)

She screamed anyway, despite his threat to choke her, despite his comments which led her to believe he really meant to kill her (maybe because of them). She screamed at the top of her lungs, because if she was going to die, it wasn't going to be without a fight, even if she was crying all over his hand. His hand on her waist was an excruciating, blind pain whenever she sucked in a breath, and she was starting to see stars at the edges of her vision, but she could sense the vines moving higher now, faster, and she was glad for them, she actually tried to coax them higher and faster in desperation, even voicing her plea.

She didn't even consider telling him Cole had suggested she post the list, didn't betray Lotte or the students. She didn't even call for Daniel. She didn't want him going after anyone else, she just wanted to live through this. That was all, that was all.

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lemortvivant
2010-04-18 06:22 am UTC (link)

Bran was not a man of second chances, and when Ella screamed he squeezed her throat tightly enough to cut off any further attempts at screaming for help. "What did I say?" For good measure he shoved her against the brick wall, nearly tripping over the vines that seemed to have suddenly increased in number - and in strength. Fighting them only made the damned things constrict, and suddenly an idea came to him, so absurd that it just might work. It was said that music soothes the savage beast, so why couldn't it apply to plants? He'd avoided being attacked by a wolf once, years ago, by singing to it; and miraculously it had worked. The same concept might work here.

The first song that came to mind was something from one of Lotte's tapes, but he barely had time to consider the appropriateness of it. Bran simply began to sing, his voice low enough as to not attract unwanted attention, but not quite so low that it couldn't be heard. He focused on the emotion rather than the words, trying to lull the vines into submission.

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bookshelved
2010-04-18 06:28 am UTC (link)

When he squeezed her throat, she gasped for air, for the ability to scream or speak, and she grabbed at his wrists and tried to pull them away, her nails leaving crescents on his skin, which she then intentionally dragged to cause a streak of skin and blood. She was hyperventilating when he began to sing, and she noticed the vines listening before the singing soothed her. She vaguely recognized the song, and she didn't understand why she suddenly felt calm. He was going to kill her, her mind screamed, but it was if that realization was trapped in molasses, as if it couldn't reach the vines that withered and died at her feet, and all she could do was gasp and sob.

And, finally, beg through the tears, even as her hand and nails reached for his face, for his eyes, for something she could hurt.

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lemortvivant
2010-04-18 07:05 am UTC (link)

Bran almost wanted to laugh when the vines began to withdraw, but he kept singing until they finally became motionless and dead at her feet. A part of him knew it wasn't normal for a voice to have that kind of effect in general, never mind on a plant, but he didn't care. They were out of the way, and Ella was once again defenseless, which was all that mattered.

He was immune to begging, since his own had never accomplished anything in the past. She didn't deserve his mercy, and nothing she said would make it otherwise. "I don't like people who pretend," he said casually, abruptly switching from song to normal words. "And you, my dear, are quite the pretender." Bran ignored her attempts to claw at him, managing to roll back her jacket sleeve and finally withdraw the needle. "Now, this may sting a little, especially if you struggle." Not waiting for a response, he slowly pushed the tip of the needle into the first vein he saw and injected the sedative until the syringe was empty. Now, all he had to do was wait.

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bookshelved
2010-04-18 07:11 am UTC (link)

She fought the sting of the needle as the calming effect of his singing subsided, but it was too late, and she looked down at her arm and then up at his face again. "I don't-" she said, but then she stopped. He was right, she did pretend. Her whole adult life was pretend, but how would he know that. "What was-" she looked down at her arm again, a wooziness starting to overtake her. "What was in that?" she asked, her eyes becoming heavy with sedation, which she fought with all her might. She screamed again, but it was barely a sound. And the vines, which tried to revive, barely managed to lift their brambles as the sedation began to take full effect. "Please, I didn't want to post-"

She couldn't finish the words, her eyelids had grown too heavy, the corners of her vision too dark. She was conscious, but she was having trouble staying on her feet, and a moment later she crumpled at his feet like a rag doll, unable to do anything but look up at him with pleading eyes.

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lemortvivant
2010-04-18 07:31 am UTC (link)

Bran smiled from beneath his hood, regarding the needle for a moment before turning his attention back to her. "What was in this? Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Very soon, in fact." Tonight this poor girl was going to represent everyone who'd ever wronged him in the past, along with everyone who planned to in the future - even those who thought about it. He'd be damned if he was going to let her or someone like her stand between himself and Lotte.

"Didn't want to post? Is that what you think this is about?" He shook his head as she fell to the ground in a heap, nudging her with the toe of his shoe. "This is about so much more than that - but I will admit, it did push things into motion." As he spoke he slid a plastic cover over the needle's tip before shoving it back into his pocket. Kneeling on the ground beside her, Bran deftly covered her mouth with duct tape before pulling her to her feet. "Don't worry, we won't be going far." He pulled one of her arms so it hung loosely around his shoulders, while supporting her with an arm around her waist. The final touch was to pull her hood over her head, obscuring her face from view.

Bran knew the place to go - where no one would disturb them, where no one would hear a thing even if she could make a sound. He half-dragged, half-carried her along the sidewalk, heading back towards Bellum. It was almost maddeningly slow, but he could be patient for now, considering what lay ahead. He waited until he was sure no one was in sight before entering the building, turning sharply in the direction of the basement. But his destination lay even further, down into the catacombs themselves.

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