aarde (aarde) wrote in dp_past, @ 2010-01-13 02:51:00 |
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Who: Gideon Blackthorne.
NPCs: Cecily, his wife.
When: Nine years and six months ago.
Where: Gideon's former property in Lybvian.
What: An argument with his wife goes out of hand and in anger, Gideon destroys one of the few things he holds dear.
Rating & Warnings: PG for violence
Gideon drew in a deep breath as he desperately tried not to lose his temper or god forbid, lash out. Lashing out to a woman was an unforgivable act that he himself would never commit, or so he hoped, but sweet Holy mother of God, she wasn't making it easy on him. As the woman raved and stated her point quite clearly, the temptation to strike some sense into her strengthened itself with ferocity few would ever expect from him. But that wouldn't make him the man his mother wanted him to be, now would it? His smoky blue eyes carefully followed every move his beautiful wife made, as he drew in one more deep breath. He could do it, he was sure of it. He could be the better person in this situation, even if it took the patience of a saint. But a saint, he was not and would never be. Demon. The word said it all, didn't it? Haunted by their innermost desires, his race was. Driven by a thirst for something Gideon could not name, but knew well and being married didn't make him dead, didn't miraculously wipe away his tumultuous, although secret, escapades into the city's nightlife. How else had he come up with the idea to start up a club like Royale Flush? They were subject to his desires, but he had never hit a woman before. And he didn't want to believe in those words - that there was a first time for everything. His mind no longer registered the words that were thrown at him. Small mercies, Gideon still believed in them. Inside these four walls, this could be contained. But what if this had happened out on the street, in front of the ever-present paparazzi's ever lurking lenses? His hand quickly brushed his hair out of his eyes before he ran it through his hair. This was bad. If allowed to continue, could spiral out of control pretty damn fast. She liked to take liberties in her life, that he'd noticed pretty quickly. And it had been endearing at first, sure it had been, nor had he tired of them. But life was different now. Everything was just ... different and he liked it no more than she did. He hated it, in fact, but that was the way the life of a Blackthorne was. Filled with obligations one grew to dislike. And now she too, was a Blackthorne. "I said, get dressed," Gideon repeated once more, as she blessed him with a moment's worth of silence, long enough for him to actually speak. "We'll be late. Please." He closed his eyes as the shouting started anew, only to open them when he heard the familiar sound of breaking glass. Inquisitively, he looked around the room: was this a result of an uncontrolled aspect of his powers, now unleashed by the anger he felt inside? After all, it was possible. Bigger and much taller things had been broken in a means to control the anger that he felt so freely, over just about anything. But now, surely he had more control than this? His eyes rested upon the broken remains of what he'd known to be a wedding gift; a crystal vase gifted to them by one of the important demon families that had attended the ceremony, but their name escaped him for now. If he was expected to remember each name with each gift they had received, then they were sorely mistaken, but it didn't make him any less grateful: their gifts did do a nice gift of filling up this house. But this had not been his doing. Gideon could split wood and and break stone, but not glass. Not directly, anyway. A disgruntled sound came up from low in his throat. Was this an omen? A sign of times to come? Would this be their marriage? Broken, irreparable, ready to be swept up and thrown into the bin? No. He refused for that to let to happen. Failure was unacceptable and she would have no hand in it, either. His eyes finally swept over the dinner table in search for more possible damage; servants that had been supposed to clear it off after dinner had vanished at the first sign of trouble, which probably had been for the best. They less they noticed, the better. But a searching gaze turned into a frown as he scanned the table, feeling that something was amiss. An item was missing, but what? A frustrated groan, coming no doubt from his beautiful wife, alerted him just in time to see the knife in her hand. Impulsively he reached up and winced visibly when his hand closed around the sharp blade. Sharp blue eyes looked down into darker, equally angry eyes. "Cecily." His voice was strong, demanded attention from a wife who clearly had just about lost her mind and with a little effort, he was able to reclaim the knife and tossed it onto the table without much thought. "Get dressed." Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek. Gideon had to swallow hard and take a step back before he could just let her walk away, like nothing had happened. Again, it probably was for the best, especially in the wake of such an important function they were to attend. As the furniture in the room grumbled under the weight of his powers, he snatched up a clean cloth napkin from the table and wrapped it around the gash on his hand. The wound would heal long before they got to the function and the red hand print on his cheek was already gone, that much he knew. But his anger? He closed his eyes and with one more deep breath, opened the balcony doors and walked straight into the garden. While it never would resemble the royal gardens he had grown up in, he was still proud of what he had achieved here. Seedlings grew easily under his care, the soil was fertile, the flowers greeted him with warmth and joy but when he swept his arm through the air in nothing but unbridled anger, all the life in the garden he had worked so hard to keep was lost. Plants withered in front of his eyes, leaves rained down on him, the grass turned brown and in defeat, Gideon dropped his arm and hung his head. Was this what it was going to take to get through this marriage? A dying garden every time they had a spat? The dying plants whispered to him words of pain, but Gideon turned a deaf ear to them. There was not enough time to fix this, no matter how much their whispers pierced his heart. "After I get back," Gideon promised them quietly. |