Morningstar Manor

Isabella decided that she was far too easily distracted today as she caught herself doodling in the margin of her appointment book instead of filling it out for the third time.
Sighing, she closed the book and sat back. What was up with her?

Holiday shopping blew. Trevor had never really had to do it, not in the years he'd been married, anyway, and now he found himself in front of a display of really hideous glass clowns that made his eyes hurt. "I'm not sure my mom would like that," he said to Sterrin. "I'm not sure anyone would like that."

( Read more... )

Her plans for tonight had been cancelled, but since Sterrin had already promised Declan she'd be out, she put on a pink sports bra and a pair of black yoga pants and went down to the gym.
Now,  fresh off a 10 mile stint on the treadmill, she was drinking some water and preparing  for the weights.

He'd asked here here because he couldn't quite manage to see her whenever she came back to the apartment -- and he knew she did. And because no matter what had happened between them, they needed to talk. He needed to see her. So now he waited, nervous, at the table he'd told her to meet him at.

Sterrin had went in for her lecture from the boss lady today, but had been told by a very stone-faced secretary that she would have to come back later. Shrugging, Sterrin had started to leave but had gotten distracted by the name on a plaque in the hall.
Trevor Wentworth.
She'd promised him some fun, hadn't she? Sterrin was in the mood for fun, she always was, so she went up to the top floor and found his secretary's desk empty. It was probably lunch time anyway, so she knocked on the door to see if he was in.

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting, wasn't it?
Goblins, ghosts, and one big freaked out brother that was trying to hide the fact that he was gay for the time being. How adorable.
The place was nice though, Sterrin decided as she climbed out of Declan's car and walked in, wearing a black cashmere and wool coat with a black sweaterdress beneath and serious heels. It was also decidedly full of pretty, which was going to mean lots and lots of fun later. 
A glance across the lobby revealed the coffee shop that Declan had been talking about. She could definately use a cup of coffee.

Isabella had her earbuds in and her iPod turned way up, a carton of Chinese food sitting on her desk as she stood looking through the closet in her office on her lunch break. She was happy. Insanely so.

Niles walked into the Manor with his head down and the collar of his coat pulled up around the sides of his face. He kept his busted knuckles in his pocket as he walked past the font desk and to the elevator, stepping inside before anyone had enough time to get a good look at him. He ached all over and he probably looked as bad as he felt. Did he have anything in his apartment to deal with this? He didn't think so.
On a whim, he hit the number for Elspeth's floor. She'd likely lecture him, but he knew she'd clean him up too.

*****

Anastasia lay on Gavin's bed with him, fingers smoothing through his hair. They'd come in here to just lay together as they often did now and she'd told him about the studio that was being built behind the gallery for her. It was warm and sweet, like it always was with him,  and she couldn't stop herself from pressing a kiss to his mouth lightly, even as she wondered what time Trevor would get home.

Trevor was in a bad mood. Very, very bad.

He'd called Isabella four times. Texted her twice. He would be damned if he chased after her like some dog going after a bitch. Fine, she didn't want to have anything to do with him? Fuck that. Fuck her.

Now he was in some dark place he didn't know the name of or care about, drinking expensive Scotch and fuming.

A coffee shop! They had a coffee shop right here in the building. And history. Sibyl walked into the lobby, and right into layers and layers of local history.

She fell in love instantly.

Stunned, she looked around, and didn't find anybody whom the description of Del Avilar fit; then she looked at the big clock and realised she was ten minutes early.

Perfect for getting to know the coffee shop!

Only two minutes later, she was seated at a table near the door with a large latte, watching the people of her new temporary home with great curiosity.

The boardroom here looked like something out of a movie and this was definately some sort of cliche, Isabella decided as she sat down at the large conference table in the main boardroom at Wentworth Inc. wearing a gray dress and her typical shoes. She was the only woman there amongst at least twenty men that were old enough to be her father, and already she'd been called "baby" at least twice, once while the guy joked about having her bring them all coffee. It made her blood boil. Not that she showed it.
She was rather curious about seeing Mr. Wentworth, though as she had never met him.  She assumed he was the one sitting at the head of the conferance table looking disarmingly like Trevor, except about twenty five years older. It was uncanny. The cockiness, the way he sat in his chair, the way he laughed... It was all Trevor.
Trevor...
He'd probably be here too. She hadn't seen him since that night in the garage when they'd...
She shifted in her seat and picked up the glass of water that'd been sat in front of her, taking a sip. This should be interesting.

Trevor sat at the kitchen table, beer in one big fist, shoulders slumped. It had been a long day. But a good one. Lots accomplished, all of it stuff to be proud of. For the first time in a long while, he didn't stiffen with barely suppress anger when he entered the Manor. Now, he sat and relaxed, letting contentment fill him.

Anastasia had always done the laundry, but when he started coming home with questionable stains on his trousers, Trevor had taken to doing his own dirty wash. He'd told her it was to give her a break so she had more time for painting.

Most of him actually meant it, that was the thing.

Now he tossed armfuls of clothes into a washer, his face set in concentration.

Trevor couldn't believe how great all this was going. All of it. Anastasia was like no girl he'd ever been with before and he .... loved her. He loved her.

He grinned, pumping a fist in the air, and then felt for the small velvet box in his pocket. Tonight was the night.

Summer time and all the honeys were out in their little nothings. A good time to go for a stroll around his domain.

Also, it was time to give things a nudge. "Things" that he could feel as a growling roil of discontent writhing within the fabric of the building. Everything needed a break from time to time, their subsequent re-confinement would be that much more painful.

So he left his apartment and passed along the corridor. He lay a hand on one door, causing the varnish to crawl and blister, and gave what lay within specific intstructions. it screamed with frustration and Jon snickered as he walked on.

So many lives, so much drama and angst and anguish. So many deaths.

In another place he paused and held his hand over one particular patch of carpet and the blood, long since washed away, welled thick and hot. He walked on licking his fingers.

No part of the Manor was unvisited. In the basement he looked into a long dead face which looked back in terror. But Joy in the Mocha bloomed and blushed as he touched her, her face briefly that of the woman she could have been.

Then he went out into the garden and stood between the two statues - angel and demon - and looked up at the sun.

Did it dim a little?

Quite possibly.

Anastasia had pondered many things while standing in line at the Mocha and then some more at the grocery store, the least of which being her husband's odd actions the past few days. He showered all the time, stayed gone later and later, and was back to ignoring her again.
There was a thick inkling of dread in her gut, a twist of certainty that told her subconcious exactly what was going on, but she couldn't bring herself to listen to it. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she wondered if he'd be there when she got home.

Isabella was sitting at her desk in a black dress of her typial style,  grateful that her morning appointments and interviews were complete so that she could finally take a break and get something to eat. She was fucking starving.

Anastasia was in the bathroom, just finishing blow drying her hair when she heard Gavin leave. She felt her stomach drop. She used to live for moments like this when she and Trevor could be alone together, but not anymore.
Alone time now meant a fight, and she just didn't have it in her to do that tonight. 
She sighed as she ran fingers through her hair and put on a  pale green nightie, wondering if it would be worth it to go out there and try to talk to him, or if the safer bet would be to just go to bed.