Eli Pride is Elizabeth Bennet (hybristic) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-02-27 21:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | elizabeth bennet, piers knight |
Who: Eli and Shiloh
What: A meeting and EIT hijinks
Where: Thornewood Castle
When: Today
Warnings: None
Eli had been to Thornewood numerous times in the past. It was one of the places in Seattle that most felt like home to him. It felt like the countryside in a way nothing else in the state did, and he almost imagined he could hear his sisters laughing just over the hills and around the corners of the castle. He’d wanted to bring Preston there for that very reason, wanted to share with him the things he found compelling about antiques and old places, his love for structures that had lived before them and would live after. He’d been there enough times that he could, mostly, control his ability within the old walls, at least while he was awake (normally). Unfortunately, his emotions were running high, and that made his control less than perfect. It meant the guests that weekend had spent breakfast commenting on the castle’s hauntings, and Eli had merely shoved his bangers around on his plate and hoped no one noticed the small blonde child bouncing a ball in the restaurant entryway.
After lunch, Eli set out to explore the castle’s stained glass windows, which had been recently labeled and cataloged by art historians. It was, he suspected, the area of lowest traffic in the castle, and he very much wanted to be alone. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his khaki pants, a cream sweater completing the ensemble, and he stopped in front of a particularly beautiful pane. Something zipped behind him, cold and inhuman, and he wrote it off as memory and did not turn.
Shiloh had a lot on his mind that weekend, worries over his brother, over whatever trouble he was getting himself in, and a multitude of other thoughts that plagued him. Best cure he could think of? Getting away, getting some fresh air, and exploring some of the landmarks around Seattle, in particular, Thornewood Castle. He had heard bits and pieces about the estate, particularly its impressive collection of stained glass windows, and given it’s reputation as the largest collection in the United States, Shiloh wasted little time in working his way into a room for the weekend. The task was not to be taken lightly considering how booked the estate was for weeks in advance.
But there he was, taking in the sights, talking quietly with the other guests that wandered, until Shiloh found himself in a room with one other guest who was also taking in the stained glass. Coming up to stand near him, Shiloh looked up towards the window, hands laced together behind him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his Boston accent something he hardly hid. He was dressed casually for the day, his customary dark brown cords and a cream colored sweater on top, the sleeves pushed up towards his elbows. “Not usually something that piques my interest, but I have to admit it’s breathtaking.”
Eli had to do a double take. The accent was thicker than Preston’s, but the voice was so close, and the profile was even closer, and he turned to face the man beside him and he made it so far as to fist his hand in the front of the man’s sweater before he realized his mistake. The similarity was, indeed, striking, but Eli knew Preston’s defensive posture in the way he knew his own. It was something learned a long time ago, a memory cemented in his mind’s eye when he walked away from Preston as a teenager. The man in front of him was, he thought, older - more lines around the eyes and mouth, less stress there, too, and he let go of the sweater apologetically. “Forgive me. I thought you were someone else.” He had a vague recollection of Preston’s brother existing as a teenager, and he recalled Preston mentioning the fact that he was not in town. That, it seemed, had changed. “Shiloh Preston, I take it?”
The sudden fist in his sweater made Shiloh start in surprise, hands immediately held up in the universal sign of defeat. The man was familiar, a nagging memory that pulled at him, one he couldn’t quite place at that exact moment. So he gave him a smile instead, wary until his sweater was released and he could lower his hands. “Quite all right,” Shiloh started, smoothing down the front of his sweater, offering the man an easy smile.
With how the other recognized him, Shiloh lifted one eyebrow, his smile widening slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “My reputation must proceed me. You’ll have to pardon me, but I believe you are the only one who is aware of both of our identities.”
Eli had the decency to look chagrined, and he took a step back, out of the other man’s space. He cleared his throat, smoothed down his own sweater, and with the distance and the lack of hands fisted in fabric he looked very academic and very harmless - tall, thin and hardly intimidating. “Forgive me. You look very much like your brother,” he said in apology. “Eli Pride,” he added, holding out a hand in greeting. He had, he realized, no idea of Shiloh knew about Preston’s preferences when it came to relationships, and he realized that admitting he would have grabbed Preston’s sweater as a form of greeting was hardly a normal thing to do.
“It’s quite all right,” Shiloh said with easy confidence, taking Eli’s hand in his own for a firm shake, holding for precisely the polite amount of time for such a greeting. “And you’re the infamous Eli. My brother mentioned you as being his... partner, I suppose?” There was no disgust written over his features, as though such relationships were normal for everyone.
Eli was, admittedly, taken aback that Shiloh knew he was. He was equally taken aback that Preston had mentioned him, though he could tell the word partner was all Shiloh’s doing. “I’m his neighbor,” he said, “and while we are... seeing one another, I think even your brother would find fault with your word choice.” Then, apologetically. “He was supposed to spend the weekend here with me, and he had an open invitation to come in later, if he wished. I don’t normally accost strange men in public.” There was something in the way he made the admission about the planned trip that was hurt, his mouth going tight with anger he wasn’t very good at not showing.
“He might not like the word choice, so I assure you that it’s mine and mine alone.” Shiloh turned back to look up towards the stained glass in front of them, once again taking another easy stance, his entire person speaking of ease and relaxation. “And it’s a shame you don’t normally accost people in public. You never know what sort of interesting people you might encounter if you did that more often.” Was that a wink he tossed towards Eli? Quite possibly. And it was followed up by a heart-felt laugh.
“As for Preston...” Shiloh trailed off, glancing towards Eli, his expression softening. “If you know him even half as well as I do, then you likely understand that’s just how he is. It seems his employer is back in town and things always come up. This gives you a quiet weekend on your own that I’m sure you can appreciate just as well without him at your side.”
“I feel it only right to warn you that I do not get on particularly well with Anton Sparke,” Eli said, for full disclosure. He turned his attention back to the window as well. “I feel certain your brother works too bloody much, and I’m hardly impressed with my quiet weekend when we’ve had this planned for weeks.” Despite the candor of the words, he sounded calm. “Which makes me selfish, I suspect, but I like to be open with people.” He didn’t add that work made Preston disappear for weeks at a time, or that he knew there was something odd going on with the Iron Man suit, but his feelings were clear enough.
“I thought you out of the state,” Eli continued, and he glanced over at Shiloh just as that cold, inhuman thing passed behind them. His memories were tangible things, visible and felt by others, and he expected Shiloh to react to it, just as he was. Because he believed it to be a memory, unaware that it was very possible that it was no such thing.
There was a small, soft laugh at Eli’s professed dislike of the infamous Anton Sparke, a feeling that he himself could sympathize with, though not nearly with the passion that Eli seemed to feel. “I, too, am quite certain my brother works entirely too much, but for all the suffering that man puts him through, Preston seems to enjoy it. I’ve never been one to step in the way of others’ happiness. Sometimes it’s best to focus on the positives rather than the things we dislike.”
A shiver worked down Shiloh’s back then, sharp and sudden enough that he turned halfway to look at the air behind him, blue eyes narrowed faintly in visible wariness. Seeing nothing immediately, he looked back towards Eli, a brow arched, though he said nothing about what he had just felt. Perhaps it was simply the nature of the estate getting to him.
“I was until recently,” Shiloh explained a moment later. “A job offer brought me to the area, and I simply couldn’t turn it down. Couple that with a teaching position and I thought it might be novel to settle in the area for the immediate future. It’s simply coincidence that it’s the same area that Preston has settled in.” Shaking off that cold feeling, Shiloh glanced back up towards the windows, seeking out that calm from moments earlier. “Preston says you own a tea shop in the area? I do hope I’m recalling that correctly.” Glancing to the side, he looked for affirmation of this recollection, hoping to steer their conversation away from all the opinions they both undoubtedly had about Preston Rawlings.
Eli felt that Shiloh’s opinion of Anton Sparke was a mild one in deed, and it took some effort not to pursue that conversation further, even when it became quite obvious that Shiloh wished to deviate from it. He listened, instead, to Shiloh’s explanation for his presence in Seattle. and he nodded at the inquiry about the shop. “Coffee, actually, more than tea. Though I do serve both. It’s a family business. My true area of study is historic, with a specialization in architecture. The history of old buildings fascinates me. The structures themselves, and the lives that have inhabited them.” He was talking without thinking, truly, because he was taking notice of the fact that Shiloh felt the chill but seemed to see nothing associated with it.
Eli turned as the cold passed again, and he, too, saw nothing, and his hands immediately went to his pockets, searching for wallet and keys that were not there. “Blast it. Check your pockets,” he ordered.
Shiloh was about ready to comment on the man’s adoration for history when he broke off with that abrupt suddenness. Obediently, Shiloh’s hands went to his pockets, searching for his own belongings that had magically seemed to have disappeared. “You’re not a pickpocket of sorts, are you?” Shiloh asked with a certain amount of wariness, though the accusation wasn’t close to being serious. The cold was almost tangible in the air, had the small hairs on the back of his neck rising in alarm.
“Bloody thief,” Eli said, and he wasn’t talking to Shiloh. He didn’t have time to call for Drake, and this wasn’t really his intended way of spending the weekend. “You wouldn’t happen to have a useful ability, would you?” he asked Shiloh, motioning with his head for the other man to follow him in the direction the cold air had retreated, which was toward the abandoned wing of the castle.
“Useful ability?” Shiloh followed after him, slightly taken aback with the man’s bluntness in asking so openly about something that Shiloh preferred to keep under wraps. But they were in relative privacy, so he quickened his pace, coming alongside Eli as he slid his hands in his pockets. “Wind. I can create winds. I have no idea if that shall be useful in whatever it is we’re stalking through the castle, though.” He kept his eyes on Eli as they walked, trying to read his face for some clue as to what was going on.
Eli heard the uncertainty in the response, and he wasn’t offended by it. He normally cautioned against open admission of abilities, but as Shiloh had just been unexpectedly dragged into EIT business, he felt candor was appropriate. Wind. It could prove helpful.
The cold air was near Eli’s feet, now, and he noticed a rug askew on the wooden floor, which he kicked aside to reveal a floorboard with a telltale ring on one end - a trap door. He crouched, pulling it open, and he looked up at Shiloh. “I work for an organization called EIT. We protect humanity from Creation crimes, crimes committed while using abilities. I could use your assistance, should you choose to follow, but you are under no obligation to,” he told him plainly, no time to pretty it up, and then he dropped into the hole, foot catching on the ladder leading down into the darkness.
Shiloh glanced off to the side to make sure no one was snooping around before he made any motion to follow after. The weekend was meant to be relaxing, a peaceful getaway to clear his thoughts, but it was quickly dissolving into something quite different. Was he arguing? Hardly.
“At least you’re more forthcoming about your activities than a certain other person I am acquainted with,” Shiloh said as he dropped to a crouch, peering down into the darkness that Eli had disappeared into before following after him. “I’m interested in helping, though I would like some more details before I sign on the dotted line,” he called down below him, lowering himself rung by rung on the ladder.
Eli’s feet had already found purchase on the dusty floor, and he couldn’t see anything in the darkness he’d found himself in. When Shiloh called out, Eli looked up, and he laughed as Shiloh lowered himself. “Does that mean we’re not going to have an argument about my profession? Your brother is quite fond of those,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it. There was light up ahead, and he nodded toward it. “Probably someone with an invisibility ability,” he said in a hush. “Usually direct contact counters those. Let’s cross our fingers, shall we?”
“My brother likes to have arguments over a lot of things, I’ve found. It’s best just to nod, smile, and humour him, then make sure he doesn’t catch you next time.” He had a laugh of his own as he dropped to the dusty floor, wiping his hands off on the seat of his pants. “Your profession is your own to decide, and so long as you’re happy with it, who has any right to argue?”
Shiloh looked forward to where Eli nodded, the light a faint spot of brightness in the distance. “I’m just going to nod and pretend that I agree with what you’re talking about, given that I have no direct experience to reference to. Just don’t get me killed. Please?”
Eli grinned, and it occurred to him that despite looking alike, Preston and Shiloh were very different. “I’ll recruit you at this rate,” he admitted, and then he put up a finger to indicate silence as he made it to the edge of the lit opening. “Why don’t you see if enough wind can chase him our way,” he suggested in a whisper.
A grin came by way of answer to that and he eased forward alongside Eli, keeping his movements as quiet as he could manage. Eli’s whisper had him nodding in reply, and Shiloh shifted away from the wall slightly so he could see better through the opening. One hand rose, fingers relaxed, and if Eli was paying attention, he’d see Shiloh’s lips moving with silently spoken words. After only a handful of seconds, the wind could be heard towards where the cold air had escaped to, blowing towards them and kicking up dust from the dirtied floor.
It worked, which impressed Eli, and when the cold air passed him by, he grabbed at it with forceful hands that grabbed nothing and shoved that nothing against a brick wall until it materialized into a teenage boy, struggling. Hand-to-hand wasn’t Eli’s forte, but even he could pin someone so much smaller against the bricks, and he nodded toward the room the boy had vacated. “Check the room for stolen items,” he said, even as he pulled his phone out and dialed his contact at Seattle PD.
There was a terse nod as Shiloh skirted into the room that had been vacated, doing quick work of surveying the contents before stooping and grabbing up a black duffel that had been tossed in one corner. “Got some things here,” he called out to him, emerging moments later with the bag in hand.
“Seems like we weren’t the only victims of his pickpocketing,” he said sternly, giving the pinned boy a look before glancing towards Eli. “You call. I’ll keep hold of him.”
Eli looked from the boy to Shiloh, and then he traded off, letting Shiloh hold the boy as he walked into the next room and put the phone to his ear. He looked over his shoulder at Shiloh, and he gave him a grin. “Welcome to the team, then.”
Shiloh dropped the bag on the ground before they exchanged the boy from one to the other, keeping him pressed against the wall where no harm could come to either of them. He glanced over towards Eli in time to see the grin, giving a roll of his eyes in response. “Glad to be of help,” he said with a grin of his own.