... (itendsinfire) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2019-10-22 12:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | #january 2018, reagan, reagan x westin, westin |
Who: Reagan and Westin
Where: Reagan and Caius's home
When: Extremely early morning, Thursday, January 4th
Status: Complete
Sleepless nights were not unusual for Reagan anymore. She was working a lot during the day, trying not to worry about what she would do once her magically tinged inventory ran out. Part of the appeal of Belladonna was the fact that her products worked. Nearly everything in the store was infused with magic, and it was what brought people back. Not to mention her “backroom” which held the hex bags and other things that were sold under the table. What if she couldn’t create anything new? What if she lost Belladonna?
She knew Caius was still searching, trying to find a way to retrieve her magic and Reagan was trying to help, trying to remain optimistic. But there was a numbness growing inside of her, infecting any lingering hope she had. Occasionally she considered packing a bag and leaving town, preferably when Caius was at work and would be none the wiser until she was long gone. It wasn’t to punish him, but to free him from whatever the hell she was going to become. He wouldn’t appreciate it, she knew. He would probably be furious about it, and Reagan knew it was probably a bit overly dramatic on her part. But she wasn’t seeing any way of this. Her magic was a fundamental part of who she was and now she was feeling its absence in a painfully acute way.
There was a growing disinterest in the things around her and Reagan was having difficulty finding the motivation to do even the simplest things. Her hair lacked shine, her face devoid of makeup. For someone as careful with her physical image as Reagan was, it was a bit of a shock every time she looked into the mirror and saw the dark circles under her eyes. A shock, and then acceptance. What did it even matter anymore? Of course, her magic was not her whole life. She knew she was more than just a witch. But she couldn’t explain how empty she felt without it. Reagan was doing her best not to show it to Caius, or her family. She felt weak and resigned, and that was not the kind of woman she was. She was strong and stubborn and occasionally she had bursts of determination that she wouldn’t let Baron win this one either. But it was also exhausting to cling to something that felt so futile and when she was alone, she could just… not care. About anything.
She was in bed now, Caius sleeping beside her. Reagan had slept for a while but something pulled her out of her restless slumber, leaving her with the urge to climb out of bed, which she did, quietly and carefully as not to wake Caius. She pulled on her robe and left the bedroom, walking downstairs and shivering against the chill of having left the warmth of her bed. It felt like she was walking through a dream, but she didn’t question it. Instead Reagan found herself in the back of the house, looking through the French doors towards the tree line, expecting to see… well, something there. Someone.
“I hope you don’t mind if I let myself inside,” the voice said behind her. “It’s quite cold out.”
Reagan’s breath caught in her throat and she turned on her heel to find a man sitting in the living room, looking as comfortable as can be, leaning back in the chair, one boot resting on his knee. She recognized him, of course. It was the man she had seen outside of Zania’s house during the woman’s Christmas party. The man on the pier who had been watching her on New Year’s Eve. The rational response would be to scream, to call for Caius. Really, instinctively she might have used her magic to incapacitate him, but Reagan couldn’t do that anymore. And… she didn’t really want to. There was an intruder in her home, but she felt more intrigued than frightened.
“What do you want?” Reagan asked instead, crossing her arms against her chest.
“What do you want?” he asked. Then he smiled before Reagan could even think to answer. It was a pleasant enough smile but sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine all the same. He stood in one smooth motion and walked over to her, his boots making very little noise on the floor beneath them. “You don’t have to answer that. I think we both know what you’re missing, and what you need.”
There was a brief moment where Reagan wondered if this was the dark entity from the tunnel, the one who had possessed Mila Moretti and tempted Caius. She would have been lying if she said she hadn’t thought about going to the tunnel on her own to try and gain her magic back. Reagan told herself she was smart enough to make the right kind of deal, but she had made a promise to Caius and she intended to keep it, no matter how desperate she became.
He must have seen the curiosity and uncertainty in her eyes because his smile widened. “My name is Westin Straker. I have no affiliation with the being you’re thinking of, other than… well, this town and I understand each other. It gets to feed as long as it does what I say. The arrangement has worked rather well over the years. But it also leaves people like you hurting, and I really do regret that. Unfortunately sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
Reagan’s gaze narrowed as her fingers pressed painfully into her arms. “If my husband wakes up and finds you here--”
“Oh, he won’t wake up,” Westin interrupted. He reached out to take a piece of Reagan’s hair, letting it slide through his fingertips. “You’ve lost your shine. I want to help you get it back.”
Her heartbeat picked up speed and Reagan felt caught between the urge to flee and the desire to hear him out. She couldn’t make a deal with the devil, if that’s what this was. That would be worse than anything she found in that tunnel. At the same time, she didn’t get an overly evil impression from this man, despite his words. Mila… that tunnel… both had left Reagan feeling cold and uneasy, the darkness permeating the air around them. There was something unsettling about Westin, but also something… comforting. It was the sudden knowledge that he could fix her problem without claiming her soul.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” Reagan murmured, already ashamed of herself for feeling the impulse to beg. It was disgustingly weak of her. She had sacrificed her magic for Caius, and given the chance, she would do it again. But she simply didn’t feel whole without it. She didn’t feel like the woman Caius fell in love with. She felt like half of a person and Reagan wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand living that way.
Westin shook his head and cupped her cheek with one warm hand. “I’m not going to ask you for anything more than a favor. Because all I can do is give you some advice. A nudge, I guess. His magic isn’t going to cut it.” Westin’s gaze ticked upward to where Caius slept in the room above them. “He’ll wear himself out, so let me save you both some trouble. Baron is still around, but you’re not going to find her on your own.” He paused and then chuckled. “Listen to me, about to hand you a solution before you agree to my terms.”
She had been holding her breath as he spoke and Reagan could all but feel the bait dangling in front of her. She tried to step back from his touch, but her feet wouldn’t move. And his hand against her skin seemed to invoke intense feelings of hope. A promise that she could be everything she wanted to be, and more if she really wanted it. “You want a favor,” Reagan whispered. “What kind?”
“I don’t know yet,” Westin drawled, grinning again. “But someday I will. My only expectation is if I need your help, you’ll agree when I come to you for it. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it? I’m not asking for your soul, or some kind of bloodied sacrifice. Just your word, Reagan. Do we understand each other?”
Any resistance Reagan might have clung to faded as soon as Westin’s hand shifted and gripped her jaw, tight enough to hurt, and maybe bruise, but Reagan didn’t feel the pain. Her body felt like it was on fire, but in the way that used to prove euphoric. The way the flames licked down her spine, or projected from her fingertips. She saw the image in her mind, her skin lit aflame, the power radiating from her strong enough to rival even Caius. It was as close to orgasmic as one could get without actually coming and Reagan whimpered in disappointment when his hand loosened its possessive grip on her skin.
“Yes,” Reagan said then, without hesitation. “I understand.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She was impatient now, which prompted Westin to laugh.
“Good.” Westin didn’t lower his hand from her face, but leaned in to press his lips to her ear, speaking low. “The only magic strong enough to summon Baron and release your magic lies in a coven. The Six. Their blood will prove to be the difference. The spells lies in the Ruske family grimoire. Once you see it, you’ll know.”
A coven? The Ruske’s. Reagan’s dark brows drew together and she had about a dozen questions to ask him, but before she could, her eyes opened again and Reagan found herself back in bed, Caius still asleep beside her. Her pulse was racing and she had one terrible moment where she thought she had been dreaming. But she was on top of the blankets, still in her robe. And lifting her hand to her jaw, she realized it felt a bit sore. It hadn’t been a dream. Everything Westin had told her was lodged in her memory and Reagan had to keep from waking Caius up to tell him everything. No, she couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t trust it. He would see it as being no better than if Reagan went to the tunnel for help. But this was different, she could feel it in her bones.
She would figure some things out and then tell Caius about it, pass it off as her own idea and see where it led them. But Reagan had a better than good feeling about it, and for the first time in a long time, she fell back asleep full of hope.