thomas_sharpe (thomas_sharpe) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2015-10-31 01:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | steve rogers, ~thomas sharpe |
Who: Thomas, Steve and open to cottage people
Where: The Rogers' cottage
What: Steve sees a face he rather not wants to see
When: Midnight on Halloween
Rating: High (because of subject matter)
Open: Yes, to cottage people
Status: Unfinished
The heaviness of his heart grew with almost every step. Steps that were connected to a well-practiced routine. Make excuses, wait till she was asleep and crawl up the stairs to his sister. Exhausting trip, errands that needed immediate attention, feeling unwell – oh, he had quite the repertoire. But it was different this time. The steps – they weighed him down more. Felt more like a burden than a fulfilled longing. It had been easier the last times. Pamela, lonely and crippled in her wheelchair; Margaret, so very fragile, so very sick; Enola who he had felt a connection with… not love. No, never love. He had sworn it after all, hadn’t he? But it had not all bad - he had been able to provide them with hope. But Edith had had all that hope before they had met. All her strength and her innocence. And here he was stripping it from her. What choice did he have though? He loved Lucille. She had done so much for him. Edith’s father had had a choice. He could have invested. But Cushing had not deemed him worthy. The wrong hands – he had not worked hard enough… yes, Thomas’ life had been so very easy and sheltered. Lips pursued and heart tightened, he opened the door to Lucille’s room. She only ever used it when she could not join him in the Master bedroom. This was how they could survive. The words left a sour aftertaste like a soup that had been spiced wrong. But food was food. One could not survive without a meal. And there was something else wrong: no Lucille. His sister who he was so sure would be waiting for him was absent. Bed unmade. Rest of the room undisturbed. He was filled with a feeling of unease. The feeling grew as the minutes passed. No sign of his lover. He was restless now. Bathroom. Kitchen. Hall. No Lucille. Questions and worries bore into Thomas’ mind as he rushed through the mansion. There was no trace of his sister. And when he checked on the Master bedroom, Edith was gone as well. Edith, the delicate little flower who managed to blossom even in the darkness of his home and whose petals would soon be wither and be lost to the world. He started calling their names but it was in vain. There was no answer. And then he fled outside. There was a light on the hill. A light where there should be no light on a hill where there should be no hill. Everything was wrong. Sky, countryside, lights, noises, temperature – they did not belong to this place. The light was the only thing that made any kind of sense to him. It was something to follow. People would be there and people had explanations and help. Was this their punishment? Filthy. Impure. A disgrace. They would be punished for their deeds. Their mother had gracefully informed them about this. He was hesitant to knock at the door of the cottage. But there was nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to so knocking he did. |