Pepper Potts (pottsresilient) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-08-18 00:25:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !thread, !trigger warning, pepper potts / rescue (616) |
Who: Pepper Potts
When: Morning 17 August 2014
Where: Pepper's new house
What: A new dress triggers a confrontation
Rating: TW for violence
Pepper had known the house was haunted when she had bought it, and though she said she knew better than to believe in ghosts, after a life of scheduling gods for lunches and fights with alien dragons only to be taken to an alternate dimension with buffy characters, she could never really rule anything out. But what kept her plugging forward at the house that everything seemed to say go back from was a stubborn determination that she could have a thing like this, that she could handle it, and even maybe that she could rescue it. In fact, having spent the past week in the house, she was starting to believe it. But it hadn't been so bad: the lights flickered, flashes of the rooms looking markedly different showed up in reflections when you weren't paying attention, and the attic door wouldn't open. When Mako left, Herc said it sounded like rain in the walls. It might have been, they'd lost power for nine hours. But while it was unusual, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The only time it had turned violent was if you tried to change the music on the ipods. The house was fond of jazz--of course it was. She was almost getting used to the soft jazz playing on every floor. It certainly helped get her in the mood for the moment, because Pepper wasn't thinking of the house now. Beyond the master bedroom with its oak framed poster bed, though new mattress and linens, its half unpacked boxes stacked atop antique dressers and napthalene scented armoires, and its closet nearly as large as her bedroom at Potts Tower, there was still a lot to be done and redone. Pepper was getting ready for a jazz age brunch inspired by the Governor's Island Lawn Party. She stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel, walking over the chestnut vanity. The mirror was tarnished and steam-fogged, but as much work as the secret furniture sequestered under drapes and coming with the house needed, there was a charm to it all. Pepper absently hummed along to the syncopated trumpet fugues as she put on her makeup and costume jewelry pieces acquired for the event. A movement in the mirror caught her eye, of indigo satin moving in the shadow of bedposts to a rhythm more primal than Count Basie. She stilled the eyeshadow brush and watched for a moment as the room seemed to grow warmer, or perhaps the rouge on her cheeks wasn't blush. Pepper set down the brush and turned around. The music continued, the motion stilled. Perhaps it was the fan, perhaps this house was getting to her. Pepper shook her head and went back to getting dressed, finally dropping the towel and trading it for the beaded blue dress she had acquired for the event. Pepper had always loved any excuse for dress-up. She slid it on reaching to zip up the side of the gown, when she felt it slide up for her--as convenient as it was violating. Pepper found herself holding her breath as she glanced in the mirror to look behind her, but no one--nothing--was there. The room seemed brighter, newer, and as cold as the grave as the lights dimmed to a burning red of incandescent bulbs. She still wasn't breathing when unseen hand brushed her hair off her shoulder. Pepper saw only her shadow stretching towards the door, but staring at the mirror, saw the reflection of a woman who might be her, and a dark haired man she couldn't place. But she knew him, or a part of her she'd yet to discover did. She couldn't explain how many ways she hated him, and something more. A soft click jarred her back to her senses. Pepper jerked away, from what she saw, towards the vanity and turning to face the ghost she might have imagined. "I'm leaving." She said to no one in particular and grabbed her clutch from the table, her shoes from the ground, and moving towards the door like a startled hind. A door that was locked. Her hands curled desperately around the antique knob, trying to find the trick that would release the ancient mechanism. The jazz that had been so ambient seemed louder, taunting and all encompassing. Sunshine brings danger in this heart of mine. Blue skies taunt me. You don't want me. "Frannie." the words that weren't lyrics seemed to implore her. "Henry.." A name she knew to say spilled out before she realized it, but the whirring of her mind caught quickly up. She seen the episodes of Buffy like this. She had no desire of learning where this scene went. A soft cyan light lit the door in front of her. Pepper spoke with a defiance she didn't feel. "Get out!" She tugged at the door once more. "This is my house!" With a crash, a vase slammed into the wall beside her, shattering and causing her to jump away. Pepper turned in time to be shoved against the door, the beads of her dress digging into her back through the chantilly lace and silk. Her breathing hitched. But Pepper Potts was no shrinking damsel and she was not pushed around. She shoved back with all the magnetic energy thrumming through the battery where her heart should be. The force knocked a mirror off the wall, and tore the golden paper (she'd decided she hated it anyway) and dismounted the door. She didn't feel the pressure, and the lighting and air slowly returned to normal as she let the blue glow die down. Pepper couldn't explain what happened as her head cleared, but she quickly left the room, heading down two flights of stairs to the public salon before she dropped her purse and sank into a chair and let her head fall into her hands. |