pretty bird (wide_eyed) wrote in unforgivenrpg, @ 2010-11-06 20:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, 2000-11, c: emma dobbs, type: narrative |
WHO Silas Dobbs
WHEN 6 Nov 2000 | evening (8/9 o'clock)
WHERE flat above Pure
RATING Med
She let her head fall back across the lip of the tub, eyes closing before she wiped at her nose with the back of a hand taking in a deep shuddering breath. The heat of the bubbled water was not nearly as soothing as she had hoped; it did wonders for her sore muscles but absolutely nothing for the hole in her chest. Rubbing at her eyes with one hand, squeezing them because though she was alone she refused to cry; Silas instead slowly opened them blearily to look up at the foggy steamy room. She really had turned it on quite hot, knew when she eventually stepped out she would be beet red, but it was the best she could do for now. She had been a fool to get so drunk, a fool to let herself ignore all her normal self-defenses, a fool to think that because she had changed he had. Fool or no it still hurt. She had had a crush on him, a blind man could have seen that; but she let it go further than that, she had let her crush start to delve into more real feelings in a farce relationship. She'd let herself get to close only to be burned. Running a hand down to her thighs she let the butt of her palm rub against the still sore muscles before turning her body slightly, curling her shoulders into themselves, facing the perfect white of the porcelain tub. There was so much she didn't understand and even as she tried not to lash out, tried not to take it to heart she was hardly doing a good job of it. She had stupidly had sex with him and now he wanted nothing to do with her. Bugger all her attempts to appease! Silas' eyes filled again and she moved to press against the tub pushing at it as if that would suddenly make things better for her only it didn't, she knew it wouldn't. She had made the classic mistake, the one her mother had always told her of, that she'd heard whispered through the halls at school--she had just hoped...It was stupid now. Arranged marriage or not he did not have to like her they just had to have kids. Turning onto her back again, Silas' arms moved above her head, draping themselves along with her damp red curls over the edge of the bath as she sighed. Tonight she would mourn last bit of her innocence and tomorrow she would get up and get on with her life. Her parents had not loved one another; the idea that she would someday love and be loved by her own husband had been tragically naive. It wasn't even that out of everything that hurt the worst, love was an unfamiliar concept to her. She loved her parents, her friends, but the deep romantic love she read in the books she and El had always hid away seemed just a figment of imagination. No, it was the fact that while she did not expect love she had truly believed that she was at least important. He had said she was special, but now, sober, she realized... Her knees rose up and she sniffed, burying her chin in between them, eyes closed. Stupid. So stupid. She had no idea where he was, when he'd be home, probably not tonight regardless of what he had said. He had a life and friends that were free; she would have used that if she could too. Wiping at her eyes again with the wet butt of her palm she slowly pressed herself out of the still warm water, feeling heavy with the draining dripping water from her skin. Grabbing a robe, his robe, she wrapped it around her body and pulled the tie quite tight, folds of extra cloth wrapping around her in a baggy fashion. She felt ridiculous. Not because of how it fit--she rubbed her arms over the soft sleeves as she glanced at herself in the mirror--but because she liked that it was his, that it was a reminder of him. She knew she was a like a sad pathetic puppy dog and it made her sick; she didn't want to feel such a way when he had clearly did not feel anything remotely the same--but she could not control it. Even after his curt words all week (and that was when he bothered to speak to her at all), or the fact he refused to look at her, or he had not slept in their bed since Sunday... she still felt desperate for any attention. Instead she sat back and let him brood and ignore, going through her normal routine hoping that if she didn't act differently he would think nothing had changed for her and it would all go back to normal; even if that wasn't the case. Everything had changed. Her crush was actually feelings and she--did not appreciate the force of marriage--came to the conclusion she'd actually like to be married to him. He had a spark of life to him that she had grown addicted too. She had seen him angry and vicious as well as completely vulnerable; it was humbling and it was intoxicating. Things had only gotten worse after the sex. Even drunk he had somehow gotten through all her blockades, all her fears. She could recall with fairly amazing clarity the gentle seduction, his prodding and then.... It was nothing like before, even the pain had gone (though now she was still sore as hell, but it was still nothing like the last time) leaving her feel as if somehow she was connected to him. Logic told her that Tavish had had multiple women before and would probably continue to have multiple women after, that she was merely a blip in his life; but for her... Silas rubbed one of her arms with the opposing hand and walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom sitting on the bed. Her eyes moved to look at the open door and quietly sighed. It was late and she still felt too sore to go downstairs; she wasn't interested in the leers and jeers, or possibly running into his father, and still having to pretend to be the smiling bubbly Hufflepuff the regulars had gotten use too. Standing and stretching, a quiet groan fell from her lips, the muscles tight and glad for the release from the action. Moving lightly she pulled out an oversized shirt from her dresser and went to remove the robe, instead pulling on the shirt and throwing the robe over a hook at the closet door. Turning to look at the bed again she gave a sad sigh and called the crups, managing a small smile as the two bounded into the room. Just as when Tavish was in a coma she let them sleep up on the bed with her, at least giving some weight next to her in the expansive mattress. Climbing onto her side she reached out to scratch Eli's head and pulled herself into his pillow, nearly lying diagonally across before wondering what she would make for breakfast, hoping that he at least would be home for that. |