B U R N

He scratched his chin with the gun, it only took a second, not enough time for her to try anything. “Who said I was a smart man?” Smart enough to know that going inside was a bad idea. “Nah, don’t do too good with socializing. What’s gon’na happen is I’m gon’na take you away for a little while. You’ll meet new and exciting people, I’ll see how much cash you’re worth then we’ll play it by ear, sound good? Yup, sounds good.” Brad stood up. “C’mon, lets get you somewhere danker.” It was a very casual approach to kidnapping. He figured he didn’t need to be particularly threatening, the gun spoke louder than he ever could. “It’ll be like a holiday, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

She could beg, she could cry, but her pride won’t let her and her sense of survival says it would be of little help. “Absolutely,” to agree is her only current option, so she will do so with conviction. Never mind the doubt that plays into her mind, isn’t sure Bernardo would pay a penny for her return. If anything, he might double the deal so she doesn’t come back. Takes a good look at the still water of the pool, allows her nerves to settle with it. “It’s settled then, I’m coming with you,” Steps boldly towards him, “Lead the way.” Only hopes in the process he might put the gun away too. 

“I only do things that are called for, what kind of horrible person do you think I am?” A offended tone is adopted and a hand over her heart is placed like he has honestly offended her, though the slight twitch of the corner of her mouth should show that she is kidding. “Aww, while you are cute, you would have no chance again the queen, Princess~”

"The queen? Honey, where’s your crown?” Dry words followed by a dryer smile. He’s screwing with her, mostly. Own ego won’t bend so far as to admit she might be more attractive than him but he’s not blind either. If crowns were being handed she would certainly be deserving. 

All the elegance in the world could not have made the spin any better, since this spin was very much Lex. And that was everything that she could ever want to see, him being happy and carefree in a non dangerous way. It was enough to make the smile on her face wider as well.

“Ice happens to be one of my favorite elements. It was one of my favorite things to do and it is a tradition I still keep alive. So dancing on ice is one thing I am very good at.”

She had half wondered if Lex would enjoy it out here since he was fire and this was over water, but he seemed to trust in that she would not let him fall into the water any time soon.

“You feeling better?”

“Much.” His body language speaks for itself. Shoulders seem less HEAVY and eyes shine brighter. “I never liked ice much, but I don’t mind it as bad when I’m with you,” the closest the kid can get to expressing how much she means to him. And it says a lot, that he’s comfortable being VULNERABLE (at least physically) around Seraphine. 

He doesn’t have TRADITIONS so to speak, save for black out drinking. Never learned HEALTHY coping mechanisms for the events life tended to throw. He thinks he would like some though, wonders if perhaps this could be a new tradition for him. 

“Thanks,” it’s simple. But he’ll stop in his tracks to state it, goes so far as to hold her gaze for a moment. It’s odd, unusual even, but for a moment the fire in him seems to be TAMED. 

Good. being feared is the best thing. It’s better than being loved. STRONGER than that shit. It’s something he prefers. All that human shit about love and caring about someone, friendliness, it’s all weakness. He smiles turns to face the guy fully this time. Don’t worry Jacks, he’s come to decide that he won’t hurt the guy.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Jacks. I’m Roy.” but is it a pleasure? He might say yes, he might say maybe. MAYBE he can make Jacks into some kind of pet. A henchman or whatever the hell you’d call them. A pawn for a big game he’s planning.

…Maybe.

“Roy, Roy, the pleasure is all mine” and the words are dry as they leave his lips. Skin is prickled, discomfort sets around his skin. Nothing about this situation feels good, nothing feels RIGHT. Keeps it cool, keeps himself TIGHTLY strung together. (Never mind that he’s still trying to process what the HELL he just witnessed.)

“What brings you to the water, Roy?” Tone is familiar, as though they’re distant friends. Friends don’t KILL friends, it’s a motto he lives by. It’s a motto he is YET to die from. 

“I believe her,” She says with a smile. “It makes sense that it’d come from the roots.” Especially since the sun would have had to hit the roots before it blossomed into anything beautiful, and we all know the sun also holds power.

“Oh, ma’am, I don’t believe I ever caught your name. Mine is Bluebell.”

Bluebell, what a pretty name, she thinks.“My babushka calls Bluebells Dead man’s bells. She says that they’re a symbol of gratitude and love but fairies curse whoever dares to trample on them.” The girl can talk flowers for decades, sometimes it's easier to ignore it, her head is in the clouds. “Mila, I’m Mila.”

It’s a quiet night, one of those few nights where D’Ablo is at home instead of out at some club, picking up some pretty face or getting completely shitfaced, or both. The knock on the door doesn’t surprise him, exactly. Sometimes his friends come over and they smoke and watch some trashy comedy on TV. It’s Jacks, though. Certainly not expected.

It’s the first time Jacks has seen him looking relaxed, without his carefully put-together makeup and clothing. But the steel behind his eyes is still there, and the coldness in his demeanor never leaves.

What for? He pushes his reading glasses onto his forehead, eyeing Jacks, that shaking smile, the bloodied knuckles, two scents of blood mingling in the air. He tilts his head with a smile.Bruises don’t suit you. Get into a fight? Worse, he knows. He doesn’t know how worse, but it is certainly worse than just a fight for Jacks to be crawling to him.

You look like you need a drink.

Hues fall to his knuckles as though they’ve only just noticed the blood. (They haven’t, paid more attention to this than the road across.) “Something like that.” He smiles wider but it’s mirthless. “You should,” voice cracks, mirthless,  ”you should see the other guy.”

What for? What for indeed. But how to begin. D’Ablo looks different, he notes as he tries to formulate a response, more natural...Less supernatural. And here he is, so far from his usually groomed state.  It does little to settle his stomach. He’ll run a hand through his hair, as though this might appease his dishevelled appearance. He only succeeds in spreading some still damp blood to his forehead. “There was an accident. I don’t know how to...” wants to say ‘fix it’, is sure it’s a little late for that. 

A drink. He’s not convinced D’Ablo is offering but the question is still verbalised, “Have you got Irish whiskey?” A staple in his home, as though it might regulate his heart rate with its familiarity. Though, at this stage, he’ll take anything. “I don’t think I can have this discussion without a drink.”

Pardon me, Estela, but I know abusive. There’s a picture of Bernardo next to its definition in the dictionary. He won’t go into detail about how he knows. She doesn’t need the details of his various experiences with partners almost like Bernardo, some worse than him. Me, he says simply, dipping her. No innocents. Though you could take the tailor with you if you so wished.

She falls quiet. That darling little smile falters, only for a second, a heartbeat before it shines again. (Lacks lustre, seems more strained with every passing day.) Sinks into the dip gracefully and it is as she rises that she will ask, “Why?” It’s a large question, she’s not certain she expects a reply. “My dog,” voice grows more quiet, the ever stoical Estela is afraid of her own words, “I won’t leave my dog. Not with him.” The final word seethes on her tongue.

He follows her, taking the other seat with the vague sense of discomfort still settling over his shoulders, but he tries to make an effort to let himself relax just a little bit. Leo takes the glass with a mumbled statement of gratitude as he listens to her introduction. ( And, in the background, he can hear a boy and a dog having fun somewhere, but he doesn’t show that he’s made a note of it. ) “Pleased to meet ya,” he replies, momentarily slipping into his more casual vernacular. “Good thing I’m open to odd jobs, then.” To say that he wasn’t, after all, would be bad for business.

Ah. So. Not the usual job he normally did, such as transport or smuggle goods from one place to another, or steal some lost items or jewelry or legal documentation from an out-of-the-way building. But, he supposes, maybe he shouldn’t have expected as much from a family ofWEALTH. But the very idea of the job she is requesting is somehow endearing; he always had a soft spot for children, often making trips back home for the young ones who have come to know him as a funny adventurer and storyteller who brought toys and souvenirs from all across the realms. “You want me to teach these things to your son,” said more so as a statement of clarification rather than a question. He nods to himself, a small smile finding its way across his lips, and realizes that this is something he would consider doing REGARDLESS of payment. “Ah–yes, I’m interested.”

She’ll lean back in her seat as he clarifies, offering only a nod for confirmation before sipping on the water to hand. Ah! And he is interested too. Steel like gaze rests a while on Leo, examines every part of him once more. From his shoes to his hair, all is absorbed and added to a mental calculation. A displaced character with kind eyes. The silence that follows is brief but loud. Finally she offers a faint smile, “Excellent.” 

   (Congratulations. You’ve passed to the next stage.)

“We can talk pay later, my financiers will match whatever you ask  as a starting salary. We can look at doubling that within a year, all being well.” Money, it is clear to see, is not an issue. Perhaps it is the glowing recommendation that precedes him or perhaps it is the ill ease he appears to feel in this environment.  Regardless, she has made up her mind, with whatever calculations that came, Leo is the candidate she wants for the job. Though she supposes it’s not entirely her decision to make, “You must understand, it’s just Rafael and I. He’s a good boy, three turning to four soon. He loves animals, adores drawing but he has little confidence in himself or others.I suppose, if you’ve got no questions? It would be wise for the two of you to meet.”

(He begins to think this was a mistake.)

It’s been too long, too little has changed and too much has stayed the same. But then he looks up and dark hues will catch those so familiar. A face so cruelly remembered. Usual wolfish grin follows, all teeth and facade. His long forgotten heart shatters all over again, stabs at his lungs, makes it all too difficult to breath.

Two words, a cliche uttered over an empty coffee cup, “You came.”

               his hands tremble with the force of earthquakes, in the same manner hurricanes topple trees. a DISASTER - he is becoming, rupturing into - a catastrophe unfolding behind pale, bruising skin. muscles tense, creating pain where they shift under marks that start to bleed. reluctantly, eyes begin to water, coating dark hues that struggle to hide an overwhelming brim ofgold. if he stays out in the open, someone will find him - a teacher, another bully, his parents. no doubt someone who will scold him, or worse, hurt him. he shuffles toward the side of the building, around the back where he could hide and catch his breath. it’ll be fine if he skips class today, if only to gather his bearings.

                 dark grey clouds roll in overhead, blocking any form of sunlight that had been out. he slumps against the wall once he’s found a good corner to stay at. it’ll be out of sight, and enough shelter from any oncoming rain to keep him from catching a cold. if he could stay out here as long as possible, without going home or back inside, he would try his damnest.

                 sliding to a sit, hues look up, watching the clouds roll by. time passes. eventually, the smell of smoke catches his attention, and his eyes follow the smell until he is greeted by a shadow holding a cigarette. at first, he thinks to run, but his body aches in protest at the thought. instead, he tilts his head in slight acknowledgement, small voice posing the question -

                 “ y-you wouldn’t happen to h-have another one of th-those, would you ? ”

Every movement jerks with Lex, steady and then something in him spits. His dad says it’s because he’s more legs and arm than body but Lex thinks different. Thinks it’s got more to do with those pesky sparks. Those’ pesky sparks’ caused chaos today. He learned early on that if you set fire to something small the powers that be, Mr Kensworth, sends you home for a day. ( it’s not a day off, by any means, but he hasn’t got time for school. he’s got shit to do. food to find. a brother to love. ) Almost misses his companion on the floor until he speaks.

The kid puts on his meanest voice, “You got change for it? Don’t hand them out for free, do I.” But his face betrays him, splits into a wide birthed grin. He laughs, a horrible sound really, gravel and enthusiastic crackling embers. “I’m fuckin’ with you. Light up.” Reaches into his pocket and tosses the other boy the pack. 

Scans the others face, the cuts and bruises that smudge skin. Hey, they could match, he thinks. Although his own are mostly healing now, green and yellow paint dabs. (Figures he’s due a refresher.) He knows better than to ask the other where they came from. Keep yourself to yourself, keep low, keep safe. No need to get involved with shit that isn’t his.  “Keep ‘em, yeah? They’re yours now.” And he goes to keep moving. That’s one good deed done for the week. 

Except --- Damn that damnable heart. Leg pauses, mid stride and he sinks back. SHIT. Sinks down. Sits next to this other boy with the face of thunder clouds and eyes filled with rain. “Looks like someone fucked w’ you before I did,” words are warm, campfire’s smoke. 

And what a view to gaze upon too. Night wraps its embrace around the garden. Spotlights greet a grand fountain, spraying itself up, up, up and further still. The sky is clear, there is nothing around to pollute it. A half moon’s smile illuminates the rich greenery around. Orange blooms and the heavy smell of lilac. Money can buy all kinds of exotic shrubs, some Estela can name but many she can’t. (a flower is a flower, they all wilt the same.) From the balconies, above towering palm trees, you can see beyond the gardens. Rolling hills and vineyards. It is beautiful but lonely without another house in sight. The birds sing sometimes as darkness draws, sweet tunes of sweeter times, but not tonight. Tonight all is still.

For all the glory around her she wears tired eyes. Numbly fiddles, fingers flickering between collar bones and a crucifix that hangs like a noose these days. “Bernardo is away for a while,” that’s why she extended the invitation, why she waited for such a late hour, “I thought it wise you come whilst he’s otherwise engaged.”

Painted lips part and for a moment it seems she has so much more to say. Oh, the secrets those lips could spill. The shame, the horror, the tragedy. Instinct takes over and she turns away, pulls out her darling pill box and swallows two. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?“ She’d call herself a damn coward if that instinct hadn’t kept her alive so long.

Zoe was entirely too trusting. If this kid pulled a knife on her and robbed her, she’d probably try to do something stupid, probably end up getting stabbed, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. She’d grown up as trailer park trash, back then their little community trusted each other because they practically all shared each others dope. No wonder she ended up a useless junkie. “Sure, come on.” She headed up the steps and into her apartment building. “And please don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that refined. You can call me Zoe.” The kid murmured about iguanas for a second. He was a strange kid, that was for sure, but apart from the fire he seemed harmless enough. Probably just trying to keep warm, Zoe thought. “Do they bite? We used to have a dog but he got hit by a car.” Zoe sighed as she pushed open the door. “Jimmy and the dog used to wrestle – it was real cute.” 

“Right, right, Zoe. Nice t’ meet you, like.” He’ll take the steps two at a time for the promise of food. Forgets to introduce himself, figures no one he knows has ever cared for names anyway. A dog! The kid’s always wanted a dog...or any pet, really. So long as it’s not an iguana. He’ll curb his enthusiasm at the rather sombre news that follows. “Shit, that’s grim. ‘least you got the memories n’ that.” (Someone should hire the kid to write a damn eulogy.) “Nah, don’t think they bite,” said with little confidence, he’s not exactly the iguana expert, “my mate walks one of them though...bit like a dog.” (It’s not. Not even close.) “Jimmy, he’s your man then, yeah?” 

“I am not wrong. I have never been wrong in my life, especially not about this!” Her hands curled into fists as she glowered at the young man, foot stomping into the dirt beneath her. She could hardly remember what had started the spat, but Ara knew there was no chance in hell she would let the young man come out the victor. “You’re just as idiotic as you are pig-headed.”

“Oh??” It’s not hard to imagine the GLITTER to his eyes when she retaliates, “Pig headed, am I?” Barks out a laugh.  “Least I haven’e got a stick so far up my ass it’s a bother t’ sit down,” he’ll SPIT back. And God, if he thought past the adrenaline might remember he doesn’t know her well enough to pass such judgements. (Thought/THINK.) No chance.

Am currently on holiday and v much enjoying the sun- I was hoping to get some drafts done whilst I’m away but the WiFi here is rocky at beSt.

Replies and regularity will return when I’m back. As trade off pls enjoy this picture of one of the dogs also soaking up the sun - see you all soon !