Snapshots: Part 2 - Confrontation and Conflict

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Dododo Its the Final Countdown Oh Boy... The Plot Thickens
Snapshots: Part 2 - Confrontation and Conflict
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Tairais
Tairais 
@Amuulzhaan 2 years ago
(( Heheh. Sorry not sorry. Warning for somewhat suicidal thoughts, I guess? And cannibalism. ))
Week Six: Man vs. Self
The sixth week of his ill-fated adventure had him in Prague, in another house of the Christian God (Saint Vitus cathedral, stoic against the horrors cradled in its chest, dangling from its rafters), defiled by two would-be-but-not-quite-gods.
The kiss of Judas, reincarnated with three lookalikes. This time, he walked in the shoes of Judas, kissing the cheek of his friend and leader, hanging by the noose of his own gutless nature. Poetic, in a way.
He could almost be numb to the constant reminders of mortality until he remembered that Artemis and Elias's lives were on the line, not his. They wouldn't kill him while he saw his life as disposable and broken- there would be no satisfaction from that. They'd kill the things that kept him going, pick up the shattered pieces of himself, then rebuild him in their image.
It had happened once before. It would happen again. He would betray them. They would take their metaphorical pound of flesh and cast him away, and he would come back to the things that made him feel whole. The cycle would likely continue indefinitely until every piece of him was metal and wire and steam and crystal and-
Gods, he was tired.
And still, he kept going.
Maybe he'd get lucky and Hannibal and Will would make dinner of what was left of him. They'd probably enjoy his brain, marinated in fever.
Distantly, Richard thought he had pneumonia. The rattling cough that wracked his chest agreed with him, as did the sweat pooling in the small of his back. And the shadows of the trees, clawing and digging into his eyes and throat.
The stag loomed over him, tearing chunks out of his lungs with bloody tines of antler. Water rose steadily, washing away blood and fear alike until everything was swimming in salt and sticky wetness-
The water was blood. It made no difference, he was drowning all the same.
He was escorted out of St. Vitus' cathedral by two concerned guards, coughing violently. When one of them asked if he was all right, he licked the taste of blood out of his mouth and smiled, eyes vacant and hollow.
The answer to that was a definitive and resounding no.
But that was quite fine, really. He never had been.
He fell asleep on a stranger's rooftop, burrowing into his coat, kept warm by fever and fabric.
Week 7: Man vs. Man
Frankfurt was lovely this time of year, the Palmengarten equally, if not more so.
That was including the body, if he was quite frank with himself. Almost two months ago he would have been disgusted with himself. Now, it felt more like an inevitability.
You could only hide from yourself so long. Objectively, he was truly a terrible person.
How fortunate he couldn't give a damn. He wished he could, though. Elias deserved better. So, so much better than him. Him and Artemis both- gods, their lives would be so much better had he just died in Paris.
Maybe he'd let Torke get to him after all of this was done. Charricthran had informed him of his old... 'friend's' return a week or so ago- he couldn't quite remember. His mind was mired in fog and flame, and his head hadn't stopped pounding since that night in Venice.
Illuminated by moonlight, he coughed into his scarf and tried to ignore the copper tang in the air. Most of the blood was from the corpse. A trace amount of it was from him.
He was almost there. Barring a terrible distraction, he had maybe three weeks more at most until he could rest.
Gods, he was tired.
And still, he kept going.
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chatterghosts • 2 years ago
Truthfully, Elias couldn't fully describe what he wanted to do upon seeing Richard. The nature of his thoughts were entirely unlinear - in one moment, all he could think was how badly he wanted to just... end it. End Richard, end them. End himself?
They were one in the same, he knew now.
And then he remembered how fervently he wanted to see him again, and his anger was put to ease. It was this cyclicality, the neverending loop of rage and hope -- crackling, crushing bouts of lividity sufficient to sicken a man, and bright, loving smiles that were more beautiful than the night sky -- that spurred him to pick up pace.
The ultimate need for the reaffirmation of his own thoughts and feelings, and the never-acknowledged but ever-pressing need to be completed in the only way he knew how, by the only one he knew capable.
And so he did. He effectively shortened a trip that extended days by half the time.
The air was thick with blooming buds when he arrived, flowers glistening in the light of late morning. Gravel crunched and shifted beneath his feet, and the thought struck him of how beautiful this place had the potential to be.
That being, were there not a damn corpse in the garden. It was blanketed by oleanders, tiger lillies, nightshade, poisonous breeds with their petals just beginning to part through the warm glow.
Briefly, he considered that, in it's own way, it was still beautiful. The idea was simultaneously pleasing and disgusting, so Elias walked faster.
Sliding up behind Richard, he stood and waited.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
Richard had heard the crunch of gravel suspended in fading sunlight, and so he did not react at first. Given the phantom sensation of hair raising on his arms, he was inclined to believe this another illusion.
Once again, the stag at his back agreed. Trust nothing, it whispered. See everything, it cried.
Oh, did he see. Every last body, every last scheme and manipulation, every last fire and flood and ounce of destruction he had caused. Death clung to him like a fine red mist and he both recoiled and rejoiced in it.
He wanted to be a good person- he just wasn't. He still couldn't care, but he cared that he didn't.
He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye and nearly froze.
Not an illusion, then. He kept his thoughts of Elias strictly under lock and key, buried in the deepest catacombs of his cathedral when he was anywhere but whatever home was.
Eyes flicking back to the corpse, he contemplated the likelihood of scaling the walls and disappearing to the second to last stop on his list. The sudden coughing fit he smothered all but a few aborted clicks of his throat of suggested that the likelihood was very low indeed.
Teeth more crooked and jagged than his own smiled like a knife-slash in the moonlight. Eyes bluer than glacial eyes twinkled with amusement. He was fairly certain they were hallucinations, as the stag had wandered over to them and was prancing around them. The wendigos had wandered out to play too- both his and the one that represented Hannibal. He and not-Will could both see it all- mirrors of each other through imagination, empathy, and sickness.
Eventually, he sighed, the motion doing nothing to make him see small or frail. Indeed, he moved with none of the lack of confidence Doctor Prince had worn, nor any of his jerky movements. A flawless automaton, perfectly oiled to slide between a pair of ribs into the heart.
He turned to face Elias with a curiously blank expression, unsure which emotion to present. None of the ones he felt would do- Relief was too selfish, concern was too false, rage too volatile, exhaustion too tangible and bone-deep.
No mask fit- he had discarded those in favor of speed and agility, and still, Elias had caught up with him.
If he had waited just two more weeks...
He stood, and he waited, exuding a calm he only half felt. He said nothing, for what was there to say to a man he had cost everything?
Maybe Elias would kill him. Maybe he would leave. Maybe he would stay and insist on following him.
What did it say about him that the first thought was the most ideal?
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
Richard's calm expression had settled it, and his stomach turned - the sparks of hope and warmth in Elias' gaze were promptly smothered. In that moment, he was the frozen image of cold, critical rage. It was all he could identify.
Well...that, and the need to cry. He'd always been an angry crier -- but he refused to let it surface.
If he actually succeeded in that effort, time would tell.
He swallowed slowly, fists curling and uncurling unseen in his pockets. Anger gave way to irritation; his voice cracked as he spoke through a locked jaw and clenched teeth.
"Why did it have to be you?"
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
He swallowed back the millions of lines about mirrors and teacups. He choked back relieved utterances, terrifiedly furious retorts, sarcastic defenses, and honest truths and all they did was leave him with the bitter taste of regret and aching lungs that had nothing to do with the sickness eating him alive from the inside out.
In the end, he didn't know why it was him (Someone- something, somewhere did, but it was not particularly inclined to explain, nor particularly kind in the first place). He didn't know why and what had led to this specific point in this specific timeline in an infinitesimally small universe.
He did know he would have an existential crisis if he let his mind wander too far, so he settled on saying eleven words.
"I am... sorry, mylimasis. Forgive me, but I do not know." He held out his arms to each side of him, mimicking the crucified form behind him, garlanded in poisonous misery.
Always a perfect mirror.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago • edited
Although he didn't know what response he had anticipated, that hadn't been it; Elias' heart shattered, and his face crumpled -- fat, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. All the anger and desperacy and exhaustion fled through his eyes, leaving him bereft of all but the pressing desire to flee.
But he didn't, because he knew he couldn't. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself, cheeks a burning red as he hissed, "You ruined everything and you left!"
His voice cracked under the bitter weight of it all, but he couldn't find the heart inside him to care.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
He watched his body move to Elias and wrap him in a hug, outside of his own mind, launched there by the sudden reflection of distress and rage and the urge to flee.
He could not let Elias flee, not when there was so much to say. So much that he didn't and couldn't say and tried to convey in the urgency of his embrace.
He wanted to whisper assurances and logically explain his reason for running- had he told Elias the truth, was there even a small chance Elias would not insist to come rescue his brother? Similarly, was there even a small chance Hannibal and Will would not instantly descend upon the thing- the man, the divine creature he loved the most and tear it apart?
He couldn't say that. It was entirely too selfish and not at all endearing, even if it was the truth.
Elias was his, and they could not have it. The beast lurking under the sickness in his chest roared in its cage, and his blood sang its own savage reply.
He ducked his chin further inside his scarf to muffle a coughing fit that seemed to stretch for years, but lasted a handful of seconds in its entirety.
He was really getting quite ill. How irritating.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
Elias wasn't the first one to notice the gentle hug - he hadn't even really caught himself enjoying it. (In all reality, he'd been leaning into it.)
And then, a familiar voice: 
Uh..Elias - he's trying to comfort you, I think, and I'm sure that that's, uh...notwhatyouwant?-- so if you could--
His eyes snapped open, and he squirmed away from Richard -- not as fast as he would have liked to have believed -- and shot a quick, mental 'thank-you' to Oliver. He bared his teeth and wrapped his arms even tighter around himself, a solid seven feet away now. "Don't touch me," he seethed.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
His hands twitched, once, twice, and then three times before they fell still, metal arms meeting clothing and flesh with a soft 'thud'.
That was.. fair.
He watched his body from atop the stag's antlers and suggested it do something, anything.
It merely turned its head and stared at him with an expression void of life in all its forms.
Curiouser and curiouser.
He stared back at Elias and nodded, wrapping his arms around himself as he began to cough and cough and-
there was tar spilling from his lungs and blood and seawater flowing into them, cold as the winter he'd left behind- so cold, so cold. He'd never be able to tolerate the winters of his homeland in his own body ever again- he'd have to watch as he was watching now, somewhere outside of reality.
Tines of bone and tines of steel ripped into his lungs as he shook the vision from his eyes. With any luck Elias would be concerned, and while that was an almost touching thought, he really didn't want to make matters worse by getting his mylimasis sick.
"Y-you should g-go, mylimasis. Please. Following me w-will not help you." His voice was calm. He was absolutely only imagining the yearning and desperation just barely poking through the surface.
His lungs ached and burned and rattled with heavy, moist sluggishness.
Gods, he was tired.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
The guilt he felt - don't..don't feel bad, this isn't your fault - hung around his chest like a fog, but it only appeared in his expression as a twitch in his mouth.
A small realization came to him, then.
"Why don't you say what you really feel? I don't want you to pick-and-choose your words and feelings. If you can tell me, a-and-- if you can give me a good reason to leave, I'll go back to the Society and wait. For my brother."
The demand was an absolute trap, and a paradox nonetheless, but Elias thought he'd at least be getting answers somehow.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
He didn't feel anything- that was the problem.
That being said, his calm emptiness shifted to a cold sort of rage, crackling under the skin. It peeled apart rib and muscle and lung to tear at his heart beneath as the words fell from his mouth like venomous raindrops.
Gods, he was terrible. But it was for Elias' own good.
"I cannot currently feel a d-mn thing, Elias. That is the problem, irrelevant as it is to this conversation." His voice dropped into the back of his throat and coated itself in honey and velvet- the rolled syllables and guttural undertones of a regretful, prowling jaguar.
"As for reasoning, consider this: if you follow me to where your brother lies, you will both die, and you will not even get to see him before you do so. I will be made to devour one or both of your flesh, and I will do so willingly or risk falling apart and dishonoring your memory."
He drew in a rattling breath that would give a skeleton a run for his money. Gods, why was he still talking?
He watched from afar as the rage that had kept him standing left him in an icy rush, and he sagged slightly. "You can either go home and wait for an uncertain future, or you can face a certain shared one with your brother in an unmarked grave in the depths of Europe. Don't be a f-cking moron, for once in your gods-d-mned life, I am begging you. Trust me this once, then you need never again."
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
Elias stared at him in silence, moments passing fast. And then, he began to laugh, letting out a humorless series of breathy chortles, because it was all he could do not to tell right then and there.
He clapped his gloved hands together, displaying a poisonous grin and waving his arms as he spoke, voice rising in volume all the while. "Well, there it is, folks -- Richard f*cking Prince, if he's even being honest about his name, pulled out his big-boy vocabulary! That's sure to make his old pal Elias run for the hills, isn't it? Because he never lets himself be angry, oh no, 'cause Elias can't take care of himself and he can't handle it, and it's all about Richard's lone fight -- because everything is awful for Richard and Richard just can't bear losing his moronic property--"
He stopped, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He didn't want to say something too irreversible, after all.
His smile fell.
"Needless to say, your answer just won't cut it. My sincerest apologies, you selfish pr*ck."
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
It was at this moment cast a very real glance of nervous fear over his shoulder.
Blue eyes and a knife-like grin stared at him back, and he still couldn't tell if they were real- especially when both expressions shifted to one of amusement.
They weren't real- they couldn't be here, they physically could not- their last note came from Luxembourg, there was absolutely no way.
(Oh, but there was, and they were, just not in that part of the garden.)
(A knife-like smile and its matching maroon eyes watched from the west as its partner's blue eyes and thinly-veiled glee stood guard in the east.)
(Richard was cornered from all four sides- by the past and future to the left and right, and by the present agony in front and behind him.)
He scowled and pressed his hands against his face, heart ceasing to beat for a handful of moments as he frantically, desperately tried to get him to understand-
"I- just. F-cking can you just- that's not even my last n- you were supposed to leave, why can you not just leave me and live- let me save him, save you- let me fixanything-
you are so f-cking st-I cannot do anything but beg, p-please-."
His heart seized his throat as he came crashing down into his own mind, and for a handful of terrible moments, it seemed as if he would choke himself trying to hold back the sudden flow of tears from his eyes.
He turned away from Elias then, staggering slightly as he tried to pull his limbs tighter and block out everything he could for even just a moment. Bile and misery rose into his mouth and it took all his control to hold back a scream that would fill the world.
Could that same world just let him have one unblemished thing?
(( Nope! :D Not yet at least XD ))
As suddenly as it hit him, the terrifying, overwhelming grief and helplessness left him, and he straightened up. It was eerie, really- one moment he was as human as any man, then the next he was back to standing with grace and lethal poise, the curiously detached tone.
"You have my apologies as well, mylimasis. For everything."
He turned to face the corpse again and did not move, save for the little twitches that wracked his body in a characteristic way when he was recoiling from pain his mind conjured up.
He would be stoic. Elias would leave, if not to find his brother, then out of irritation towards Richard. He began to think, hope, that he may live if Elias were well, yet no longer wished to see him.
He knew inwardly anything of the sort would break him.
He was just so, very tired. Elias was right- he had ruined everything. Had he not answered the door for Elias, things would have been very, very different.
Frankly, he almost just wanted to lie down and let his illness take his course. He just wanted rest- just wanted those beloved to him to stay safe and far apart from each other.
They never could play nice.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago • edited
Elias swallowed again, forcing himself to glance away from Richard's tears - he didn't bother looking back when they had finally stopped. Running two hands down his face, he let out a long groan.
More than anything in this world and the next, he wanted to go back to the Society. To be back at...'home', where things were-
Well, perhaps they weren't safe, but they were good. And it had good people, kind people.
But he couldn't. And he wouldn't be going back without his brother and without Richard. Really, he didn't consider either to be an option - he hadn't even given full thought to the very real idea that he could, and would likely, be losing someone. Which gave way to his next question:
"What happens if you don't, then? What happens if you fail and you get hurt? What happens to you, and what happens to Artemis?"
There was something terribly wrong. Wicked pain flashed beneath his eyes--
Artemis. Pretty little Artemis with his hair all tied back, happy Artemis who could never hurt a fly. Sweet boy, good boy, kind boy...
...the peculiar feeling left as soon as it came.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
His voice was hollow, empty, and haunting.
"If I fail, we all die. They will not have it any other way."
There was no guarantee that he would live through this, but Artemis's chances were much better than his. Especially considering he had enough fluid in his lungs to flood the Thames.
He muffled another copper-tinged coughing fit into the folds of his scarf and sighed, leaning on his trusty cane.
Good old Stephan, eyes as sharp as the blade hidden within the wood encircling it, could not warn its wielder of the sudden absence of two pairs of eyes.
"Elias, I beg of you, leave. No good can come from you following me this way." The words shifted and magnified, a thousand roaring whispers that turned to a crushing tide of irritation- like mosquitoes in his ears.
Each sting and bite reverberated in his skull, lashing out with white-hot bolts of fire across his skin.
He gritted his teeth as he swayed ever so slightly on his feet.
Just a few more weeks. That was all he needed.
Father Time must have been getting rather sick of his pleading.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
Elias had been carefully neglecting to make eye contact, but finally, he allowed himself to glance over again.
"Can you promise me that if Arty comes home, you will too?" His voice was all concern, bitterness replaced by weary undertones.
The words came as a shock, even to him -- since when did he ever, ever let someone sway his decisions?
A moment, and then he realized--
since Richard Prince? was the only real, appropriate answer.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
His muttered "Of course, mylimasis" tasted of nothing but lies and the bile rising in his throat.
Gods, he wanted to hold Elias, if only to feel like he was doing his job of fixing things. As it was, he couldn't help the relief that slumped his shoulders. Elias was listening to him, he would be safe, and that was all that mattered.
One down, one to go.
He hugged his arms to his chest and silenced another cough in the back of his throat, making small clicking sounds that shook his whole body.
Gods, he was so tired.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
"Good," he returned quietly.
The weight of the discussion was just so damn heavy, and yet again, Elias was subjected to the consideration that his brother wouldn't survive this.
He forced himself to veer away from those thoughts, guiding his gaze around the garden again in silence before glancing back. "I'll be waiting how long?"
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
"Two weeks at most, I believe." The lingering 'assuming all goes well' was, in and of itself, heavy enough to smother.
His hands twitched at their place on his arms, and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain still, quiet, calm, empty, hollow.
The alternative was too much trouble, at present.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
Elias sniffled softly, the last traces of his brief breakdown flashing in his bloodshot, golden eyes. "I'll be waiting for both of you."
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
Richard turned to face Elias and smiled softly, much like he had that oh-so-fateful night in the Society's kitchen.
"I shall endeavor to return the both of us home swiftly, mylimasis."
His smile dimmed slightly but fondly as he wrestled with the urge to seek one last bit of comfort and security before making his final leap of faith. He decided against it- Elias deserved to make the choice himself.
It wasn't like Richard made it easy to be loved.
(Stephan fervently wished it could inform its wielder of the twin flashes of movement behind identical rows of hedges. As it was, it could not while Richard was otherwise occupied, and so it hissed in frustration within the confines of its 'mind'.)
(Hannibal and Will crept silently and steadily further through the hedge mazes that lined the area around their latest tableau, a pair of hunters working in tandem.
There were plans to be laid, vengeance and fun to have, and control to reassert.
Will almost felt bad for Richard.
Almost.)
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago • edited
Nodding slowly, Elias straightened out, gnawing on his lip as he forced himself to steer his gaze away from Richard again. "I suppose that's it, then."
He offered a small smile in return, albeit one less fond and more distressed. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was coming -- the feeling had seized his gut half-way through their conversation, a la a warning from Oliver.
Elias hesitantly turned, and began to walk away.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
"Addio, Elias. Until familiar skies guard us both." His voice was soft, low, and carefully controlled as to not let his own hidden distress at the situation shine forth.
He turned to face the almost-hidden body again. It was recent, that much he knew- it would not have still been shrouded by its original plating had that note been the case.
One or both of them were near, then, or they had Chiyoh overseeing the setup for them.
Considering Hannibal's... attention to detail and his partnership with will, he assumed the both of them were nearby. The haste of their travel was something to consider in the light of morning, when he might actually have a chance of thinking straight.
There was a carefully calculated flash of movement in his peripheral vision, like the gleam of moonlight over teeth and steel. His stomach sank like a rock even as his heart beat steadily, as it was an entirely unsurprising confirmation of his hypothesis.
He really wasn't in any shape to fight, but that didn't stop him from engaging in an eerily silent scuffle with both of his mentors.
Like a pair of wolves circling a particularly ferocious deer, they launched themselves in alternation- Hannibal or Will would strike, move, lunge, do anything first, and then their other half would follow from behind.
It was a lesson he had only mastered once or twice, and that was while he was fully aware of his body, and his body was moving at full efficiency.
As it was, he didn't start struggling in earnest until Will got him into a chokehold. Then, his metal limbs started laying into every bit of flesh he could reach, surely leaving bruises, but hardly anything besides the fact. It wasn't like he had nails, and he had dropped Stefan to clatter softly against the gravel.
He met Will's glacial, bestial stare as he reveled in the hunt. He met Hannibal's eternally hollow eyes, eternally and quietly amused behind a no-longer-shuttered gaze.
His eyes traveled to Elias' retreating form, nearly at the entrance to the garden.
Why wasn't he trying to call out to him? He shot the thought down even as he coughed out the last bit of borrowed air from his lungs.
If he alerted Elias to his plight, Hannibal would cease becoming a bemused yet alert spectator and transform into the terrifying thing that was his lethal grace. Elias wouldn't stand a chance against him.
It was this thought, coupled with the increasing spotty darkness of his vision, that allowed him to realize one final thing before consciousness fled him:
He most likely wasn't going to see Elias or Artemis ever again.
Perhaps that was for the best.
Once Richard finally stopped struggling, Will looked down with a snarl, reduced to a halfway state between awareness and savage fury, fueled by adrenaline and bloodlust.
He and Hannibal moved in tandem, each with their own respective jobs to do. Will picked up Richard's cane as Hannibal picked up the man himself, hefting him into a fireman's carry with ease. They had hiding places here, and a carriage waiting for the three of them besides.
With a nod, Hannibal disappeared into the shadows. Will cast a quick glance over his shoulder in order to make sure that Elias was still within earshot. Fortunately for him, Elias wasn't walking all that fast. It made his next job easier.
He tied Hannibal's note around the cane's 'neck', admiring Richard's craftsmanship as always. Propping the cane against the nearest tree, he crawled up one of the stone walls of the garden, moving lithely and quietly, seen by none but the fair moon.
Upon reaching the top, he took a moment to catch his breath before knocking several stones loose on purpose as he vaulted over the other side.
They crashed into the body of the wall before falling onto gravel with a loud crunch. Satisfied, he began weaving his way through street and alleyway alike, perfectly at ease he stepped into his waiting carriage.
Hannibal smiled at him, a charming, feral thing, before he tapped on the wall to signal the driver. With hoof-beats that were all but lost to the Palmengarten echoing into the night sky, they made their way back to their temporary home.
Oh, how they loved a well-executed plan, guests included.
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chatterghosts  Tairais • 2 years ago
He had almost gotten out of the garden when he'd heard the sound of something hitting the gravel. Elias glanced over his shoulder slowly, squinting at the space Richard had occupied less than a minute before.
And then he saw the abandoned cane, and the note, and his heart stopped beating. He sprinted across, stepping over the body and grabbing the cane as he quickly tore off the attached note; his knuckles turned white as he began to read the words.
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Tairais  chatterghosts • 2 years ago
The message was simple, and all the more chilling for it.
The same elegant script that had heralded the beginning of this whole, terrible mess lay in two lines on a simple, cream-colored business card of sorts. The name of a place, and an almost polite invitation:
'Meysembourg Castle.'
'We will see you soon. Buona fortuna.'
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Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago • edited
Cheshire had fled England after the confrontation. Only for a time, a month or so at the most. He doubted that Moriarty would target his family; but even now in Frankfurt, the penultimate step in his journey back, Cheshire started to doubt it.
His appearance had turned a great many heads, and had attracted a great deal of unwanted attention. The greasepaint on his face had made him look like a very ill albino; and it was in part the effect he wanted to create. A person who people would want to avoid in this climate.
Under thick hats, coats and gloves, Cheshire had departed England with all the money he had, as well as insurance from his former place of work. From London, to Venice, and finally to Frankfurt. And all the while, Cheshire had noticed someone in each of those cities, a person that had troubled him ever since he appeared in Venice, rowing a gondola.
A man with flowing red hair, a green scarf and a long grey overcoat. He had been there in London; at the Society no doubt. Cheshire saw him only fleetingly, but the invisible man had an eye for details. The Venice appearance had been most surprising. Not because the gondola had no other passengers, or that the man rowing had no inclination for social interaction whatsoever.
Suspicious of him, and perhaps thinking he could be an agent of Moriarty, Cheshire had attempted to follow him, but the bustling nights of the city had often proven fruitless. He missed Anna. He missed Matthew. But he couldn't think of that now. Deciding to abandon Venice to the wolves, Cheshire had booked carriage and carts to make his way to Germany. It nearly cost him all he had. Cheshire knew that he would need a job; and Germany, or any country for that matter, wasn't exactly the perfect workplace for an invisible.
It was when he was strolling the streets did he notice the man again. Same clothes, posture, stance, everything. Cheshire knocked someone over as he ran. There was no question now. He was being followed. Cheshire was halfway back to his board that he realised that the man could be simply sightseeing. There were two options available: leave Frankfurt and find somewhere else; or he could confront the darkness that followed him.
He picked the latter.
After some asking around, Cheshire tailed the man to the Palmengarten. He had rid himself of his clothing, but climate didn't concern him. Cheshire made the least amount of noise possible; occasionally having to leap over gravel paths as he ventured further.
It was only a few minutes after tailing him did Cheshire see the man stop near a small patch of flora; rare flowers and lilies that he had no knowledge of their Latin names. Cheshire quietly stepped across the gravel path, and edged closer toward the figure. Who would he find? A friend? A foe?
His hand was only millimeters from the gentleman's shoulder.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
(( Richard's coat's gray, just so you know! It's the same coat that belonged to Captain Jack Harkness from Doctor Who ^^ ))
Richard so often walked the line between imagination and reality that he could seldom discern what was one, what was the other, and what was the watercolor-blurred distinction between the two.
That being said, he had learned to trust himself when the air changed stillness, and so when the peaceful calm of the garden turned to one of held-breath-anticipation, he adjusted his stance to become more akin to a parade rest, balanced on the balls of his feet.
He clenched his jaw against a wave of nausea, intrigue, and an overwhelming sense of get-out-get-out-run-this-is-not-the-plan-get-OUT, flexing and wriggling his toes in the confines of his boots.
Experience had taught him to be patient, he thought as he tilted his head to both listen and examine the choker of foxglove and nightshade around the victims throat.
Hannibal and Will had really outdone themselves this time- the boughs of the young yew tree were woven around the poor departed soul's arms and legs, effectively anchoring him in place. An almost peaceful rendition, had the man been sleeping, and not dead.
What do you ask of me, O wind? He wondered, for he had no knowledge that it was anything but.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago • edited
Cheshire was to turn the shoulder of the gentleman, spinning him round, and then question him of his incentive or affiliation with Moriarty; but that was before he heard the ruffle below him. His eyes turned to the bushes in front of the gentleman.
Cheshire had become rarely shocked, his affliction being the cause of that. The blare of horns or the sight of roadkill on the side of roads along the journey had not even caused him to stir. Invisibility had given him a certain awareness; as if there was someone walking too close behind him.
But when Cheshire looked down at the body, his unseen eyes widened, his held breath faltered; and his hand slipped back. It wasn't the first body Cheshire had seen, but hopefully it would be the last.
"What the f-"
His hands failed to silence what his mouth lumbered out. Cheshire's tongue was weighing down his jaw, his teeth gritting down to stop his outburst... but too late. What's done was done. Shit and thistles.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
He chuckled, a low, raspy thing that made his encroaching illness ever apparent. His voice, on the other hand, was carefully controlled despite its strange and patchwork accent.
"T-that w-would certainly b-be one o-of m-many appropriate r-reactions. M-might I inquire as t-to w-who it b-belongs to?"
There you are, O wind. But still, you do not give me a request. Who truly are you, and what guides you here?
He did not move from his spot, nor did he tear his eyes from the messages hidden in flesh, not even when a stag that existed to none but him began to breathe carrion down his aching spine. He gritted his teeth against the fresh, wracking pain that seared through him.
He had endured worse, and recently. This type of pain just seemed more... visceral when accompanied by things that had no place in his version of an aware mind.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
He wanted to run. To just run. Run, you idiot! Bloody run! But something held him back, the insatiable desire of curiosity. It wasn't a sin, after all. Best to use caution.
Cheshire studied the man quickly. Still the same man from Venice; and the streets of Frankfurt. But seeing him closer now; his facial features, hearing his voice; it was almost an insult to him.
His voice surprised Cheshire the most. Stuttered, ill and with no discernible accent to speak of. He wanted a English accent; a Cockney accent even better. Why couldn't he have this?
Next, he formulated a response. Cheshire could lie, risk angering this man who may have just killed another and be the next in his serial. Or he could tell the truth, and if the man was an agent of Moriarty, he would most certainly be killed.
His voice failed to make an answer, his gaze now focused on the grotesque remains.
"I'm..."
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
"Certainly n-not those w-who led me here, n-nor t-those who w-will f-follow behind me. A d-different sort of answer-s-seeker, with a d-different s-sort of agenda."
He viciously kept his voice low and melodic and did not allow even the slightest hint of raspy weakness to claw to its surface, though it did mean the Baltic origin of his accent began to melt through where it otherwise wouldn't.
"T'is m-matter of coincidence and q-question only t-that b-brings us together, then." Here, his voice held the bemused smile his eyes and hidden mouth did not. He then allowed himself a moment to ensure that his scarf and the mask hiding underneath were securely in place should words turn to blows.
"My q-question f-for you is: What do y-you want of m-me?"
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Cheshire was further surprised by the gentleman's voice. He was even more by the fact that the man hadn't killed him or attempted to. Whomever he was, he wasn't an agent of Moriarty. Or maybe that's what he wants to think?
Cheshire looked over to the body. It still turned his stomach, but he regained his composure, and managed to speak.
"Two things, who do you work for; and who was that?"
Cheshire pointed to the body, but realised that the man couldn't see his gesture and put his arm down; embarrassed for no reason.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
"T-the answer t-to both is n-no o-one, I b-believe. That p-poor soul simply h-had the m-misfortune of l-looking l-like a b-brother of mine."
Richard tilted his head, as if trying to pinpoint where exactly Cheshire's voice was coming from. He was having little luck, frankly.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Not working Moriarty.
"You killed him for looking like a brother of your's?" Cheshire, asked going near to the bush and examining the body.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
"A... m-mentor of m-mine. Not me. N-never m-me."
He caught and smothered the first flutterings of a cough in the back of his throat, waiting for another question.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
"So... you've never heard the name Moriarty... at all?" Cheshire fervently asked, turning back to the gentleman.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
Richard shook his head and bit back a chuckle. "I c-cannot s-say I h-have. W-was I s-supposed to have? I a-apologize if I h-have d-disappointed y-you so."
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
"No, no," Cheshire reassured the gentleman, relaxing. "As a matter of fact, that revelation has been the best news these past weeks. If you were, I wouldn't be here."
For the first time in the past few weeks since leaving London, Cheshire finally relaxed; but then began to wonder. Then why was he at each city I was? Or even at the Society?
"Do you know the Society for Arcane Sciences?" Cheshire asked, leaving the bush behind.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
Richard blinked slowly, but that was the only outward sign of his surprise.
"I h-happen to r-reside t-there at p-present, so b-better than most, I w-would imagine. W-why d-do you ask?"
He wondered who this Moriarty sort was, to inspire such... ferocious inquisitiveness and paranoia in this man.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Shouldn't have asked... Foolish imbecile...
"I was visiting some time ago, and believed that I saw someone with similar apparel." Cheshire replied, and suddenly felt quite cold. "Speaking of apparel, could I borrow your coat? Can't really feel many of my extremities, if you catch my meaning."
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
He narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure whether to fight, flee, or stand his ground. "Y-you likely did s-see me, as my c-coat is q-quite distinctive. I c-can l-loan you m-my c-coat only f-for t-the further d-duration of our c-conversation, as I f-find m-myself g-growing q-quite ill and w-will l-likely suffer long-t-term if I let you b-borrow it overlong."
He turned around and slid off his coat, holding out in the general direction of the invisible voice. Quite ill was an understatement, really. He had no concept of where his body was in relation to his mind- he was floating rather above it all, detached from any semblance of emotion or sense of alarm.
It would have been a disconcerting feeling, were it not for the aforementioned lack of feeling.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Cheshire took it, and began slipping it on. He wondered what it would look like from a separate party. Perhaps it would be like watching a coat come alive. Cheshire smiled at the idea.
After finishing putting it, Cheshire turned back to the gentleman, and outstretched a hand; or rather a sleeve.
"Jonathan Cheshire." he greeted.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
"R-Richard Prince." He gingerly shook the man's hand. Given the lack of awareness of his own body, he hoped he didn't crush Cheshire's fingers- metal was, after all, much stronger than flesh and blood.
Watching the coat fill out had been a very interesting experience. Though he didn't know Cheshire's thoughts, it did seem as if the coat were coming alive.
He just as gingerly broke the handshake, uncertain as to how to proceed from this point.
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Cheshire rubbed his hand, confused at the surface of the gentleman's skin. It was as if it was made of metal, almost. Must be some trick... surely?
Shrugging it off, Cheshire folded his arms.
"I'm guessing you think I must be some sort of ghost." Cheshire thought aloud. It was nice to meet someone who may understand. Or not, of course.
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
Richard chuckled and shook his head. "N-not as s-such. I h-have seen g-ghosts. You a-are n-not the s-sort to f-follow me."
Ghosts were the phantoms of Benediktas's laugh. Ghosts were the creases of Jack's smiles. Ghosts were the jokes and comfort of his mentors. Ghosts were the stag and the Patchwork Prince, regret and anger and pointless, righteous rage brought down by hubris.
His memories were ghosts, not this man... likely before him.
"B-besides, I h-have s-seen enough s-strange h-human happenstance in this w-world t-to know n-not to jump t-too q-quick to s-supernatural s-suspicions."
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Cheshire laughed at the absurdity. Ghosts... right... He had never personally believed in such things. But after encountering the many wonderful notions of absurdity at the Society of Arcane Sciences; Cheshire began to believe in a few more impossible beliefs.
"So, what brought you to Amsterdam?" Cheshire asked offhandedly. Might as well try to find out some more about him. He was at the Society after all. Cheshire shivered. "The weather?"
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Tairais  Dr. H. Griffin • 2 years ago
Richard chuckled again. "T-the p-people and t-the sight-seeing, actually."
In hindsight, perhaps that was a poor joke to make. It wasn't like he had it him to care overly much.
"I t-take it from y-your earlier l-line of inquiry y-you c-came looking f-for someone, y-yes? Or p-perhaps r-running away."
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Dr. H. Griffin  Tairais • 2 years ago
Cheshire shuffled his feet, feeling the cold green grass between his toes. Should I tell him? Would he be sympathetic or apathetic?
"I am running away, yes." Cheshire replied; he may as well have a friend out here. "As you can see, being invisible isn't exactly a favourable condition in England. Nor anywhere else... I had to leave my family, you see. They must be worried sick right now."
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