Hermitage

[eileen303]

Hiatus Snapshots, monthly or less

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Breaking Things (January)

[eileen303]

Going off-world was supposed to make things better. They were supposed to be protected, they were supposed to recover, they were supposed to get to know each other better and start to live the lives they wanted to. But month one has turned out to be anything but

Re: Breaking Things (January)

[eileen303]

She made a mess or three when it peaked. She'd never in her life turned destructive, not even at her most frustrated, but more than once she found herself breaking things that weren't even theirs. Henry looked utterly shocked the first time some flatware went flying, but the second time, he just seemed so sad, looked at her knowingly and longingly. She could tell what was on his mind, could tell that he thought that it wasn't really her behind the wheel. That made her angry too, though a distant part of her had to think he had a point. Kicking a table leg in frustration isn't out of the picture, and busting a toe for her trouble, but hurling glass has never been her style. Maybe he was right, the things he left unsaid. Maybe she was even crazier than she'd thought.

But most of it, she knows he's wrong about that. She doesn't get to blame the anger on anything alien. It's hers. It's hers, it's just that she'd never felt angry like this. She couldn't have afforded to. Rebuilding her blood supply in the hospital, there was

Taking the Plunge (February)

[eileen303]

When rebuilding her wardrobe after the great catastrophe that drove her to Portland, there had been a new consideration every bit as important as sizing. Picking through partywear and datewear, her preferences in necklines had changed. She'd been a fan of halters and sweethearts before, asymmetrics when feeling particularly saucy, but now she had to take care to ensure that her back was well concealed. Whether this meant tacking on an unwanted blouse or shawl, or whether it meant moving to bateaus or high-backed scoop necks, coverage was paramount. She found she could really care less about the couple faint lines on her arms and legs, or the one drawing from shoulder to collarbone. Those could be surgical scars or the aftermath of a car accident, for all any onlooker would know. But given an eyeful of knotted numbers, total strangers would instantly be able to picture exactly what must have happened. A waiter, a dancer, another couple on a date of their own could summon up mental images of her being..... yeah, no, we don't want

Re: Taking the Plunge (February)

[eileen303]

She has butterflies in her stomach when she tries it on, pretty sizable fruit bats as she buys it, and a flock of pissed off birds of prey when sliding into it for the date of its debut. She's not likely to have her back to him much tonight, but it calls for summoning a stupid amount of courage to wear it in his presence, even more so than wearing it in the presence of strangers. Which is odd when she thinks about it, given that Henry has most decidedly already seen those scars. He saw them blood-crusted and freshly carved, for one thing. And since then, he's seen them often and up close, albeit while distracted by equally bare and arguably more compelling features. So it's not that she fears he'll be shocked, only that she doesn't want him thinking on the vicious past, not tonight, and she certainly doesn't want to provide fodder for his self-castigation. There will be no disgust on his face, she knows, but catching a glimpse of him looking pained or worried or sad, she could work up a good freaking-out about that

Rifts (February)

[eileen303]

Her boyfriend never gives her flowers, and it's pretty much her fault.

The trouble with Henry is that he is a romantic who doesn't know how to be romantic. He admitted, ruefully though not particularly embarrassed as far as she could tell, that he'd never been in a serious relationship with any other woman before her. She can easily see how that happened, too shy and never enough hope that he would've asked a crush for dinner or a movie, and so withdrawn as to seem aloof or uncaring, enough to convince any girl who noticed him that chances were slim he'd even give her the time of day. It had worked that way on her, in any case. The guy next door is cute, nice hands and nice eyes, but if he barely even says hello to me, no way he's ever going to pop off a compliment or a "do you like Italian?", no way they'd survive even ten minutes together

Gifts (February)

[eileen303]

The second time was in Portland, and it didn't go quite as well. Walter in his childlike guise had begun to haunt their footsteps again, though he hadn't broken out the heavy weaponry nor banished any of their friends to alternate dimensions yet. Only pledged affection for the mother of his obsessive delusions, and demanded hers in return. Henry walked his friend home from work at night, watched her with worried eyes and sometimes wasn't terribly successful at concealing yearning while he was at it. And one afternoon, he left a prearranged pink cluster of french tulips, bells of Ireland, baby's breath, and lilies on her kitchen counter, the stems still wrapped in shining plastic from the florist. She awww'd again and threw in a "You didn't have to!" He was obviously regretting the move, explaining that she'd been under a lot of stress lately. She put an arm around his shoulders and thanked him. If she'd kissed his cheek as it had occurred to her to do, maybe the reward would have offset the uncomfortable dance on the line between

Eve of Return: Convergence (March)

[eileen303]

Talking Henry out of going to Silent Hill should not have been that hard, a real marathon of sort-of-arguing. His premises were poorly-articulated and sometimes flawed, save for one. You're going to make me watch you go every year for the rest of my life? Please don't. But Eileen had good cards and was not afraid to play them, over and over and over. Your memory, Henry, your memory, Henry, your memory. You won't be "watching me go," I'll be taking ninety seconds dropping some flowers, I'll use my phone rather than my car. Yes, I have to. I have to, it's just the way the dice fell that some of them are buried there. The ones in Ashfield and Pleasant River, we'll drive to those together, but you can't go back to that town. I'm not backing down on this. Your memory, Henry. You can't.

He won't.

It obviously left a sour aftertaste for him, both the act of disagreeing and the outcome. She, on the other hand, won, and was sort of pleased besides that he had argued back. There'd been a time, once, when he wouldn't have dared

Re: Eve of Return: Convergence (March)

[eileen303]

He showed her how it worked once, when she asked him to. Not in the expectation that she'd pick up the hobby herself, she'd just wanted to have a couple photos of him for a change, and it had given him half an hour of fun. Silly little things like showing her how the scroll wheel worked, or explaining the rule of thirds, and his eyes just about lit up, his thought process couldn't have been clearer if he'd spelled it out. "I am SPEAKING. About PHOTOGRAPHY. To my VISUALLY APPEALING GIRLFRIEND. Who is LISTENING TO ME." Who wouldn't feel valued, with such a high premium put on their interest

Eve of Decision: Independence (March)

[eileen303]

They'd been losing track of dates that summer. Every day dragged on so damn long, thinking about how long it must be dragging on for Liz and knowing how long it just dragged on for her husband. And for the two of them, even though every day took them farther away from the bullet wounds on the Sherman-Townshends' front porch, they knew that it was running up their odds on accumulating more. Walter would wait forever for his mother if he had to, but the problem was that he soon wouldn't have to any more. With power enough to wreck torturous vengeance for every moment apart from her, he'd cut that waiting short right quickly. Every hour made it more likely that he'd come striding through the room in the next moment, with knives and guns for twin men and some unknown surprises for her

Re: Eve of Decision: Independence (March)

[eileen303]

His reaction time had always trumped hers. He didn't need to lunge, she was right there pressed up against him, and his arms were even already wrapped around her. How convenient. They didn't know which direction the shot had come from but their brains pinged with a vague sense that it had come from the direction of the living room and so he shoved both of them into the corner. The back of her head hit the wall quite soundly, thank you, breath rushed out in an undignified "Oomph!", she saw stars but that was nothing compared to the awful overtime pounding her heart had gone into, like it would explode from her chest and she'd die feeling a profound affinity with John Hurt. And in that split-second of terror it's no wonder she could hear Henry's too, it was right there under her ear, he'd flung himself over her like a particularly heavy lanky bullet-soaking blanket. It had to have been all his body's doing and none of his brain's, not on that kind of short notice, though she knows that given a moment to process, his brain would

Re: Eve of Decision: Independence (March)

[eileen303]

They'd been losing track of dates that summer. Every day dragged on so damn long, thinking about how long it must be dragging on for Liz and knowing how long it just dragged on for her husband. And for the two of them, even though every day took them farther away from the bullet wounds on the Sherman-Townshends' front porch, they knew that it was running up their odds on accumulating more. When July 4th came, independence was not on their minds, only separation. Sweat has beaded on his face and some of his bangs are sticking by the time he finally lowers his guard a solid two minutes and many harmless explosions later. Her sweet photographer puts down his gun, and she wonders if he is ever equally disturbed and taken aback to see one in his waitress's hands. He turns in her arms and takes her in his, gingerly stroking the back of her head where he must've heard her skull hit plaster. The current of understanding is faltering as the world becomes complicated and mundane again, but she can still hear him making unspoken pledges,