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Post by Sastre Quicksilver on May 18, 2011 16:54:27 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Sastre Quicksilver So take what I left you for the pain
And do your best to forget my name... - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre watched.
Across the street from the shop, leaning in the shadows of narrow alley between two buildings, she watched through the open garage door as Brennan went back and forth between the inside of the shop to her Explorer, loading the supplies that Sastre knew to mean the witch was intending on heading out for a long hunt. Parked beside Brennan's explorer was Ellia's small, blue rust-bucket of a car, and the sight of it--while not entirely surprising--caused Sastre's heart to sink.
Burying her emotion and reminding herself that she'd expected this to happen, Sastre simply continued to watch, amazed by how uncomfortable she felt being this close to Brennan, and the shop, and the memories that came along with them. She had sworn to herself months ago that she'd never return here, not wanting to interfere with however Brennan had decided to move on, and not wanting to face the fact that she was once again alone. She didn't want to be here... It was just too hard...
She'd only managed to make it an hour or so away from Madison's house after dropping Florian off before she'd gotten a call from the man. Keeping his voice calm and steady to try and hide the underlying tension that Sastre had instantly picked up on, Florian had told her in no uncertain terms that she had to go see Brennan. A part of her scoffed at the thought that Florian would order her around like that; after all, he had months ago handed over the reins to her entirely, and told her that she was no longer his student, but rather new Sastre Quicksilver in both name and action now. Still, after nearly a year of training and following orders, it was impossible for her to just not do as he said, and after hours and hours of driving without stopping any longer than it took to gas up, she was here.
As Brennan disappeared into the shop once more, Sastre made her move, gliding soundlessly across the street and stopping just before crossing the threshold of the garage. She knew well about the wards that were placed there, and all along the shop as well. They had been keyed to her back when she and Brennan had first gotten together, and if the witch was to be believed, not only would the wards recognize her presence, but Brennan and Lillian themselves would also sense her when she moved through them. One more step, and there would be no going back.
Praying that whatever was so urgent would be resolved quickly so she could get out of here an on with her new life, Sastre took a deep breath and stepped into the garage, moving out of the light and into the shadows, awaiting Brennan's return.
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Post by Abigail Faraday-Brennan on May 20, 2011 20:04:04 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background-image:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/x1k6fl.png), width: 400px; height: 400px;] What's the point of being alive, If all I want is out? What do you do when you've got nothing left? I can't hold on when I'm stretched so thin
I make the right moves but I'm lost within
I put on my daily facade but then
I just end up getting hurt again
By myself Brennan couldn’t bear to stay in one place any longer. It was always worst when she had to sit still, when there was nothing to occupy her mind and keep her thoughts from turning to that dark day last year when everything had fallen apart. First the attack at Madison’s house, and then the letter… Shoving those thoughts violently away, Brennan tried to throw her whole mind into the drudgery of the task at hand in an attempt to numb the pain. But she knew too well that such an attempt was useless. She’d stayed at the shop, idle, for too long, and the memories were starting to resurface like cold water through a crack in the ice, slowly leeching into her mind. But instead of bringing a blessed, numbing cold, all they brought was a sharp, debilitating pain that stole her breath away. They were a reminder of what she could have had, if she’d been better, stronger. If only she and Lily had been able to take out Darian when they’d had the chance, everything would have been so different now. Realizing that the memories had won out over her flimsy control once again, Brennan squeezed her eyes closed and braced herself against the door frame of her Explorer, letting her head fall against her arm. The only thing that would save her now was the hunt. Her mother, Madison, Ellia, and the others tried to be supportive and give her what relief they could, but there were a thousand little reminders of Lily that brought everything crashing back again. Only Allison seemed able to keep them away while she was home, and even then she only slowed them down. Eventually, it would be too much, and Brennan would once again throw herself single mindedly into the hunt, the constant life and death struggle leaving no room for them to eat away at her. Until nighttime, anyway. Brennan was so tired, body and soul, and all she longed for was an end to the pain, a moment of rest. She hated hurting her family and friends this way, and so she forced herself to stay and spend time with them as often as she could manage. But while her body was still, her mind ran unhindered, and then the memories came. All she could do was work herself into exhaustion every day and pray that when she finally collapsed into bed, sleep would take her quickly. And even then, most of the time the dreams woke her, and the whole cycle would begin anew. Brennan had no firsthand experience as to what hell was like, but she imagined it must be something very close to this. “You could stay, you know.”Brennan started guiltily at her mother’s voice, straightening and shoving her forgotten gear into the hatchback. “It’ll only be worse if I do.”Lillian Brennan leaned quietly against the hood of her Explorer for a long moment, quietly watching her work. Brennan fidgeted under her calmly measuring gaze, trying to ignore her scrutiny as she lifted a heavy weapons case and slid it neatly between two other cartons of supplies. After a moment, the elder witch spoke again. “She needs you here. You know how she panics when you leave.”Brennan froze, squeezing her eyes closed in shame. Of all the people who’d had to put up with her in this state, her mother and Allison had borne the brunt of it. Brennan hated hurting them, over and over again, but it was the only way she had found to keep herself sane. It had taken every last shred of her willpower not to turn to easy escapes, such as drinking, but Sastre had taught her better than that. She had learned by his example, and she had refused to touch a drop of alcohol in his absence, fearing that she would lose control and it would consume her life as it had his. But she needed something to keep the pain at bay, and so she left, though she wanted nothing more than to stay. Yet another reminder of how weak she truly was. Blinking her eyes open again, Brennan slowly turned to face her mother, unable to meet her level gaze. “I can’t be what she needs right now. I’m sorry. If I stay, it’ll only get worse.”Lillian watched her daughter silently for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh and crossed to her, wrapping her in the circle of her arms. Brennan nearly melted into her, almost moved to tears by the act, but even this was a reminder of the arms that should have been holding her and never would again. After a moment, she gently pulled away, and Lillian held her at arms length. “Come back to us when you can, Abbie.”Nodding, the witch turned mutely back to her task, her chest tight, as Lillian pushed the button to open the garage door and set off on some errand or another. She worked on diligently for another quarter of an hour, finally returning to the shop for her last load. Izzy and Allison were already in bed, and Ellia was nowhere to be found, probably locked away in the library with an instrument or a book. This left the shop blessedly silent and dark, and Brennan quickly grabbed her purse and her keys, grateful that she had already said her goodbyes. Leaving was almost as hard as staying, and she always dreaded the terrible sadness and resignation that crept into Allison’s eyes whenever she had to tell her she was going out again. Trying to shove the mental image from her mind, Brennan had descended the stairs and was halfway back to the garage when the sensation hit her, nearly dropping her to her knees. The witch’s magic had been… uncooperative, at best, these last few months, but she could still sense and interact with the wards. And right now, they were telling her something impossible. The familiar presence, once so welcome, now struck her down like a kick in the guts. Staring toward the door to the garage in utter disbelief, Brennan slowly stood and stumbled clumsily to lean on the frame, searching for the impossible. It had to be a mistake. The wards must be malfunctioning. But no, the wards were a constant, reassuring hum in the back of her mind, and she had never once known them to fail or read falsely. More likely, this was yet another symptom of her crumbling control, striking at her in the most painful way yet. But even as Brennan thought this, she caught sight of the figure standing just over the threshold, still as a statue, and gazing at her impassively. She was deeply tanned, and her blonde hair, ruffling slightly in the gentle breeze, hung just long enough to brush her shoulders. She looked very different from the woman she remembered, and Brennan could see little else of her, hidden as she was within her long trench coat, but there was no mistaking it. A spirit wouldn’t have been able to pass through the wards or the salt lacing the very mortar of the building. A demon would have had similar trouble, and the devils traps hidden across every entrance would have given them similar pause. Brennan’s face drained of all color as she realized that nothing capable of impersonating another human being could have made it to where the figure now stood, still staring at her expressionlessly. Taking an unsteady step forward, Brennan managed to force out one, strangled word as her chest tightened and her emotions threatened to overwhelm her completely. “Lil?” |
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Post by Sastre Quicksilver on May 22, 2011 13:15:43 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Sastre Quicksilver So take what I left you for the pain
And do your best to forget my name... - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sight of Brennan caused Sastre's breath to catch in her throat.
Quickly clamping down on her emotions, Sastre returned Brennan's incredulous gaze with one of absolute cool. This was proving to be so much harder than she'd thought it would be, and she prayed that whatever business she had here, whatever it was that Florian thought so important that it needed her presence, would be resolved quickly so she could be on her way. It wasn't only that she didn't want to be here, that the memories of her time at the shop with Brennan were just too painful to relive, though that was a major part of it. Rather, she was hunting something.
Or, to be more precise, being hunted...
Letting her cold eyes linger on Brennan, Sastre remained silent as she attempted to organize her thoughts, to find something to say to the woman that she'd honestly believed loved her. Throughout all of their time together, Sastre--as Lily--had always assumed that someday Brennan would realize that she'd made a mistake, and that she could do so much better than Lily. It was just a fact of life that the hunter had resigned herself to, though she'd always been determined to enjoy what time they had together, before Brennan decided to move on. When they'd gotten married, that fear had subsided a bit, and Lily had allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, Brennan really did want to be with her for the rest of their lives...
She couldn't keep her eyes from flicking briefly toward Ellia's car, her stomach in knots though she hid her discomfort well, as she'd been trained to do. Returning her steady, unwavering gaze to Brennan--who looked like she was about to keel over from the shock of seeing her here--Sastre finally spoke, her voice quiet but carrying easily across the short distance between them.
"I'm not here to cause any trouble," she said, gesturing absently toward Ellia's car. "And I promise I won't stay long..." She fell silent again, her resolve wavering a bit as she wanted nothing more than to just turn around and walk away. But no... Florian had told her it was important that she come to see Brennan, and while he hadn't said why, Sastre knew that he wouldn't ask such a thing of her unless it was of the utmost importance.
"I wouldn't have even come to disturb you and Ellia, but someone told me that it was very important that I come talk to you. So... here I am." Meeting Brennan's eyes and holding them with her own, she added, "And its Sastre now. Lily is dead."
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Post by Abigail Faraday-Brennan on May 22, 2011 15:15:06 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background-image:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/x1k6fl.png), width: 400px; height: 400px;] What's the point of being alive, If all I want is out? What do you do when you've got nothing left? What am I gonna do
When the best part of me was always you?
What am I supposed to say
When I'm all choked up and you're okay?
I'm falling to pieces... Brennan could only stare mutely at the apparition before her, still reeling from the shock of seeing Lily standing there in front of her, very much alive. This couldn’t be happening. She’d made no deals with demons, though the temptation had nearly proved too much to bear, and no angels had answered her prayers. Yet there she stood, solid and unwavering before her, merely a handful of strides away. Brennan started to take a shaking step forward, longing to cross the short distance and wrap Lily in her arms, reassure herself that this wasn’t merely some dream or hallucination. But Lily continued to just stand there, impassive and unmoving, and her cold, emotionless glare slammed into her like a slap in the face. This… wasn’t right. Something was seriously wrong here. This unexpected, alien emotion directed at her was enough to lift the witch’s shock a little and clear her head long enough for the hunter’s words to reach her. Following Lily’s brief glance, Brennan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ellia and I aren’t… she’s just…”Falling silent again as more of the hunter’s words registered, a stricken, hurt look flickered over her features. “You… weren’t going to come back…?”Unable to tear her eyes away from her onetime lover, a sudden, terrible understanding broke over her, cold horror dawning as she realized the implications of the hunter’s final words. Sastre. She was Sastre now. Despite all of her reassurances, all her promises about being in this together, about being able to handle anything together, she had inevitably cast her aside in favor of devoting her life to this. The realization hurt more than Brennan could ever have imagined, and her head reeled as she realized that everything had been a lie. The wedding, their plans for settling down together, her death. Brennan could do nothing but stare at her in complete and utter shock for the space of several heartbeats as all the pieces fell into place and her world fell apart. How could she do this to her? How could she possibly hate her so much that she could just use her in her elaborate scheme? Had any of it been real? And Sastre… no. That would make him Florian, now. She had thanked him for refusing to pass on his name and the burden that accompanied it to his daughter, thus allowing them to escape this life for a better one. At the time, Brennan had taken his discomfort at face value, assuming he was unhappy she had figured out his secret and preferred that she not speak of it. Had it really been guilt on his part, knowing what was to come? Had they been planning this from the very beginning? And looking at the cold, hard woman standing before her, Brennan had no doubt that Lily Faraday was indeed dead, if the Lily she’d known had ever really existed at all. Squeezing her eyes closed as everything crumbled around her, Brennan managed to speak as the shock numbed her and allowed her a few brief moments of control. The witch clung desperately to her composure, lifting her gaze to meet Sastre’s, though she couldn’t hide the raw pain and betrayal shining in her eyes. “This… this whole time? This was all so you could be Sastre? None of it was real?” she accused in disbelief, forcing the words out as her chest tightened painfully. Wiping away the tears that slowly started to fall, Brennan forced herself to continue holding the hunter’s dispassionate gaze. “If you didn’t want me, you could’ve just said so. I would’ve understood.” Unable to hold the hunter’s eyes any longer, Brennan wrapped her arms about herself and squeezed her eyes closed. Her tears started to fall in earnest as the shock started to wear off, and her next words were barely more than a whisper. “You didn’t have to be so cruel about it.” Not waiting for a response, Brennan bit back a sob and turned to stumble back through the door of the shop. She needed to leave, right now. She couldn’t stand there anymore, enduring that cold, unfeeling stare from the woman she had loved. A woman who obviously hadn’t returned her feelings. God, she’d never thought that anything could hurt worse than thinking Lily was dead, but it utterly paled in comparison to knowing that Lily was alive and just didn’t want her. Fighting to endure this fresh wave of torment, Brennan managed to somehow make it up the stairs, unseeing, not bothering to close the door behind her. The witch stumbled blindly into her room, unable to even reach her bed before collapsing, instead sliding to the floor and curling into a ball before losing it completely. |
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Post by Sastre Quicksilver on May 29, 2011 16:02:11 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Sastre Quicksilver So take what I left you for the pain
And do your best to forget my name... - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre could only watch in undisguised confusion as Brennan turned and fled.
The witch's words lingered for a long time in her mind, and any grasp that she'd had on her hard-won control simply crumbled away. What had just happened? How could Brennan not know what was going on? And why, at first, had the witch looked at Sastre like she was seeing a ghost? A sick feeling began to settle in the pit of her stomach as she realized that something was very, very wrong here.
For a long while, though, Sastre couldn't bring herself to follow after Brennan, and she stood rooted in place in the garage. Of all the possibilities that she'd been expecting, Brennan's reaction hadn't been one of them. Sastre had thought maybe that the witch would be upset to see her, thinking that she'd come to cause trouble with her apparent relationship with Ellia; or maybe Brennan would be civil, but cool, like someone who's run into an old friend that they didn't particularly care for after a long time apart. This, though... This obvious shock and sadness, it hadn't even occurred to Sastre as a possibility.
What had happened, while she was gone?
Finally managing to shake off her own confusion, Sastre hesitantly stepped into the shop, making her way through and up the stairs. As she did so, she felt sort of like a ghost, haunting a place that had once felt so much like home. The two of them had spent a lot of time together here, and those once-good memories now felt like a cold knife plunging into her chest. All they did was remind her of what had been, and of what she'd lost... Try as she might, Sastre couldn't shake this feeling, and she was too far gone for any of her calming exercises to work.
Upon reaching Brennan's room and seeing the witch collapsed on the floor sobbing, Sastre felt her stomach twist. Stepping inside, she closed the door softly behind her, leaning back against it and watching Brennan, unsure of what to say or do. Wrapping her arms around herself to fight off a sudden chill, Sastre opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, finding no words coming.
It was a long, long time before she finally managed.
"I wasn't trying to be cruel," she said softly, not even knowing if Brennan could hear her over the sounds of her own sobs. "And none of this was... was planned, Brennan..." Taking a hesitant step forward and kneeling down beside her, Sastre finally asked the question that had been bothering her the most.
"Did you read any of my letters? I thought I made everything pretty clear in them..."
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Post by Abigail Faraday-Brennan on May 30, 2011 11:35:43 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background-image:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/x1k6fl.png), width: 400px; height: 400px;] What's the point of being alive, If all I want is out? What do you do when you've got nothing left? Did you ever care about me?
I remember the time
You looked in my eyes
And promised...
We'd stay together, our love would grow stronger
The storms we had weathered wouldn't last any longer
But we'll never know how good it could be
This isn't how it should be... Brennan had never imagined pain such as this. It utterly dwarfed her feelings of the last year and more, washing them out with fresh wave upon wave of agony. She didn’t want her. She’d been lying to her all this time, after all her false promises. After she’d said she loved her. And now she was leaving again, after just waltzing in and destroying Brennan completely. Which begged the question, why was she here in the first place? Her cover had worked. Brennan had been completely convinced she was dead. There was no reason for her to do this, unless she wanted her to suffer. No, she had said someone had sent her. For one brief, terrible moment, Brennan wondered if Mara had somehow managed to arrange this. She and Lily had met back before all this happened, and the hunter would have no idea she was no longer to be trusted. But that was impossible. Brennan had sent the insidious demon back to hell where she belonged, and she wouldn’t be getting out again anytime soon. But who, then? The witch’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to her room clicked quietly shut. Brennan didn’t need to look to know who it was. Izzy, or Ellia, or even Allison would have come to her, tried to comfort her. Sastre did none of those things, merely remaining quietly by the door, watching. Brennan curled in even tighter on herself, hating that Sastre would see her like this, utterly broken. But she had little other choice. She was too distraught and exhausted to stand, and it would look even worse if she tried. Sastre’s words caught her off guard, stilling her chaotic thoughts for a moment, though her sobbing continued. She wasn’t trying to be cruel? What did she want from her, then? Forcing the words out, though her chest felt as if it had been crushed, she managed to give voice to her question. “Then why are you doing this?” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes closed. “What do you want from me?”Brennan stilled as Sastre approached and kneeled slowly next to her rather than answer. For a moment, her heart leapt, and she thought the hunter would take her in her arms and explain everything. Give her some rational explanation, and everything would be okay again. But Sastre’s expression never changed, maintaining the detached mask she had worn since arriving, and once she was settled next to Brennan, she made no move to comfort her. Lily really was gone, then. Either that, or Brennan had done something so terrible that the hunter had forsaken her completely. Was she upset that Brennan hadn’t come looking for her? Angry that she’d gone off on some secret mission with Florian and left her there to face Darian alone? Brennan nearly lost it all over again, having wanted nothing more these past several months than to feel Lily’s arms around her once more, but she managed to hold it together enough to hear Sastre’s question. “What… what letters?” she asked in confusion, gasping for breath as her chest remained painfully tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only got one letter…”Brennan squeezed her eyes closed again as a fresh wave of memories washed over her. At first, she had been in shock, refusing to believe the four words scrawled in Sastre’s unmistakable handwriting. This had to be another of his tricks, there must be some reason why it was important for her to think she was gone. He must be trying to get her out of Darian’s sight forever, staging her death so he could set her up somewhere far away, out of the vampire’s reach. So, Brennan had waited impatiently for another letter or a phone call to come, explaining everything. But after days of waiting, no relief came, and a cold hard fear settled slowly into Brennan’s heart. So she went back to the letter, putting it through every test, every code, every cipher she knew, looking for some hidden message. There was nothing. And after so many days of hope, Brennan finally broke and accepted the terrible truth that had been glaring at her from the beginning. Lily Faraday was dead. Lies. All of it lies. Perhaps she had sent a letter explaining herself. Perhaps she hadn’t. All that mattered now was that she obviously didn’t care about her anymore. “How could you do this to me?” Brennan whispered before she knew she was speaking, her voice ragged. “I thought you were dead. How could you h… hate me so much?”Brennan trailed off as the tears threatened to overwhelm her, but she managed to maintain her tenuous shred of control for a few moments more. “I’m so tired of hurting,” she managed, her voice quiet and exhausted, barely more than a whisper. “Please, whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want me, just go. Please, I don’t want to hurt anymore.”As her control slipped away and she was once again overwhelmed by the pain, Brennan could only pray that Sastre would see the truth of her words and leave her in peace. |
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Post by Sastre Quicksilver on Jun 6, 2011 20:53:26 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Sastre Quicksilver So take what I left you for the pain
And do your best to forget my name... - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Something was terribly, horribly wrong.
Sastre felt her stomach twist when this realization struck her. Brennan had never received her letters. There was no doubt in her mind about that now. This hopeless, mournful reaction from her former-lover was no act, that much was obvious to Sastre. All these months of thinking that Brennan had forsaken her, had moved on and left Sastre all alone, had all been the result of some gut-wrenching mistake. God, how could this have happened? Brennan admitted to having received the first letter, and Sastre and Florian had known that the news of Lily's death had at least reached her, for they themselves had knelt at the tombstone that Brennan had had erected for her. They had just assumed that, since that first letter had gotten through, the rest would too. But none of them had ever been returned, so they'd gone somewhere...
Sastre's mind was a riot of detached, frenzied, panicked thoughts. How this have happened? And how could she ever have doubted Brennan? Was this the urgent matter that Florian had told her about, the reason that he'd been so adamant about her returning here to see Brennan? Perhaps Madison had told him about their honest belief of Lily's death... Perhaps she'd told Florian that he needed to call her, so that she could come here and try to put the pieces of her relationship with Brennan back together...
Reaching out hesitantly, Sastre rested a hand on Brennan's shoulder, her expression finally softening as she understood the pain that the witch must have been experiencing. She'd gone through it all herself, in a way: the belief that Brennan was gone, that she didn't want her any more, that she was all alone, and that the several whirlwind months that they'd been together were all nothing but a lie.
"Brennan... Brennan, listen," Sastre said, softly but hurriedly. "I sent you another letter, after that first one... One that explained everything that had happened, and what my plan was. One that told you I'd be back, as soon as I could..." Moving closer, she shifted to slip her arm around Brennan's quaking shoulders, ignoring the feeling of sick terror that welled up within her at such contact.
"Please believe me, Brennan, I never wanted things to happen like this. I wrote you... so many times. Almost everyday, for months." Swallowing her own grief and keeping a tight hold on her emotions, Sastre plunged on. "But... I never heard back. So finally I wrote one last letter, with an ultimatum: if I didn't hear back from you, I'd assume you'd moved on, and that it was over between us..." Clenching her eyes shut at the memories, Sastre's voice was low as she finished, "I never heard back..."
Falling silent again, Sastre tried her hardest to ignore the waves of nausea that were steadily washing over her, both from the physical contact and the realization that a terrible mistake had been made. She's spent such a long time hardening her heart to this, to Brennan and what they'd once had, and now she realized that all of her efforts had been unnecessary, and in vain. And now, she feared that there was no going back for her...
"God, Brennan, I am so, so sorry..."
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Post by Abigail Faraday-Brennan on Jun 16, 2011 0:36:01 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background-image:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/x1k6fl.png), width: 400px; height: 400px;] What's the point of being alive, If all I want is out? What do you do when you've got nothing left? I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating... Against all logic, as Sastre finally reached out to rest her hand on Brennan’s shoulder, the witch flinched and drew away, squeezing her eyes closed. As much as she had wanted this, had longed for it above all else, it wasn’t the same coming from this aloof mockery of her onetime lover and wife. There was no compassion, no tenderness in this woman. She seemed stripped of all emotion, her gaze merely hard and calculating, as if studying a problem that was giving her particular difficulty. This stark comparison to what Brennan had hoped for was infinitely worse than if she hadn’t reached for her at all. Sobbing harder, Brennan tried to pull away, praying that Sastre would just leave her alone, but the hunter kept her hand firmly in place, calling her name to get her attention. Her energy long since spent past making any serious struggle, Brennan fell back in defeat, turning her face to the floor. Please, just let it be over soon.Brennan listened in an exhausted daze as Sastre informed her that she’d told her everything in a second letter, utterly resigned and uncaring. It changed nothing. She’d still left her to become Sastre Quicksilver, as she’d wanted to all along. Knowing then, or knowing now would have made little difference to her. Actually, she would have preferred not knowing entirely. At least then she still would’ve believed she’d lost Lily to circumstances outside their control, against her will. God, this was worse. How could anything be worse? She hadn’t thought it possible to feel even more miserable than she had been already. She was almost too far gone to register her words, but suddenly, Sastre’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close, her voice finally breaking through her despondency. “You… you wrote me?” Brennan asked hesitantly, her breath still coming with difficulty. “You were coming back? This wasn’t… wasn’t just some plan you had all along? It wasn’t just a cover?”Hardly daring to hope, Brennan turned her face up toward the hunter’s, her breath catching at the raw emotion visible on the hunter’s face. For a moment, looking up into Lily’s open, unguarded gaze, Brennan softened, her heart going out to the young woman. She was almost as upset as Brennan was, though she was doing a lot better job of controlling herself. This was all just a terrible mistake. They could mend things, pick up the pieces and start anew. Everything really was going to be okay. Letting out a relieved sob, Brennan buried her face against her companion, taking comfort in her long absent embrace. But then reality came crashing back to her, and Brennan squeezed her eyes closed against the terrible truth. Lily was gone. She was Sastre now, and nothing else, by her own admission, and if her earlier comments were any indication, she no longer seemed willing to slow down enough for any sort of relationship. Sagging back and turning her face back to the floor, Brennan shook her head, her voice raw and quiet with exhaustion. “What does it matter what I believe?” she asked, curling in on herself once more. “You already said you were just going to be leaving again. It doesn't matter what I think. What I want.”Shaking her head, Brennan's next words were no more than a mournful whisper. “Why didn’t you just come home?” |
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Post by Sastre Quicksilver on Jun 20, 2011 22:19:55 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] Sastre Quicksilver So take what I left you for the pain
And do your best to forget my name... - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre remained silent for a long time.
She kept her arm around Brennan’s shoulders, rubbing her back soothingly. Clenching her own eyes shut against the riot of horrendous images and memories that accompanied this simple physical contact, Sastre couldn’t have spoken even if she wanted to. Despite the difficulty, though, she refused to let go of Brennan, knowing that Sastre’s touch might help get through to her.
Florian had been right. Something was very wrong here, some sort of huge misunderstanding or confusion had nearly destroyed what she and Brennan had built together. Truthfully, it might have even already been too late to undo. What could she say to her? What could she do to convince the witch that all of this had just been a mistake? A horrible, twisted mistake…?
“Brennan, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Sastre said softly, silently thanking Florian for the training that was allowing her to keep such a tight rein on her own emotions. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? At least not right away, not now. We need to talk about this, and figure out what’s going on.” Reaching down hesitantly, Sastre gently took Brennan’s hand and gave her a slight pull, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Come sit with me. Please?”
Slowly, as if in a daze, Brennan staggered to her feet and moved the short distance to collapse onto the bed beside Sastre. Still holding onto the witch’s hand, the blonde woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes, running through a mental exercise to calm her mind and clear it of the painful memories that were even now threatening to overwhelm her, all from the simple act of holding Brennan’s hand. Sastre still wasn’t good with the whole “touching” thing, and she wondered when—or if—she ever would be again…
“I couldn’t come home, Brennan, at least not right away,” Sastre told her honestly, finally opening her eyes as she spoke. “When Florian—that’s the previous Sastre’s name by the way, my father?—when he found me, I was…” Blinking, Sastre gently let go of Brennan’s hand, resting hers on her knees as she fought the never-ending waves of gruesome, painful memories from her captivity that seemed to accompany any and all physical contact that she attempted any more.
She pressed on, her words coming more rapidly now.
“I was hurt, and sick. Dying, really. He took me to someone he knew and trusted, and she eventually healed me. But it took months, Brennan, and by the time I was well enough to come back, I hadn’t heard anything from you and I thought you didn’t want me anymore. So… I made Florian train me, so that I’d have the knowledge and tools I’d need to track down Darian and get my revenge. But I swear, if I would’ve known… I would’ve come home. You have to believe me on this Brennan. Please…”
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Post by Abigail Faraday-Brennan on Jul 13, 2011 16:37:14 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background-image:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/x1k6fl.png), width: 400px; height: 400px;] What's the point of being alive, If all I want is out? What do you do when you've got nothing left? I'm holding my breath
Won't lose you again
Something's made your eyes go cold
Come on, come on, don't leave me like this
I thought I had you figured out
Something's gone terribly wrong
You're all I wanted Taking a deep breath, Brennan tried to pull herself together enough to focus on Sastre’s words. She wasn’t leaving. Or at least not yet, she had said. Which meant that the hunter was still planning on leaving at some point, but she had a little more time. Pushing that thought aside with difficulty in favor of the more immediate issue, Brennan closed her eyes and forced herself to listen to the hunter’s explanation, wiping at her tear streaked face. She’d finally managed to stop crying, realizing that her former lover hadn’t actually intended to hurt or betray her, but her chest was still painfully tight, and her breathing remained shaky and labored. But her head was clearing as the shock slowly subsided, and Brennan considered the hunter’s words, watching her carefully. When Sastre had first arrived, Brennan had been completely taken aback by the hunter’s transformation, longing to see the welcoming warmth of the woman she loved. But there had been only cool detachment, no flicker of caring or concern as the witch had fallen apart in front of her. To be so unmoved when her pain was so raw and obvious… Brennan had thought she must be gone, destroyed in favor of this hard, efficient hunter. Lily must have been taken apart and remade completely in order for the new Sastre Quicksilver to come about. As good as dead, and twice as difficult to get back again. But now Brennan saw the truth. She was still incredibly different and difficult to read, but Brennan was realizing more and more that Sastre wasn’t Lily, reprogrammed and created anew. She was a mask, a wall for her to hide behind, take strength from. And as she spoke of her torture and captivity, of thinking Brennan didn’t love her, had never loved her, the witch saw that wall begin to crack, and for a few moments, the woman she loved peeked through. She had been as much a victim of whatever foul play was at work as Brennan had, it seemed. She was beaten, nearly broken, and buried deep, but she was there nonetheless, and as Brennan realized this, she began to feel the first stirrings of hope. It was a faint, fragile thing, but even so, her despair lifted slightly, and the weight in her chest eased enough to let her draw a clean breath for the first time in such a long, long time. Brennan’s expression softened, and she shifted to lean into her companion, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. I believe you,” she promised, taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. If I’d have known…”Brennan’s expression crumbled a moment, unable to imagine what it must have been like, hurt and alone for the last year, assuming the one she’d loved most didn’t want her anymore. Sighing, she let her arm slip from the hunter’s shoulders to rub her back soothingly, giving her what comfort she could without stumbling awkwardly over words. “I wish I could’ve been there for you,” she finally murmured. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this alone.”Not knowing what else to say, Brennan simply held her in silence. |
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