[ The constant retyping of Treavor's name might just be how he comes to be included in the text. ]
asked me to stay and i
i think? he asked me to stay ?
I was crying i couldn't stop crying
daud no one talks to me here its like i'm a ghost and he needed help and he was talking to me so i thought maybe i should try to give him alcohol poisoning but i couldnt do that
i'm not like that, i felt so badly so i helped him to bed and took one shoe off and he almost kicked me in the face and then asked me to stay and i just wanted
[ He tries not to linger long with the impact of this message. Can't let himself fall into any reaction to it, because what he feels would be too much and too volatile, would damage what hold he has on the situation.
She tried to poison him. He can't blame the girl, but the act is... It doesn't sound like her. None of this sounds precisely like her. ]
You need to get out of that house.
Let me walk with you. I can be there in ten minutes.
[ She looks a mess when she comes out the front door, but passable enough for a walk outside. More worrying than her state of disarray should be just how drunkenly distraught she is, and the fact that she's not entirely sure why she's so upset that Treavor knows.
So he knows. So what? Maybe he'll be wary of her from now on.
But she doesn't want that, does she? She doesn't want to kill him any longer, and that's confusing.
But there's Daud, that's someone solidly dependable, someone who cares for her and isn't angry with her for any of this. He can't make it all go away, but she can freely fling herself at him and cling to him regardless of how uncomfortable it might make him. Maybe sob on him for a minute or two before giving him a reprieve. ]
[ He's... He can't move. Wouldn't dare to shake her and so only places an awkward arm around Katrina's shaking form, half-hoping no one stops to ask what's wrong (unlikely, in a place like this), half-hoping her snake of a supposed-to-be-husband doesn't come to the door (he wouldn't; he wouldn't dare). Mostly, he notices how unwell she is. The toll this affair has already taken on her, and not for the first time he curses Baltus. What in the Void had the man been thinking? What desperation had led him to place her in this position?
It's wrong, all of it. Knowing who that man is, what his family is... Daud catches himself before he can clench a fist, urges himself to relax. It'll do the woman no good to reveal so much of his tension. The best he can do for her is keep a cool head. Find a way through this, and get her out if he can.
Once she's cried herself out some, he clears his throat, not yet pulling away or releasing her. ]
Katrina. It's all right.
Let's take that walk.
[ He won't urge her to talk just yet. Not until she's had some time to take in the air, maybe calm herself a little. He'll offer his arm, offer to support her however she needs it. What matters right now is getting her away from the house. ]
[ She calms down enough to lean on him, her hands wrapped about his arm as though he's a lifeline. Perhaps he is, in a way: someone in this horrible city who isn't out to cause her harm. Hardly mindful of where they're going, she lets him lead her away from her cage of a house. Not a prison, exactly, because she can leave at any time - but if she thinks of not returning, there's always that reminder about her father, about the shame she'll endure, and what really does he mean by that? Why does he keep trying to stop her from leaving?
Can't think straight. Maybe she's just looking for something that isn't there out of wretched desperation. ]
I want to go home.
[ Not to the house here, but home, back to her farm where at least someone will talk to her no matter how disgraced she might be. ]
He's so bitter. I don't understand. Men don't hate me. Why does he hate me?
[ Maybe a little of the drunkenness was madness from being cooped up in that house too long, alone except for her supposed-to-be-husband; she can already feel a little of it slipping away. ]
[ It's painful, almost, to see her. To feel the way she clings to him as he leads her away from this sad excuse for a home, leads her anywhere but there. Just get her walking. Eventually get her some water, perhaps. Get her into the warmth of the sun, now creeping out from behind the clouds, now reaching tentative rays to touch the earth. ]
He's no man.
None of his family are. They're serpents, more like. Full of venom and thrashed spite.
[ Never mind about how well and closely he knows that fact. Never mind about fifteen years ago, Melville Pendleton's role in the coup that shook Dunwall. Never mind what Daud had done, or where the money had come from. Not of that matters right now, though its knowledge runs tension down his spine. ]
[ It doesn't seem right, that the sun is coming out. It's almost surreal in a way: sunlight shouldn't exist here in Manhattan, so far away from the fields and forests of Sleepy Hollow. Still, she turns her face up to it, feeling just a little...less. Or more, perhaps. More human, less like a ghost. ]
For a moment, I thought - maybe he might like me. We can survive this. This morning, I thought maybe he -
[ She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. It's difficult for her to understand that a man might not like her. Men always like her. Even if they don't, at least they want her (or her money), and she can work with that.
She laughs then. ]
Papa should have wedded me to you. Then you could pretend I am your wife, but only so -
[ Ludo. That. ]
Mm. Instead, I get a drunkard who can't bear me. And a very good name, and high society, and pretty shoes, Daud. I have very pretty shoes. But all I wanted was -
Why didn't I get the - the fairy tale? I should get that, shouldn't I?
[ It can't be hard to see how young and naive she really is, behind all the flirtation and maneuvering of others. She really expected happily ever after. ]
[ She's so young. Young and full of fanciful ideas, in love with stories that have no place in the waking world. Someone should have ushered her into a harsher reality long ago, step by slow step; better that than to force her so suddenly into this extremity. Void knows that's a fast track to ruin. A fast track, at least, to destroying the vivacious young woman she's been.
He ignores the pull in his chest the best he can. Tries not to dwell too long on the image of Katrina hanging on by a gossamer thread, balanced over a roil of back-biting poison, endless putrid arguments and thorns.
'Maybe he might like me.' Oh, Katrina. Katrina. But wasn't it inevitable that she'd come to such a thought? Given the way she yearns for her happy endings. Given the ways she seems to dwell so long on romance.
At the vague reference to Ludo, Daud glances away, throat catching just slightly. He'd left without bidding the man goodbye, though he'd wanted to, had been half-tempted (more than half-tempted) to risk jarring Ludo out of sleep just to say he'd be back soon. Which was ridiculous, really; no one needed to know that he was going. Even Ludo wouldn't care to be told so much.
Katrina's right, though; tying the girl to Daud would have been preferable to this, sticking her in the viper's cage, severing her from everyone she'd known and leaving her with nothing. Prior to hearing of Katrina's sudden marriage, Daud wouldn't have suspected Baltus of being capable of more than a grain of cruelty. Now... Impossible to believe the man hadn't seen some depth of what he was setting his daughter up for. Impossible to believe he thought it would be bearable, unles he'd allowed himself to be deluded. ]
I can't say I know much about fairy tales. But you deserve better than this.
[ Deserves warmer than this, something built less on precarious agreements and bitter arguments. ]
I'll speak with your father.
[ He would have spoken with her father already, but Baltus has proven evasive, or someone else is maneuvering the man, keeping him out of Daud's reach. Which would hardly be surprising, treacherous as the Pendletons are. Melville knows damned well what he's done; Daud doesn't doubt that for a moment. He has half a mind to pay the old man a visit, only that wouldn't accomplish enough. Kill Melville, and he'd need to take out the twins, need to take down the man currently calling himself Katrina's husband.
No, if she won't leave this place, the fastest way to free her is to kill Treavor Pendleton.
It isn't ideal, but... Well. He's done worse, for far more regrettable causes. ]
He reads the message twice over before recognizing what it is the girl's talking about. It'd been clear immediately that this message wasn't intended for him (look who's mis-sending this time!), but he'd been distracted by certain details - 'asked me to stay,' ghosts, daud (he's heard that name; doesn't care for the association it carries) - and doesn't put the bigger picture together until he reads it again.
'He asked me to stay.'
'Maybe I should try to give him alcohol poisoning.'
It explains what she'd been doing beside him in the first place, the puzzle he'd been unable to work out this morning.
Panicked enough that she throws the device away from her as though that can make what just happened unhappen, stares at it across the room with horror and tears on her face.
Oh god oh god oh god.
It takes her time to retrieve it, to try and get her thoughts in order to respond. Eloquently, perhaps? ]
[ He doesn't know how to feel. Angry or amused or terrified, yes, there's a part of him that's more than a little bit afraid because if she's made an effort at killing him off already, what'll she do after years of living in this city? Not that his life is worth much, but for god's sake, he'd rather keep hold of it than otherwise. Has never been one to forsake his own skin.
She's drunk. That doesn't change the truth in her words.
It doesn't matter that she hates him. Oh, that he already knew. Would expect nothing less. What matters is what she'd begun to do. What she'd thought to do, innocuous-looking lamb that she is. He's underestimated her; he can't do that again. She'd truly thought to kill him.
(And she knows that man. The name he'd heard whispered by his father in dealings better left unspoken. The name he hasn't heard in years.)
Getting him into bed had been guilt, then. Her change of heart put to good use, and where the hell had Wallace been that she'd been able to steer Treavor one way or any other? What a wife. What a remarkably city-savvy wife, already poised to murder her husband, walk away with what wealth he has and the remnants of his name.
Silly girl, trying to think she could poison him any faster than he's poisoning himself. ]
Please, tell me more about what a shit I am.
So you tried to kill me, then thought you'd crawl into my bed. Warm your guilt away.
i did not try to kill you , i thought about it but then i didn't want to be that person , i want to be a good p
wo
wife
i'm supposed to be
you are supposed to love me and you don't you don't even like me
but you invited me to stay with you and i just wanted to see
[ What it might be like to be a proper, loved, happy wife.
Perhaps she is entirely too drunk to be trying to defend herself, because at this point, she's just repeating everything. And - yes, it was warm in his bed, it was nice and the opposite of bad (which is not 'good' quite yet, but not bad) - but no, the guilt remained. Hence the drinking, on both counts. ]
Didn't you. A thought's just about as bad as an action, wouldn't you agree? When you're talking about something like MY LIFE.
[ Are his hands shaking? They might be. Is he taking a long, long drink from his flask? He absolutely is. ]
I find it unlikely that I invited you anywhere. Others might fall prey to your rustic charms, but I know you're more than you seem.
Don't I?
I never told you to anticipate my fondness. Just as I never expected yours. Still, I don't think it's too much to ask that you not make further attempts on my life.
[ That's all she gets. He doesn't want to deal with this. Doesn't want to think about what it would mean for her to either leave or return. Doesn't want to deal with any of this.
What he needs is a bottle of wine. Which, thank Christ, is handily available nearby. ]
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sockslayer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2018-12-07 05:12 pm
no subject
hurt me
treacle
treaver
TREAVOR
[ The constant retyping of Treavor's name might just be how he comes to be included in the text. ]
asked me to stay and i
i think? he asked me to stay ?
I was crying i couldn't stop crying
daud no one talks to me here its like i'm a ghost and he needed help and he was talking to me so i thought maybe i should try to give him alcohol poisoning but i couldnt do that
i'm not like that, i felt so badly so i helped him to bed and took one shoe off and he almost kicked me in the face and then asked me to stay and i just wanted
something
from someone
well wow i'm dead now
She tried to poison him. He can't blame the girl, but the act is... It doesn't sound like her. None of this sounds precisely like her. ]
You need to get out of that house.
Let me walk with you. I can be there in ten minutes.
Please.
no subject
it stinks of piss and horses and sweat and the food tastes strange
everyone gossips all the time, they're all relentlessly cruel
why is everyone so cruel here
i loathe it and i want to go home
no subject
Come with me, Katrina. The fresh air'll help a little. And you sound like you need company.
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he saw my msgs come get me right now
right now
no subject
I'm out the door. Be ready for me.
Stay calm, Katrina. Wait outside if you're able.
[ Less than ten minutes later, she'll receive another text. ]
I'm here.
no subject
So he knows. So what? Maybe he'll be wary of her from now on.
But she doesn't want that, does she? She doesn't want to kill him any longer, and that's confusing.
But there's Daud, that's someone solidly dependable, someone who cares for her and isn't angry with her for any of this. He can't make it all go away, but she can freely fling herself at him and cling to him regardless of how uncomfortable it might make him. Maybe sob on him for a minute or two before giving him a reprieve. ]
no subject
It's wrong, all of it. Knowing who that man is, what his family is... Daud catches himself before he can clench a fist, urges himself to relax. It'll do the woman no good to reveal so much of his tension. The best he can do for her is keep a cool head. Find a way through this, and get her out if he can.
Once she's cried herself out some, he clears his throat, not yet pulling away or releasing her. ]
Katrina. It's all right.
Let's take that walk.
[ He won't urge her to talk just yet. Not until she's had some time to take in the air, maybe calm herself a little. He'll offer his arm, offer to support her however she needs it. What matters right now is getting her away from the house. ]
no subject
Can't think straight. Maybe she's just looking for something that isn't there out of wretched desperation. ]
I want to go home.
[ Not to the house here, but home, back to her farm where at least someone will talk to her no matter how disgraced she might be. ]
He's so bitter. I don't understand. Men don't hate me. Why does he hate me?
[ Maybe a little of the drunkenness was madness from being cooped up in that house too long, alone except for her supposed-to-be-husband; she can already feel a little of it slipping away. ]
no subject
He's no man.
None of his family are. They're serpents, more like. Full of venom and thrashed spite.
[ Never mind about how well and closely he knows that fact. Never mind about fifteen years ago, Melville Pendleton's role in the coup that shook Dunwall. Never mind what Daud had done, or where the money had come from. Not of that matters right now, though its knowledge runs tension down his spine. ]
It isn't any fault of yours.
no subject
For a moment, I thought - maybe he might like me. We can survive this. This morning, I thought maybe he -
[ She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. It's difficult for her to understand that a man might not like her. Men always like her. Even if they don't, at least they want her (or her money), and she can work with that.
She laughs then. ]
Papa should have wedded me to you. Then you could pretend I am your wife, but only so -
[ Ludo. That. ]
Mm. Instead, I get a drunkard who can't bear me. And a very good name, and high society, and pretty shoes, Daud. I have very pretty shoes. But all I wanted was -
Why didn't I get the - the fairy tale? I should get that, shouldn't I?
[ It can't be hard to see how young and naive she really is, behind all the flirtation and maneuvering of others. She really expected happily ever after. ]
no subject
He ignores the pull in his chest the best he can. Tries not to dwell too long on the image of Katrina hanging on by a gossamer thread, balanced over a roil of back-biting poison, endless putrid arguments and thorns.
'Maybe he might like me.' Oh, Katrina. Katrina. But wasn't it inevitable that she'd come to such a thought? Given the way she yearns for her happy endings. Given the ways she seems to dwell so long on romance.
At the vague reference to Ludo, Daud glances away, throat catching just slightly. He'd left without bidding the man goodbye, though he'd wanted to, had been half-tempted (more than half-tempted) to risk jarring Ludo out of sleep just to say he'd be back soon. Which was ridiculous, really; no one needed to know that he was going. Even Ludo wouldn't care to be told so much.
Katrina's right, though; tying the girl to Daud would have been preferable to this, sticking her in the viper's cage, severing her from everyone she'd known and leaving her with nothing. Prior to hearing of Katrina's sudden marriage, Daud wouldn't have suspected Baltus of being capable of more than a grain of cruelty. Now... Impossible to believe the man hadn't seen some depth of what he was setting his daughter up for. Impossible to believe he thought it would be bearable, unles he'd allowed himself to be deluded. ]
I can't say I know much about fairy tales. But you deserve better than this.
[ Deserves warmer than this, something built less on precarious agreements and bitter arguments. ]
I'll speak with your father.
[ He would have spoken with her father already, but Baltus has proven evasive, or someone else is maneuvering the man, keeping him out of Daud's reach. Which would hardly be surprising, treacherous as the Pendletons are. Melville knows damned well what he's done; Daud doesn't doubt that for a moment. He has half a mind to pay the old man a visit, only that wouldn't accomplish enough. Kill Melville, and he'd need to take out the twins, need to take down the man currently calling himself Katrina's husband.
No, if she won't leave this place, the fastest way to free her is to kill Treavor Pendleton.
It isn't ideal, but... Well. He's done worse, for far more regrettable causes. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He reads the message twice over before recognizing what it is the girl's talking about. It'd been clear immediately that this message wasn't intended for him (look who's mis-sending this time!), but he'd been distracted by certain details - 'asked me to stay,' ghosts, daud (he's heard that name; doesn't care for the association it carries) - and doesn't put the bigger picture together until he reads it again.
'He asked me to stay.'
'Maybe I should try to give him alcohol poisoning.'
It explains what she'd been doing beside him in the first place, the puzzle he'd been unable to work out this morning.
He's too sober for this. ]
Is that what you were up to.
no subject
Panicked enough that she throws the device away from her as though that can make what just happened unhappen, stares at it across the room with horror and tears on her face.
Oh god oh god oh god.
It takes her time to retrieve it, to try and get her thoughts in order to respond. Eloquently, perhaps? ]
what
no subject
I suppose I should count myself lucky you lacked the backbone to go through with it.
1/2
No sense denying it, she thinks. ]
not the backbone
i dont want to be like
you
2/3 - i lied you get three
a little
why are you so unkind
i could be a good wife, i really could but youre so
you are such a shit treavor so of course i thought maybe you could just go away and i can go home and not be so alone
i hate you
3/3
i don't hate you
i just don't like you very much sometimes
sometimes i do ????
where is wallace i need walace
no subject
She's drunk. That doesn't change the truth in her words.
It doesn't matter that she hates him. Oh, that he already knew. Would expect nothing less. What matters is what she'd begun to do. What she'd thought to do, innocuous-looking lamb that she is. He's underestimated her; he can't do that again. She'd truly thought to kill him.
(And she knows that man. The name he'd heard whispered by his father in dealings better left unspoken. The name he hasn't heard in years.)
Getting him into bed had been guilt, then. Her change of heart put to good use, and where the hell had Wallace been that she'd been able to steer Treavor one way or any other? What a wife. What a remarkably city-savvy wife, already poised to murder her husband, walk away with what wealth he has and the remnants of his name.
Silly girl, trying to think she could poison him any faster than he's poisoning himself. ]
Please, tell me more about what a shit I am.
So you tried to kill me, then thought you'd crawl into my bed. Warm your guilt away.
no subject
yes
you invited me you said i could stay
i did not try to kill you , i thought about it but then i didn't want to be that person , i want to be a good p
wo
wife
i'm supposed to be
you are supposed to love me and you don't you don't even like me
but you invited me to stay with you and i just wanted to see
[ What it might be like to be a proper, loved, happy wife.
Perhaps she is entirely too drunk to be trying to defend herself, because at this point, she's just repeating everything. And - yes, it was warm in his bed, it was nice and the opposite of bad (which is not 'good' quite yet, but not bad) - but no, the guilt remained. Hence the drinking, on both counts. ]
no subject
[ Are his hands shaking? They might be. Is he taking a long, long drink from his flask? He absolutely is. ]
I find it unlikely that I invited you anywhere. Others might fall prey to your rustic charms, but I know you're more than you seem.
Don't I?
I never told you to anticipate my fondness. Just as I never expected yours. Still, I don't think it's too much to ask that you not make further attempts on my life.
no subject
[ ...Interesting. She really doesn't anymore. Something to analyze when she's sober, perhaps. ]
m goign out to
clear my head
unlikely is not impossib
i'm going out
no subject
Can't say I blame you. Though I imagine daddy won't be pleased when he finds out.
no subject
i'm coming back
do you
would
do you want me gone
no subject
[ That's all she gets. He doesn't want to deal with this. Doesn't want to think about what it would mean for her to either leave or return. Doesn't want to deal with any of this.
What he needs is a bottle of wine. Which, thank Christ, is handily available nearby. ]