ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ᴀᴜʙᴇʟ ǝɹnʇɐǝⅎ ǝɹnʇɐǝɹɔ ǝɥʇ (
hedgemaze) wrote in
finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.
In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.
PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.
AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.
Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.
D I R E C T O R Y;
➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.

no subject
So that's where it's coming from? Flowers down here??
[And now that they're so close, there's this vibration of life instead of stillness associated with plants, the feeling that they're surrounded by something breathing and sentient. Ian moves closer to James, even putting one hand on the older man's sleeve.]
I wish they sold kids blow torches for stuff like this.
no subject
Because all around himself, he can sense more than just the steady feeling of life that all plants emanate, their very essences. There's something more; it's a sentience. And for some reason, it's almost as if they've stepped right into its maw.
He's glad Ian is keeping close. He points his phone's light at one of the flowers.]
I think I agree with you, Ian.
[He sets his jaw, swallowing.] So, I have a theory. I'm sure it makes me sound mental, but I'll share it with you anyway. There's something decidedly unearthly about this flora, and I mean that quite... literally.
no subject
The boy gulps and shines his light around, trying not to take in the scent of the flowers. And then he sees...]
VP!!
[The three legged dog is laying inside the biggest blossom that has bloomed in the basement, big enough to be the size of a dog bed even, as if he was going to be enveloped by the petals at any moment. The canine's sleeping face is calm, if sedated. Above him, there's a bigger flower that hangs above on the ceiling like some kind of lamp. Ian wants to run over, but he looks up at James first to let him make the call instead of just being reckless.]
no subject
Hold on a moment. Let's be careful; I hate to say it, but I don't trust any of these flowers to not snap us up at a moment's notice.
[But he's not against the both of them walking closer to get a better look, slowly, and he does just that.] He doesn't look hurt. Just sleeping... sedated, almost. [He cranes his neck up, to see the flower on the ceiling not that far away from where they're standing.
He's not sure what to do, but since James senses sentience, he attempts to reach out with his mind once more. He wonders if it'll provoke some sort of reaction.]
(Can you hear me? That's our dog. Release him.)
[Bloody thing probably doesn't even understand me, he thinks to himself.]
no subject
[A distorted and mangled voice replies to James. The petals of the gigantic blossom rustles and Ian shudders even though he doesn't hear James or the plant talking. He just feels that it's alive, that it's dangerous, that they're dealing with something that might be out of their league.
Despite not hearing anything, Ian's got enough common sense to figure out the possibilities of why VP was attracted to the smell, why his dog now lies there, barely moving. He whispers to James.]
Is... Is it gonna eat him?
no subject
I think it plans on it. But we're not going to let that happen, are we?
[And, naturally, to the plant:] (Then let a rat crawl into your flowery maw, but not this dog. Whatever it is you are.)
no subject
[The alien flower is practically shrieking at James while its leaves and blossoms quiver angrily all around them, giving off more of that hideous odor. Ian coughs and then kneels down to take off his backpack, unzipping it and then rustling around, trying to do some quick thinking. The only thing he has are sharp pencil and pens (what is he gonna do, stab the flower? Bad idea), his papers, empty lunchbox and...
... An extra large cookie he bought for himself from the cafe, studded with poppy seeds, fragrant with the scent of lemon. He rips off the plastic wrap.]
Do you think we can feed it this?
no subject
He glances over at Ian, and despite himself, scoffs at the cookie.] Why the hell not? Throw it in a flower, maybe it'll distract the blasted thing.
[Meanwhile, James figures he'll do his own sort of distraction. He focuses, flooding the plant with emotion -- negative, just as he had done before with the giant crow creature. He's careful not to let it leak towards Ian, and James rushes forward to attempt to scoop up VP before things become too insane.]
no subject
We're done here, let's move!
[Soccer training, GO. Ian's a swift runner and he's out the door in a jiffy.]
no subject
Bloody hell...
[But you know what? Ian's got a great idea, and James turns and follows him, VP in tow. He runs as fast as he can, trying to remain cognizant of any vines that might trip him up in the dark.]
The faster we're out of here, the better!
no subject
Well, I'm never walking near here again!
no subject
[James is only a few running steps behind the boy, and it's not until he's out of the yard, past the fence, and on the sidewalk does he stop, still holding VP. God, his lungs.]
...ugh. [Give him a sec.] Well... we did it. Bully for us.
no subject
[Ian looks towards the house, looking somewhat sad. But he shakes his head.]
... We're never talking about this again are we?
[VP is beginning to stir, barely. It seems it was the scent of the flower that may have sedated him heavily, so his tongue sticks out slightly as his eyes bat in and out of consciousness.]
no subject
And no, we're not mentioning this again.
[Damn plant. He coughs a little, that odor still in his lungs. But in doing so, he notices VP stirring.]
I think VP's awake. You all right, boy?
no subject
[That's as good as an agreement. Ian perks up when VP starts to wake. He reaches over with both hands, to rub the dog's face as it makes a low whimpering noise.]
... Dumb dog.
[Ian mutters this, but he rubs his forehead against VP's, trying not to tear up from happiness and relief.]
You already lost a leg. Can't lose the rest of you.
no subject
Especially not to something as dreadfully embarrassing as a plant.
[says the man who ran out of the house without looking backThe look on Ian's face makes James feel happy, glad to be able to assist bringing back something that was so precious to him. He revels in the boy's relief, a bit self-indulgently, but hey, he's earned it.
(It reminds him of a time long ago, a lifetime ago, when he helped another young boy of nine years feel glad again, feel something close to happiness, back when he lived in a garden, buried under cool soil.)]
...We should get him back home. I'm sure everyone else will miss him if we don't.
no subject
Uh huh. Can't let Devon know that we've been getting into trouble.
no subject
[He's ready to carry to VP all the way back to let him rest, and gives Ian a grin.]
Let's be off, then.
[And he'll walk right next to Ian the entire way back home.]