finalflight | psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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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.

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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.

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[Her heart is pulsating. Lips pursed, she nods.

Maybe... Just maybe she could... ]

Yeah. How about you go do that right now? Set up an appointment for a checkup at least.

[She doesn't want James to see what she's about to do next. ]

I'll stay here and keep him company.

Edited 2016-12-04 20:53 (UTC)

Ah... right. [He nods, then stands to his feet, eyes still on Simon. He digs in his pocket for his mobile, unlocking it and scrolling to find their vet's number.]

I'll be back in a moment.

[Already dialing the number and letting it ring, he walks down the hall, phone pressed against his ear, disappearing around the corner.]

[]When he's out of sight, that's when Devon gets to work. Her heart is beating faster. It's always been a signal of sorts, one that pushed her to fix the hurt, to pour her energy into a needing source, to make a reversal. She cups Simon's face in her hands, staring hard into her eyes and whispering. ]

Hey. It hurts doesn't it?

[Simon gazes at her silently, his cataract glistening slightly. Her thumb brushes his cheeks and then leans her forehead on his.]

You don't have long. I can feel it and you do too. But... Do me a favor. Hold on a bit longer. For him? For James? I can't make him happy yet. You do and... I'd miss you too.

[The greyhound starts to feel a vibration in its limbs. Devon's touch is like a cleansing wave and the years feel like they're shedding.]

So please... Stay a little longer. Live.

[Outside, James will hear a loud and excited bark. Loud happy dog panting and claws clipping on on the floor it's a liveliness unlike any other.]

[James is leaving a message on their veterinarian's voicemail; they're often busy, and though they're usually quick to get back, he's already considering calling a different place, eager to get Simon looked at as soon as possible. He's mid-sentence when his words are interrupted with a familiar bark, and he looks back down the hall from where he came. It's accompanied by happy panting and the sound of quick, excited movement.

He hangs up his phone and walks back to where Devon was, the device still clutched tightly in his fingers. What he sees confuses him, but also sends a surge of relief through his chest.

Simon is trotting along happily around Devon, occasionally sitting and pawing at her for attention. He barks at her, wanting to play.]

Simon? [James is trying to understand what's happening here, but he can't. His dog looks better than ever, even more energized than he had been in years. He definitely didn't look sick. And when Simon sees his owner, he runs up to him, rearing up on his hind legs and resting his front paws on his abdomen, tail wagging.]

Woah, hey- [He grins, scratching at his head.] Feeling better already? Just trying to give everyone a scare?

[He chuckles, but it fades when he looks over at Devon questioningly. Maybe she knew what was going on?]

What happened? Did you do something?

[Devon is standing and leaning against the doorway, one hand over her chest, the other on her side. Her heartbeat has slowed down. She's a bit lightheaded, but better than expected. She smiles at Simon and then looks at James. ]

... He got better.

[Simon sits, wagging his tail, looking up at James. James, on the other hand, is trying to figure out how this all pieces together, with little success.]

Yes, I can see that much. [He can't help the faint edge of sarcasm in his tone, finding it difficult to not rely on it when he doesn't understand what's happening.] But it was so... sudden. Almost as if he was just faking it before.

[Which is, of course, preposterous. Dogs don't fake being sick. Simon had actually looked very ill. But now, his dog is anything but -- so much that he hears someone walking around downstairs (probably one of the staff), and decides to dart away, probably heading down the stairs. James just watches him go in faint disbelief, then moves towards Devon.

She seems a bit off, as if she had just exerted herself in some way. James quietly reaches out to feel her state of mind, and is hit with a sense of lightheadedness.]

...Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm...

[Devon gestures with one hand, trying to be casual and not at all strange even if they're both aware that she is not being normal whatsoever. When was the last time she exerted that much energy into healing? She usually only put effort into Ian's scrapes and bruises, into the animals he brought home that were injured in minor ways. It had been a while since she... Prolonged something's life. That was uncharted territory.

But it worked. Rubbing her forehead tiredly, she decides to try and find her words and see if she can explain herself to James. It's not like she can really hide this for a prolonged period of time.]

I don't... I'm not sure how I do it. But I made Simon better.

[She made him better? James frowns, but not out of disapproval, not really. Out of uncertainty, out of a lingering sense of concern, out of simply not knowing what he's gotten himself into with this woman -- though it was certainly no fault of her own.]

You can just... make things better?

[Or was she the one getting sick? Making her say and believe such things? He brings the back of his hand up to her forehead, feeling her temperature. It seems fine.]

That isn't normal, you know. For a young woman to do.

[It's a strained attempt at a joke, probably failing terribly. But he doesn't know how else to react. People don't just... fix things in that way. Not unless they're unusual, like him. But there's no one quite like him.]

[Ah... The hand on her forehead makes her blink and she automatically moves so that she can gently push it away and she laughs tiredly at his remark.]

I still sleepwalk at 27. I think we passed "normal" a little while ago.

[His hand brushed aside, he drops it to his side, frowning.]

Do you think the two are related?

[He remembers her text, about her telling him that she felt her grandfather was keeping secrets from her. This entire thing reeks of secrets.]

It's possible. I mean, whether I sleepwalk or actually do that weird psychic healing isn't wholly dependent on each other, but they did happen to crop up around the same time.

[She puts her arms around herself, looking vulnerable, uncertain, tired.]

Only my grandfather and Ian know. I never did that in front of my parents.

[James doesn't say anything at first, slipping his phone back into his pocket. This is difficult to parse, and he's not the best at saying comforting things just for the sake of it.]

It's wise of you to tell me. I imagine I would have found out sooner rather than later. [He looks her over, and something about Devon just looks so... vulnerable. It makes his empathy spike -- that natural tendency of his to want for others to feel better around him, even if life has stamped out the amiability in him.]

I... won't tell anyone. I'm assuming you don't want me to. And... thank you. For helping Simon. [He swallows, looking over to where Simon had disappeared off to.] Despite it making you uncomfortable, you did it anyway.

[Devon just nods wordlessly. True, it was bound to come up, sooner or later. And since Grandpa knew, maybe he sent her far away, to someone like James Aubel who has the resources and environment to shield her, if only temporarily and...

Simon's joyful bark in the distance interrupts her train of thought. The noise lightens up the atmosphere even more so compared to before.]

... You're welcome.

I figured that... Well, he's good company. And... I thought I could do something. For you.

[It's almost shy, the way she says that last part.]

You go and settle down. You just got back from work after all and I need to clean my studio up.

[Something for him? Ah, don't say such things, Devon. You're going to make him grow fond of you if you keep this up.

He grins, trying to make it look smug, but he can't help but lace it with sincerity as well. He reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it a little.]

You, doing something for me? It should be the other way around, don't you think?

[He drops his arm, then gives a small shrug.]

I'll be here if you need me. Don't push yourself too hard, Devon.

[And with that, he'll turn away to make his way downstairs for now.]

[She jumps a bit in reaction to his touch on her shoulder and his smile a far cry from how straight forward she is through written word. Devon can only nod and wave him off as he makes his way downstairs.]

See ya.

[With Simon's crisis averted, Devon returns to her studio to pick up some papers and start planning some new projects. Outside of her window, there is a crow perched on a ledge, watching, waiting, and then it flies away, with no one aware that it was there to begin with.]

❋ ❋ ❋

[With the combined effort put into Simon's recovery and her cleaning her studio and starting her largest painting, Devon's tired herself out more than she expected. When night falls and dinner with the Aubel's is done, she walks upstairs, retiring to her room expecting a pleasant dreamless sleep.

But the door remains unlocked.

She had forgotten to remind the staff to double check her door for her. They were all vaguely aware of her condition, but she had been doing fine locking it for herself that they felt she wasn't going to bother them too much about it if she was taking care of it. But tonight, that would prove unwise.

It's about 11:30 PM, close to midnight, but not quite. The lights around the estate are dimmed down and most of the staff are resting or working in further distant spots, away from the living residents. On the second floor, Devon, without making a sound, slowly sits up. She's dressed in sleeping shorts and a long sleeved shirt, her hair tied in a braid. Her eyes are half lidded and dazed as she makes her way over to the door, turning the knob and glides across the hallway as if being pulled.

Simon notices first of course. Devon walks down the stairs, one hand on the railing and then goes towards the exit that leads to the gardens. The greyhound follows her for a minute or two, thinking she was awake to play. But then she walks outside, further and further away from Simon, past the roses...

The canine barks and dashes upstairs. There's whimpering and whining outside of James's door and another harsh bark.

Wake up.

WAKE UP.]

[James Aubel jolts awake, eyes wide and a hand clutching at his pillow. He pushes himself up in a daze, having fallen asleep on his stomach, casting his eyes around his darkened room. He thought he had felt a sharp urgency in the air, a noise, loud and acute-]

Simon...? [He murmurs, when the greyhound scratches at his door and barks again. He pulls himself out of his bed and opens the door, frowning. The floor feels cold on his bare feet; otherwise, he's dressed in his night clothes, a loose fitting black sleep shirt with long sleeves, and drawstring pajama pants to match.

Simon immediately turns around and heads down the hall, obviously wanting James to follow.] What's gotten into you? [James blinks the sleep from his eyes, but he's starting to get a bad feeling about this. His pace quickens as he moves down the hall, down the stairs, and straight out the door. He hesitates, not wanting to traipse around outside in his night clothes, and with bare feet at that.

That is, until Simon barks in the direction of Devon, a small figure in the distance by now, lit only by moonlight, heading past the roses and towards the convoluted maze further back.]

Oh, hell... [James is certainly awake, now. He runs across the expansive green lawn, his lungs already yelling at him for exerting himself in such a way. He ignores it, for now.] Devon! Devon! [He curses to himself. She's already so far away.]

[She doesn't feel the sensation of the misty evening grass tickling her feet. The night air doesn't deter Devon in this state either. She keeps going and going as long as there's no obvious obstacle in her way and if there is, there's something akin to an invisible helping hand that maneuvers her away from danger.

And soon she's at the entrance of the maze. There's a pause as if she's heard something, someone, external, but... Regardless, she moves forward and makes her first turn at the right.

(On top the hedges there are five, no six crows, they're all watching her with beady eyes, they look up to see the human man and the canine beast. Even out here in this faraway land, across the ocean, there is always someone, something that disrupts them, that disrupts their voice calling for her. They need to lose them in the future.)]

Edited 2016-12-05 00:35 (UTC)

[James hurries towards the maze, clenching his teeth when she sees her disappear into it. Logically, he knows that there's nothing in there that can harm her (he knows that maze like the back of his hand), but there's a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. An anxeity born from what that maze represents, what lies within it, what used to reside there and... something else. Something more present, but he couldn't specify, exactly, what.

Simon trots close next to him, whining a little. When they reach the maze, the canine stops in hesitation. His owner disappears into the hedges without him, and Simon lifts his head upwards to bark at the crows his human master didn't notice.

James, on the other hand, presses forward -- before he realizes that there's barely any light in the maze at night, only the dull rays of moonlight filtering through the hedges to guide him. He mentally chides himself for being so thoughtless, to run out here without a torch, but there's nothing he can do about it now. He calls out:]

Devon? Where are you?!

[Maybe she'd hear him and wake up. James reaches out a hand to feel at the hedges, letting his memory and the sensation of the leaves guide him. He turns right, walking hurriedly while trying to peer in the darkness ahead. Reaching out with his mind, he wonders if he can locate her more easily, but for some reason he's met with nothing more than an eerie... blankness.]

[Another twist, another turn. Her path seems directionless this time. But there's nothing she can do against this pull, against the silent voices that burrow themselves into her dream filled mind and...

It's a stroke of luck, extremely dumb even. She moves too closely to the surface of the hedges and while it is meticulously maintained, there is a stray branch, that scratches and drags across her cheek, startling her awake.]

OW!

[She yells loud enough for James to be able to hear and locate her. Devon blinks, once, three times, rapidly, and the outside cold wrapped around her bare legs, the tiny streak of blood running down her streak, the darkness and the unfamiliar scenery in front of her hits her too fast.]

Oh god... Ohgodohgodohgod.

[As typical with sleepwalking (as if this was anything, but typical) Devon does not recall anything. She just remembers laying in her warm bed at first and then suddenly she's outside. The feeling of displacement is strong and she hugs herself, collapsing to the ground breathing heavily. When will this stop? When will it go away? What keeps doing this to her?]

[James hears Devon's exclamation, and suddenly he's aware of her presence again. She's woken up.

However, he holds relief at bay until he can locate her. Her voice came from northwest of here, and he winds through the maze, hand still out to guide him in the dark. Finally, he turns, and in the faint moonlight he can see her figure collapsed on the ground. She looks small and scared.

James rushes towards her, sucking in deep breaths for his own benefit, and falls to his knees next to her, trying to peer at her face. He puts an arm around her shoulders, concern in his voice.]

Devon, it's me. Are you hurt?

[Is that... blood on her face? Did she cut herself on the hedges?]

[There's no protest against his arm around her shoulder and she leans her forehead against him without meaning to.]

Where... Where am I?

[It's so dark and Devon's still trying to sort out her panicked thoughts. All she can really see are James and the tall leafy walls around them.]

... The maze?

[He nods. The feeling of her forehead pressed against him is nominal compared to the relief he's allowing himself to feel, now. What are the chances that she'd find her way in here of all places?]

Yes, the maze. You wandered all the way out here, and you're lucky Simon woke me up to find you before you got lost.

[Because waking up in the middle of the night, lost in the hedge maze? Probably not fun for anyone.]

Can you stand and walk? I'll lead us out of here.

Y-Yeah... [She hoists herself up, putting one hand on James to do so. She's trembling.]

I didn't lock my door, I...

It's fine, don't worry about that right now. [He interrupts her, not wanting her to dwell on other anxieties. He grasps her hand with his own, fingers wrapping around her tightly. Her touch feels cold. He frowns.]

Let's just get out of here, shall we? Stay close, it's difficult to see.

[And he turns around to lead her out, slowly retracing his steps, his free hand out to guide him against the hedge walls. He makes a weak attempt at a joke to lighten the mood.]

Trying to keep me on my toes, aren't you?

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winterheart - 2016-12-05 01:26 (UTC) - Expand

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hedgemaze - 2016-12-05 01:29 (UTC) - Expand

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psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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> Ɲιgнт ƜαƖкιηg

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