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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 21, 2011 21:53:38 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]She was wrong, Silas didn’t want to talk to her. All he wanted to know was how Scores had done ‘while he was out’. Merlin, he made it sound like he was just on a prolonged trip to the shops. Nothing he couldn’t handle? In what world were scars like that something to just shrug off? Something had happened, and it had affected him more deeply than he was admitting.
If all he wanted to know what work-related, then she may as well get the visit over with and write up her notes of the last few weeks into a report for easy reading. There was too much to tell him now. She had assumed the responsibility for Scores when Silas was missing but now he was back, and knowing what he knew, Jac was terrified at the ease with which he could click his fingers and end her career right then.
Jac took a steadying breath and turned away, going to her bag. “I covered what I could, but I’d need a Time Turner to keep on top of it all,” she said, trying to keep her professional voice despite the waver, “I can send papers here to be signed until you return.”
She glanced behind her, noticing Silas had unexpectedly started to follow even though it obviously pained him. So despite his cold demeanor, he still wasn’t entirely unsociable. She’d half expected him to stay as far away from her as possible. He even lapsed into his more familiar tone of voice, and Jac suppressed a smile. The sardonic tone was comforting in a way, it let her know that the old Silas was still there, and perhaps there was hope that he would forgive her eventually... perhaps. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 23, 2011 11:37:51 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Jac didn’t look convinced by his attempt to undermine the seriousness of his predicament. He couldn’t blame her: it was hard to convince someone you were fine when you could barely stand and looked like you’d been on the wrong side of a bomb blast.
The troubled expression on Jac’s face as she turned to leave somehow made it worse; hollowing some of the anger out of his chest only to fill it with something heavier. Standing alone by the wall was suddenly uncomfortable and Silas straightened up to follow. Walking behind her felt less like he was grinding shattered glass into his knee with every step, but Jac would have to be blind not to notice how laborious the simple act of crossing the room had become.
Time-turners. Heavy workloads. The situation at Scores didn’t sound good. He’d expected things to falter in his absence, but Jac’s phrasing made it sound worse than he’d imagined. Silas frowned, only to discover even that was still painful. Not helping. How much of a mess was he going to have to clean up when they finally let him out of this place?
“Paperwork, my favourite,” Silas replied sarcastically, trying to inflect more of his old personality into the conversation. The attempt sounded forced even to him. Was there anything ‘normal’ about this? “Don’t worry; mail it over and I’ll try and convince these idiots I won’t stab them with a quill if they lend me one.”
Silas came to a wary halt near the bed, resting his hand on the frame and watching with suspicion when Jac stopped to search through her bag. What was she-? Scratch that. Why was he suspicious at all? Christ. He was jumping at shadows. Jac withdrew a perfectly innocent and presumably non-lethal, rectangular box that some miracle (or more likely, magic) had fit in her bag. Silas gave a barely noticeable cringe of recognition at the sight of it. She didn’t need to tell him what was inside; he could safely guess.
Christ. She’d kept that?
“It’s no use now,” Jac said, barely meeting his eyes and holding out the wand case, “but I didn’t know what to do with it... I couldn’t just throw it away.”
He took the box carefully, ignoring the burn in his shoulder before turning it slowly in his hands. “Thanks,” he said quietly, pretending to inspect the engravings on the lid without really seeing them. He wasn’t sure what to think, but the fact she hadn’t thrown it away was... comforting, he guessed. In it’s own way.
Silas took a deep breath, laying the case down on the corner of the bed. “Can’t believe those paranoid bastards let you bring this in here,” he remarked, looking at her for the first time and shifting his weight away from his broken leg.
It had to mean something. She’d have gotten rid of it if she didn’t care, right? Or maybe just... he didn’t even know. | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 25, 2011 21:11:45 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]There was something almost normal about this. Banter over paperwork and making an effort to be civil. It was the sort of conversation you’d have between strangers, if there wasn’t an oppressive unspoken tension lurking in the corner. Jac turned to face him fully, one hip cocked and her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
She watched Silas carefully as he accepted the gift, trying to read his expression with little success. Was he angry? Pleased? She guessed she had no right to question him, since he was making an effort not to give it away. Her eyes were on his face as he looked up, and she bravely held his gaze. His comment provoked a ghost of a devilish smile, “I may have neglected to mention I had it,” she admitted, meeting his eyes for a moment longer before dropping them, uncrossing her arms and absently smoothing her pocket where she usually kept her own wand. “They took mine, though,” Jac said with a perceivable shudder. She hated this place, and thinking about who owned and occupied it made her skin crawl.
The accountant glanced up to Silas, suddenly struck with the urge to be comforted, and to comfort him. She knew her worries were trivial compared to his, but there was something in a simple human touch that melted away even the most frightening of thoughts. Without thinking, her hand moved closer to him across the bedspread. Then realising what she was doing, she disguised it as a casual reach out to stroke the carvings on the wand-box.
“I should probably go,” she murmured, “I’ll send you my minutes and notes from... from the last few weeks.” She straighted and picked up her bag, “Is there anything else you need?” |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 26, 2011 16:51:30 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Of course they’d have taken her wand. Figured. Vampires were all happy to act tough and powerful, but God forbid they let you have anything that would tip away their valuable balance of power. Silas’s displeasure was obvious.
“You still have the necklace, right?” he asked, regretting the words before they were even fully out of his mouth. The necklace had associations; late night visits and warm fireplaces and a time when he was stupid enough to think he could care about someone without chemical aid. He was faltering for words again, and he made a noncommittal gesture as though to search for what he wanted to say. “Cause, you know, as long as you’ve got it, they can’t...” He sighed, giving up. He was tired. Now that the anger had mostly subsided he was just... tired.
Jac was afraid of the vampires (with good reason). Although, fear. Fear was a good point. She’d said before that fear played a big part after his absence. For some reason it had never struck him that it might be an influencing factor on her behaviour.
Jac’s stunt with the potion had opened his eyes to a lot of things and sensations that until then he hadn’t even been capable of comprehending. He’d vaguely understood the concept of romantic love enough to fake it before then, but nothing could have prepared him for what it meant to actually feel. It was even now a concept so alien he wasn’t entirely unconvinced that the potion wasn’t some gross, exaggerated mockery of it. But all you had to do was pick up a book to read the lengths a hero would go to for the sake of it and suddenly it didn’t feel so far off.
Fear was another one. He’d never felt fear either, but he knew from experience that if sufficiently motivated with fear an otherwise sane man would hack off his own leg for just a chance at escaping it. Hell, it was one of Silas’s main tools against an enemy, but it was still so far out of the realm of his usual experience he hadn’t even considered it.
He was starting to realise there was far more to the human experience than he ever could have dreamed of. And more than that, it was something he’d never taste ever again. He always said his ability to distance himself from normal emotions was his greatest strength, and in a way, perhaps it was. But he was learning that with the highs also came the lows, and to be fucking honest, he didn’t know which one was more preferable: feeling everything, good and bad, or just not feeling at all.
But he was getting off track. The million dollar question was: did it excuse Jac keeping up the charade for so long and not acting? Was fear powerful enough to override even love? There was no way to know for sure. On paper the power of fear and love seemed equal; a man who’d hack off his own leg for fear seemed equally likely to do it for love.
… Except that was just it. The books always had the man doing something stupidly dangerous in the name of love while the woman sat back terrified. Perhaps fear affected women differently? Perhaps their sense of self preservation was far more firmly rooted? Not that fiction novels were well known for their scientific accuracy, but it was all he had to go off. Perhaps the fact she’d come here at all when she’d been too scared to do it before said something.
Jac eased him back into reality by saying something about leaving. It was a testament to his scattered state of mind that his first impulse to those first words of ‘I should probably go’ was a quiet “No.”
His head slowly caught up to what he said, and a light frown started forming. What was her staying here supposed to achieve either? If she wanted to go, then so be it. Silas felt a bit startled at himself and quickly backtracked, working on setting the blockades back up. “I mean... If you need to go, fine. I’ll be alright.” | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 26, 2011 18:06:41 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]The longer this meeting went on, the more Silas seemed to lose that cold shoulder toward her. It was slow, but noticeable. He’d started off harsh and snappish, but now he was trying to protect her, and seemed reluctant for her to go. He tried to shrug it off, and he’d expressed himself badly, but she didn’t need to know him well to see that he was acting differently to usual.
With a little exaggeration she could see herself coming to the conclusion that he did want to see her, and maybe he even missed her, but he didn’t want to be happy about it. Maybe it was just her own desire to see the best in the situation, but could he really want her to stay? Or was he trying to be polite? That almost brought a smile to her lips. Silas was many things, and polite was not one of them.
Jac made a furtive glance to the door, and tried not to seem bashful in front of her former lover as she reached for a long chain under her shirt and drew out an intricate silver pendant from between her cleavage. Thank Merlin they hadn’t insisted on a strip search. She dropped it back once he had seen it, nervous that a vampire might burst through the door and cause a scene about it.
She was grateful to Silas more than ever for the gift. No vampire could hurt her with the Trinity Shield's protection, but there was only so much faith she could put in the power of that carved metal. She was sure a vampire could find a way around it if they wanted to. Nevertheless, it was a little boost in confidence and Jac needed every one she could get.
There was a pause while she decided what to do. She could leave and escape this more than awkward situation, or she could take a chance that he really did want her company and stay. The idea of leaving him here alone made the guilt rise up, and she realised she had to bear this for a little longer in the hopes that it might put them on the road to reconciliation.
“I don’t need to go...” She said softly, hesitating before adding, “I can stay if you want me to.” She realised as soon as she said it that she shouldn’t have. He’d have to think about whether or not he wanted her here, and even if there was a part of him that still worried about her, the part that felt all the hurt and betrayal would undoubtedly win out. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Mar 27, 2011 10:42:28 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Jac’s afterthought was bang on target. Whatever progress they’d made in the last few minutes took a very noticeable step back. The line of Silas’s jaw hardened and his gaze quietly moved away from her.
It didn’t matter there was some traitorous part of him that didn’t want her to leave. Although the words she wanted from him were simple, they had too many connotations. He couldn’t fight the impression she just wanted to hear them to confirm to herself she still had some kind of sway over him. Jac had done too much damage now to go deliberately fishing for reassurance.
“No, that’s fine,” he said brusquely, crossing his arms and turning to lean against the frame. “I’ll need those reports, and I need time to make a decision about the future of your employment.” It might have been unnecessarily harsh to bring that up so soon, but Silas was starting to feel a sense of bitter resentment rise up. With everything she’d done, a little more panic wasn’t only well deserved, it was justified.
Honestly, he had no freaking clue what he wanted to do with her. He’d had plenty of time to think about it, but something that should have been a straightforward decision (ie: fire the bitch and let the Aurors handle it) kept hitting a surprising amount of blanks. Her job performance was practically keeping the whole financial sector afloat and on a more personal note, cutting her loose felt entirely too much like acceding defeat. Like everything else to do with her, he’d dealt with it by trying to put it out of his mind. He was starting to realise he couldn’t do that forever. | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Mar 29, 2011 22:44:44 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]In the same way her blood drained from her face, the expression faded away from Silas’ like a receding tide. Oh Merlin, what had she said? He’d slammed a metaphorical door in her face and she felt lucky to get her fingers out of the way in time. Her jaw moved as if she wanted to say something, but her voice failed her. Her gaze darted about the room, never meeting his, her confidence shattered.
Her job, he was seriously considering whether or not she could keep it. She had been worried, no, petrified that he would reconsider her employment but she’d thought that they’d been getting somewhere. Then to have it slapped down like that out of the blue was unexpected. Whatever progress they had made was gone, all forgotten just because of one ill-timed suggestion.
Fairly quaking where she stood, Jac fumbled to pick up her bag and hold it under her arm. “I-- O-okay,” she stuttered, staring at the toes of her shoes. She tried, but she couldn’t say goodbye. Her throat was starting to burn, a ball rising up and strangling any more words that tried to voice themselves. She had to go, she couldn’t stand the pain slowly crushing down on her chest. An oppressive combination of guilt and dread entirely inspired by the man she now had to turn her back on before he saw the tears welling.
She reached for the door handle, fighting the urge for one more look back. But she turned the handle and slipped out of the door, pulling it closed behind her. The hallways were deathly quiet as before, and the vampire guard made no noise as she passed, only watching after her to make sure she took the right corridor out. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Apr 2, 2011 20:16:08 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Silas wished he hadn’t said anything. He really did. For the first time he wanted to know why he couldn’t have just kept his fucking mouth shut. Throughout their whole conversation Jac had been teetering and nervous, but it wasn’t until this point - until this ultimatum - that something inside her shattered into a million pieces; the thing that made her finally spiral over the edge. And it wasn’t finding out he was alive. It wasn’t being made to answer for herself. It wasn’t even finally seeing him again.
It was the thought that she might lose her job.
Not even that she HAD lost her job, that she MIGHT lose her job.
That was what made her loose all vestige of self control and made her damn near flee the room to quietly break down.
That was the one thing she cared about.
He wished he hadn’t said anything; he wished he could take it all back, because that was a cold truth he really didn’t need to see, and he couldn’t place why, but it hurt. It really fucking hurt.
Silas was dead silent as she swept past. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been struck numb or because he wouldn’t even know what to say if he caught her. Before he knew it the door had shut with a final-sounding thud and all there was was the sound of Jacaranda’s heels vanishing down the lonely hallway.
That was it. It was over. And the funny thing was, even though he was no longer on the potion, in the sudden empty silence left in her wake, he’d never felt more alone. | [atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,bottom] | [atrb=valign,bottom] |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Apr 6, 2011 7:55:13 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]She managed to get to reception before the tears started to roll and she reclaimed her wand without a word. She needed to be out of here before the great dam inside her burst. She was holding so much back, and Jac knew the pressure of it was never going to ease. Losing her job was symbolic of losing Silas. The two were so intricately connected that it was hard to separate the fear of ruining her career and losing something that she had become so enraptured in. The way Silas had made her feel before all of this... it was hard to describe. She knew it was manufactured, deep down she did, but it was better than anything she’d ever experienced. He’d made her happy, content. If he fired her, he was driving a stake through her hopes of ever getting that back. She wanted him back, the way they had been. She’d do anything for a Time Turner if it meant she could go back to that Valentine’s Day and suggest they meet at her place instead. Then none of this would have happened. She could have stopped giving him the potion, they could have been happy and safe. Together. She choked on a sob, stepping into the fireplace and forcing her voice to say her address clearly. The woman collapsed onto her sofa, burying her face in the upholstery. What was she saying? She would be lying to him, yet again. She would be constructing a fantasy based on deception like she had been doing for months. There was no reconciliation from this. There was no fixing this. Silas had every right to fire her. She should be grateful he wasn’t sending her to Azkaban! Great sobs wracked her body and she clutched at his silver Trinity necklace hard enough to leave a mark on her palm. It was a long time before her tears and panic subsided to leave her drained. She didn’t even bother to take herself up to bed, and just stared mindlessly at the cold fireplace, drifting into a nightmarish sleep of dark shadows and nameless fear. Her fate would catch up with her sooner or later, and she only had herself to blame for the outcome. |
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