Participants:
| Scene Title | Want vs. Allowed |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Amato finally finds himself alone enough to do something Raith asks but finds that he's not equal to E2. |
| Date | April 20, 2011 |
Despite it being quieter than Bannerman Castle, the Dispensary is hardly the sort of place where one can sneak around easily under the noses of others. So it's mid-afternoon when Amato finds himself with his back against the doorjamb to Eileen's room.
He stares into the space with obvious hesitation, looking back down the hall before he slips inside, his slipper feet next to silent on the bare floors. The night stand isn't hard to find, and it's the easiest way to confirm Raith's suspicions. Not that Eileen's room isn't littered with the sort of things Amato would need to find out everything she's been doing recently, but…well, that's an invasion of privacy that's worse than going through her drawers.
crunch crunch crunch
crunch crunch crunch
The apple eater wasn't exactly spying on Amato but when people enter places they generally don't belong Edgar's mischief meter goes up like sparkly alien antennae that one would buy at a novelty store.
For once, he's dressed appropriately, for a man, still not entirely comfortable showing off his prettier side to the other lads in the dormatory. Old corduroys with worn through spots, a leather patch on the knee with his name lovingly embroidered on, so everyone knows his name is ~Augusto~. A threadbare blue t-shirt is stretched over his shoulders, looking a bit see through in places, if only because of age.
"What're yeh doin'?" It's not an accusatory question or even one of a stool pigeon, what Edgar's looking for can't be found in a nightstand.
The room itself is sparsely furnished with a full-sized bed built from wood that sits low on the floor, its design simple but functional, including a canopy with white linens draped over the beams for additional privacy. A white goose feather comforter provides warmth in the winter but has been folded down now that it's spring, exposing plain cotton sheets and a green and blue quilt beneath that's reminiscent of the ocean view out the room's solitary window.
She does not sleep here as much as she used to, but the room is plainly lived-in and smells of Eileen's perfume: Turkish rose oil with a delicate touch of cedar to give its base notes more structure and depth. The scent lingers like ether in the cool air and combines with the more stringent scents of cigarette smoke and fresh tobacco.
An old vanity with additional drawers for storage, its mirror badly water-stained and in dire need of repair or replacement is only a shade or two lighter than the mahagony of the exposed rafters and displays a handful of Eileen's personal belongings: a hand-painted jewelry box, tortoiseshell reading glasses, and a rose-tinted bottle of French perfume with a silver cap in the shape of the flower its scent resembles. This is probably what Raith meant by nightstand even though it's on the opposite side of the room as the bed, but it's the only piece of furniture with a drawer.
Thump thump thump. It's the sound of Ethan off to do things Ethan does during the day. Boots thudding into the flooring as he passes by Eileen's empt— Wait what. A few steps after he passes the room, the man who can kinda not die is pausing. He flicks a gaze to the creature balanced precariously on his shoulder in a 'did you see that' sort of way. Before turning on his feet and wandering back towards the room. Filling the doorframe he glances at the two very not female occupants of the female room. A squinty gaze is delivered to Amato then Edgar as Ethan goes to take Thomas from his shoulder and balance the toddler Raccoon in his arms.
"Whot th'fuck?"
Ethan steps into the room fully, more to glare at the two men rather than do anything. Amato gets a perplexed look, but instead of asking him Ethan opts to look to Edgar for an explanation. Because Edgar is better, obviously.
At least, better at explaining.
No one is going to deny that.
Amato is halfway to the vanity before he turns to stare at Edgar, but the sound of Ethan's boots in the hall keep him from answering the first question that hangs in the air. He slowly straightens, moving from the bent posture of the uneasy criminal to the impossibly straight spine of the innocent. Slowly, he lifts a hand, the cuff of his ill-fitting shirt sliding an inch down his forearm, and points across his torso to the vanity.
"Jensen," is all he says before his voice is cut off by a quick swallow. He has a truce with Ethan - this shouldn't be a problem. Yet the simple explanation doesn't get out, and he turns his pale eyes to Edgar.
Another bite is taken from Edgar's apple and he chews nonchalantly. He's leaning against the wall watching Amato too. Shrugging up at Ethan, he puts on a dumbfounded expression that seems to say what? before shaking his head in answer like I dunno. Opening his mouth, he's just about to take another bite when a black paw comes down on the meat of the fruit, digging little claws in and making the speedster think twice about risking rabies. "Uhhh.. you c'n 'ave i'.." is said to the raccoon as he relinquishes what's left, it's only a few bites and a core, after all.
That's the Edgar version of the explanation.
Before Ethan's second child can grab a proper hold of the apple, the speedster has let go and after a blur is across the room, looking at a rather pretty sweater. Too bad it's not his size. "Yeh think she'll grow'r sumthen? Mebbe we can feed'er an make 'er fat so she'll buy things teh share." The sweater is dropped and in a blink, the man is next to Amato, stooped to look at the items on top. Maybe try on the glasses.
"Jensen's in the nightstand?"
It doesn't seem very likely, certainly. Ethan looks down at the nightstand before looking back up at Amato. "Whot does 'e think is in there?" A glance over to Edgar then back to Amato. "'e's fine." Ethan dismisses, if Amato has any qualms with saying things in front of the speedster, they should be gone now. When Thomas leaps from his arms to steal Edgar's food, Ethan smirks quietly.
Taking a fw steps forward, he watches Edgar quietly for a moment. "Did you drink breastmilk when y'were out've th'womb?" He quirks his lips and features making an expression that very aptly expresses he doubts it. Before looking back at Amato. "Whot?"
Amato's features tighten with insecurity, relaxing only when Ethan steps forward and he's passed a furtive glance to Edgar and the raccoon. Then, he shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing. "No. Why would Jensen be in the night-vanity." Because Amato knows it's not a nightstand. Not really.
"Jensen had a dream. And so did I. He thought that maybe Eileen had as well. She's been taking sedatives. I," and he looks from Ethan to Edgar again, a degree of protective righteousness seeping into his expression. "I was going to check." Even if she hasn't been staying here, there's a slim chance that some paraphernalia of some sort or another has been left behind.
"What're you talkin' abou'? I drink i' now.. we all do." Edgar says in regards to the breast milk comment. Then he gives a blank expression from Amato to Ethan and shrugs his shoulders upward, the tortoise shell glasses giving his eyes a bit more of a magnified look. "Wha'? I' was my turn teh provide the milk, weren't i'? I figgered cow… cow…" Assuming he's not talking about two cows. "Wha's the diff'rence, righ'? 'Sides, tha' baby 'ad plenty more bottles when I ran by.. S'no' like et's goin'teh starve'r nothin'." Really, it could have been formula for all anyone knows.
Pulling the glasses off his face, he pinches the bridge of his nose and blinks hard a few times to regain normal vision. "'Ow can anyone wear those? Really? S'like seein' everythin' all blurry."
"A dream? Like a weird dream?" The way he asks is indicative enough that he had one, also. A dream he couldn't explain. But in good Ethan fashion, he has neglected to speak with anyone on the subject. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure there isn't a bird or Eileen herself right behind him. A glance over to Edgar where..
What.
The man pauses as he gives just a blank stare to Edgar. "Put my daughters glasses down. Please." Ethan commands cleanly. "You'll stretch 'im out. With your giant head." The Wolf stares hard at Edgar as if trying to discern how much truth the man is speaking. It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The milk is going to taste funny no matter what. Shiiit. "Go make sure Eileen isn't around." He gives a circular motion with his finger. "And birds. Scare off birds if'n there's any, ey?"
Ethan's demand of Edgar is seconded by Amato's own glower, followed by an agreeing nod. "Hawks," he says with slightly narrowed eyes aimed at the window. Idly, his glance slides from the window to one of the corners of the room, his thoughts drifting to other precautions.
"Yes," he says when he brings his attention back to Ethan again, but he waits to expound on that until Edgar has taken care of the perimeter. "I think…I think I know what it might be, but…" But Amato shakes his head, unsure once more.
Always the look out…
Letting loose a long sigh, the speedster blurs before a blue and brown streak moves through the room and then out. Oddly enough, when he does leave there's a pillowcase missing from the bed as well. Hopefully, Eileen doesn't count the linens or else Edgar might be making a run to Bed Bath and Beyond… or someone's clothesline. Likely the latter rather than the former.
Unlike Ethan's booted feet, Edgar's move too quickly to be able to hear anything aside from a machine gun type sound well after he's passed by. As he navigates through the dispensary, sharp whistles and booming echoes fill the walls, startling the small birds that inhabit the area. Whatever Edgar's doing it's loud enough to raise the dead, and one raven sleeping downstairs.
Perfect job for a pillow case.
Now Edgar, being somewhat inexperienced when it comes to the psychology of birds, couldn't tell a canary from a parakeet. The only reason he knows the raven is not a writing desk is because it's been referred to as a raven every time he's asked. He's asked quite often. Birds, as a side, enjoy their cages being covered at night. Unfortunately Bran is without a cage, which makes it rather difficult to place the pillow case on top of it. Maybe a moment or two later, the loud cawing of the bird can be heard through the building before Edgar leaps up the stairs two by two.
"Righ' then, birds'r gone, 'cept the pet one an' 'e's busy trying teh free hisself from a passing pillow sack."
"Arright. I need a clothespin' or somethin'." Ethan grunts, glancing over at Amato. The Wolf stares at him for a long moment. An unvoiced question is there, but it will have to wait. Because Edgar is already gone. While the speedster moves away, Ethan clasps his hands in front of him and waits patiently. Head lolls to the side, steel toes tapping down gently. Holden frowns gently at Edgar before letting out a sharp laugh. "You put Bran in a pillow case." A hearty chuckle is let out. "Serves 'im right for being a dick bird."
Holden lowers himself towards the vanity thing. Glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry Edgar. Could I get a small tool, please? Clothespin. A nail. Something small and maneuverable. Hairpin.. Anything. And yes, Amato's prick would work if it weren't attached to 'im." He gives a little grin to the other Brit. "But you don't 'ave to cut it off."
A roll of his eyes is all the recognition that Amato gives the joke at his own expense, and unlike the other two, he arches an eyebrow in a brief moment of concern for the raven. He coughs lightly into a fist before uncurling his fingers to point at a bobby pin in plain sight near the vanity's mirror.
"Will that work?"
It does.
Work.
The contents of Eileen's vanity are fairly unimpressive, at least as far as dark secrets go. When the drawer opens, it produces a rattling sound — the pills Jensen implied would be there are, but Amato might have trouble differentiating the medication at a glance. There are sedatives, but there are also anti-depressants, several packages of birth control and a bottle of painkillers toward the back.
A wooden carving given to Eileen by one of the men in room has been wrapped in a a pierce of cloth with flowers embrodiered along one edge and sits beside a long knife familiar to no one. Her journal, a plain leatherbound thing, is yet another reason why she keeps the drawer locked.
Edgar's eyes jump directly to the knife, his brow furrowing a little as he tries to discern what sort it is. Reaching toward it he attempts to pluck it from the confines of the drawer only to be cock blocked by Ethan. "Wha'? If she din't want anyone teh touch i' it'd be locked up in a be'er location wouldn't i'?" Regardless, he doesn't venture much further, preferring to fold his arms over his chest and look toward the door.
The caw'ing from down below has stopped and Edgar disappears for a moment, only to reappaer when it starts again. "'E go' out," the speedster explains, "this time I tied a knot in i'?"
"Let 'im touch it first." Ethan growls, pushing Edgar's wrist away. If Ethan had a heart, it would melt at the side of the wooden carving. His hands going to drop into his lap. Holden's jaw tightens somewhat. The man stares into the drawer, eyes flicking from the knife, to the journal before he stares up at Amato. "Do what you're gonna do."
But Amato takes a step away from the open drawer, not toward it, his eyes moving from the contents to Ethan. "I see the pills," he says blandly, brows knitting. "I will talk to her about the dream. I will not," and he looks to the drawer again, from the journal to the knife, "I will not do more." Without reading the labels, he can't tell what the various medications are for - but knowing that there are several is enough to further solidify his decision not to invade.
Looking to Edgar, he narrows his eyes, his lips twisting in incredulous disgust. "Let the bird out," he says simply, his voice flat. Halfway to the door, he turns, looking thoughtful again. "Jensen was bringing a child to the monastery." Amato turns, looking at Ethan sidelong. "They are two pieces of the puzzle - not enough to see much. Not yet."
"So… Wha' does 'e do 'sides queerin' up the place?" This coming from a man who dresses like a woman half the time. The cawing has stopped again, likely the bird has shredded the pillow case and is well on his way to ratting on the trio. Not that the speedster is too concerned, in his mind birds have the intelligence of… uhm… goldish.. and uhm… maybe Edgar himself.
Another glance is given to the sweater, this time a more longing one, damn that Eileen for being too small for his size. "Think she'll star' guzzlin' bacon grease on a dare?" Maybe she'll get bigger clothing or something.
Ethan frowns deeply up at Amato. Before giving a little nod. Then looks up to Edgar. Then back to Amato. "That's a very respectable decision, Amato. You don't want to intrude on my daughter. I respect your decision." Holden leans back on his heels some before looking to Edgar. Then over to Amato. "But she is my daughter. I am allowed to intrude." His hand jumps out to seize Amato's wrist.
"Edgar. Push th' knife to 'is 'and." Holden bobs his chin to allow the gesture. "Relax Amato. You don't 'ave to take any responsibility and you still get to perv out on my daughter. It's win-win for you."
No match for either Ethan or Edgar's strength or speed, Amato tenses, his hands curling into fists when he's grabbed, the thin fabric of his shirt the only thing keeping Ethan's more recent infractions from flooding his senses. He had thought, for a fleeting moment, that things would be all right.
He should have known better.
"Not for years." He spits the almost inaudible words through gritted teeth, glaring at Ethan even as he twists in the other man's grip. "You want to intrude - fine. Do it with that book. Not with me. I won't betray her like that - even if there were nothing to see."
But by the time the first words spurt from Amato's lips, Edgar's already gone for the knife. Before the suggestion of the book can be considered, his fist is grappled into a handshake with the knife pressed between his hand and the speedster's. A swift flit of dark blue eyes find Ethan's before the carnie is staring at Amato again, waiting for him to either explode or float or whatever he does. Hopefully not explode, that might hurt.
"Are you goin' teh read the book too?" It might make for a good bathroom read, which is all Edgar's interested in at the moment. His attention is torn between keeping Amato still, Ethan, and watching the door. Who knows when the mistress of the manor will return. Or how angry she'll be if she finds all three of them in there.
The residual skin cells on the knife tell Amato part of the story that he's been attempting to piece together. Images flash behind his eyes. First: a tall, dark-haired man in the shadows of store with a dimly-lit interior. Astor holds the knife in his own hand and the reflection of the blade turns the green parts of his irises almost gray, but the illusion is gone in a blink of dense coal lashes. I'll take it, he says to the woman on the other side of the counter.
Next: the same man— boy— who can tell? kneels in the snow, breath fogging from nostrils and mouth. A lift of his chin allows him to spy the Dispensary through the trees, and he pauses to listen to the crackle of wings in the branches overhead. He blesses either the blade or himself with its handle in a series of almost furtive gestures — forehead, heart, shoulder-shoulder — then begins to bury it beneath the blanket of ash-white.
Last: Eileen, flakes of silver gleaming in her hair, knife unearthed from the ice and clutched in a bare, shaking hand as a shadow descends from the slope above. I've got her, someone yells, and the rest is a sheet of crimson.
That he was there when Feng led his assault on the Dispensary, it turns out, was no coincidence at all.
"Not gonna read th'book." Ethan admits, quietly. "That's 'er thoughts. Those remain safe. And 'idden. But if there's something we can do to make sure she's safe. We'll intrude all we need." The Wolf growls. Holding fast to Amato's wrist. Once Edgar slams the knife into Amato's hand, Holden goes to release. Recalling the knife, he goes to place it back in the drawer. Going to re-lock and shut it.
The Wolf stands, glaring down at Amato.
"Whot did ya think y'were goin' t'find? If none of that interested you. Whot did you dream about?" A glance over to Edgar. "Y'can let Bran go. 'e's probably pissed off and shittin on our food."
The smattering of images act like squares of a quilt, each fashioned individually and separately, but coming together help create a larger whole. Once the visions start, Amato is helpless, captivated by the immediately recognizable and painfully elusive face of the young man. But as the story of the knife progresses, his furrowed brows unknit, lifting upward with pain and disbelief.
"I-" he stammers once he blinks back to reality, Ethan and Edgar emerging from the blur of his ability. "I thought maybe she dreamed like we did. Jensen and I. But…" Those dream images of himself and Raith seem much less important now. "The knife belongs to Astor. He…buried it in the snow. Eileen retrieved it when…when Feng found her."
There's an altogether too intentional purpose behind it all. Why bury a knife with such ritual if not with the knowledge that it would be needed later? Amato frowns, his fingers curling into his palms. "Twice, now. Twice is no coincidence. Twice is no random act of chance."
Nodding once to the order, Edgar takes the normal speed on his exit from the room. Once he steps over the threshold, he's a little more nervous, glancing about the rafters before zipping off to where the shredded pillow case lies in ribbons on the floor. Ravens are crafty bastards. Picking up the remains, he blurs out of the building and off to find a suitable replacement for the bit of linen.
The texture and hue of the cloth is the part that he tries to match up. The scent isn't something that's going to be able to be mimicked, it'll just have to soak up the ambient smells in its own. With any luck it'll be before Eileen puts her head down again. If not… Edgar's got big shoulders, he can handle it.
Watching Amato for a long moment, Ethan does not stir. Finally he takes a single step away from the man. Walking towards the window, Holden turns rapidly around the corner. The Wolf takes his departure without a word. Going to scoop up Thomas and hold the tiny raccoon against his bites and scratches as the man leaves.
Even with the pillowcase replaced after another blur of the speedster, the room is far from the same once the other two leave. Amato's shoulder sag, and he looks from side to side before he slinks from the room, reaching with effort to slowly close the door behind him.