tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; July 1, morning
Rating; PG, PG-13 tops. (Emo! and Pimp! notices apply)
Characters; Lukia Cromwell (

blood_kimono) & Cain Hargreaves (

misterblackbird)
Summary; Lukia asks to speak with Cain. Mysteries, unresolved questions, and a proposal of marriage (or is it?) hang between them. (It's like Gothic Jane Austen ♥)
Log;
Oh, the bitter fragrance of these flowers...

She had asked to speak to him.
Of course she would.
There was too much as yet unresolved: he had said he would come to her room for her answer. And she had waited for him, presumably, her answer waiting with her, until she had been drugged with chloroform and--and ended up in the City along with him.

He felt he'd closed that door. He was done with her. And yet, he wasn't: he had to revisit those old rooms. Everthing that had happened at the Cromwell house had been some time ago. She was like Merry: she knew nothing of what had been since then.

What flowers had he brought her that night? White lilies: yes, he remembered now. Along with what he'd carried in them. And now, at the florist's shop, he chose them again and paid for them in silence.

Carrying them back out into the street, the petals shone, glowed almost, in the morning light. Brightness and sunlight: not like that night and those times, red butterflies and thunderstorms.

So far removed for him, but still ahead for her. It wouldn't do for her to know everything that he knew or everything that happened. She would, in that case, essentially know the future. And the future is a fluid thing, despite Merry's sharp cards. No one can know the entire truth.

All she wanted was to give her answer. And he would hear it. But how much he said thereafter was a more delicate thing: a spider's web of conversation. So much depended upon it.

So it was with more than a little trepidation that he knocked on her door that morning.

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The day had just begun however if felt as if a year to Lukia. Wearing the same dress as the night she had been so strangely taken to this place, Lukia sat in what seemed to be a kitchen. She had a few tinny burns in her hands from trying to make some tea for the past few days. Truly she had never made it before, and having only watched her maids warm it up over a fire in her room did not prove to be helpful. The entire layout of the flat was confusing to the Lady, but she tried as best she could.

However the only thing that mattered to her now was the knock she has been waiting for. What she would say had been swirling through her brain the entire day before as she lay in her slip on her bed in the sweltering heart. She had opened a window but the outside had not been kind enough to help. She toyed with the strange looking cups she had found in the flat as she waited for Cain.

Finally the sound came and she calmly opened the door, red dress and hair in perfect order. As a lady she would not be seen any other way. “Hello Cain, it is good to see you again.” giving her small smile she curtsied to him before steeping aside to let him in the door. “Please come in, I made us some tea I found in the panty.”

"Thank you," he said stepping into the apartment. He kept the flowers halfhidden at his side. Purposefully, and yet also experimentally, he reached for her hand to kiss. "Likewise," he said kindly.

She seemed well enough, he thought. Strange how he felt vaguely responsible for her. Perhaps because he was one of the few people she knew in the City. She was used to isolation, which would make it difficult for her when she needed help.

As she did now. Her dress was a clean as she could make it, and her hair was combed, but she was vaguely disheveled. Her eyes seemed a bit dull. And, yes, those were burns he saw on her fingers.

"Are you well, Lukia?" he asked, returning her hand to her.

A wince crossed the ladies face as Cain kissed her hand. “As well as can be expected.” she gave a weak smile before turning to move toward a chair. “This place is slightly confusing to me” in her mind she wished she had gloves to cover her shameful burns… gloves like the ones her brother had… “Please Cain” saying as she turned around again with a small smile and stood behind her chair. “I would like to hear from you.” A kind and familiar voice would do Lukia well.

Cain laughed lightly. "You'd like to hear from me? What do you want me to say?" Quietly, he passed the bouquet of flowers to her. "Here. I wanted to bring these to you before--and I thought they might brighten up your new house a bit. Something a bit familiar in an unfamiliar place."

He hoped she at least knew what to do with flowers, even if she burned herself making tea. No, that was too unkind. She would, certainly. Still, she seemed helpless, and there wasn't much more he could do for her in this place.

"Are you in need of anything? Help, perhaps? I'm certain you could find someone to live with, or someone who could help you."

If neither of them made a move, it seemed that the real words would be blocked by idle chatter. Another stalemate. This was frustrating and useless. So.

"Lukia, you said we ought to speak."

A smile crossed her lips as she saw the flowers. “Thank you; I greatly appreciate your kindness.”

Turning to the sink and retrieved a knife. She also got a large glass, put water into it and started to cut off the tips so that the water could feed the flowers better. The garden had been her favorite place in the Butterfly Mansion, care of flowers was something she knew well.

“Help? Yes that would be a nice thing to have.” Lukia could not see herself living with anyone else however. She was scared that these people would chide her as the others had in their world. She would step slowly into this place and meet people on her own time.

She paused from putting the flowers away with Cain’s last statement and put the knife down, turning to him. “Yes, last time you wanted to hear my answer… yet I can not help but wonder if it matters to you in this world.” looking away from him, in her mind she wanted to avoid her answer.

He wanted nothing more than to lean against a chair, one hand in a pocket, something to affect an air of nonchalance. And he would have, if time for her was the same as it was for him. If they'd met in London again, for whatever reason, perhaps she would still be hidden in black crepe and jet jewlery, and she'd asked him the same question, he would have smiled his proud smile and demanded her answer.

That wouldn't do here. As yet.

"I said I would come to your room to hear your answer."

He disliked saying the words again: it brought back the memories that she didn't have. As yet.

"And I have. Even in another world. It's not so different, is it? You awoke before and saw me and you have awoken here and seen me again. Remember?"

Too serious. He was curious, really. She had seemed so resistant when he'd asked before, dark--what was it he'd said? obsidian--eyes wide when he'd collected her up from the table, playing with the lace on her dress. Scandalous, really.

He'd acted nonchalant then, come to think of it, hand in the pocket and everything. And it had worked then.

He leaned against the back of a chair, and tried to smile softly. "I do want to hear your answer."

For curiosity's sake.
How well had it all worked that night?

Lukia put the flowers down and sat down in a seat. “yes, but it is not as simple as that.” taking a hold of her cup of tea she looked into it. The tea was not really to her liking, but it would do. “When I was in our world, my plan was to say yes.” she looked away. “You did not seem to want to actually take me as your wife. But going to London… getting away from everyone however… it sounded like a nice idea.” she looked back at him, teary eyed, yet not crying; so much of the pain she had felt from living in the butterfly mansion was visible on her face. She looked away again, ashamed for showing him such a side of her.

He sat down across from her as she sat, watching her fingers on the cup. Perhaps it was rude, but he wouldn't touch the tea, thank you. He hoped, then, that she wouldn't be able to see through her haze of tears how cold his gaze was then.

"Would you really?"

It was true that he had no intention of marrying her: that hadn't been the point of the proposal in the first place. Though it hadn't been a difficult trick to play, since she was beautiful--exotic, even--and in a desperate situation.

But she had been thrown out into the City without learning the truth. It had been mere moments away. And so they were trapped with their tenuous innuendo.

Interesting, then, that she'd gotten her wish to escape to the city--not the city she'd expected, perhaps. And that he'd set her up in this flat. And that she was rather dependent on him--more than he'd like, really.

So she'd ended up as she would have if he'd taken her, but not as a wife.

But that hadn't been the purpose of the question. So how much could be said without setting the girl in the fortuneteller's dilemma of knowing what will happen but not knowing how or when?

"I'm a bit surprised. You seemed quite shocked--scandalized even."

He leaned one elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand.
So now begins the spider's weaving, the tenuous conversation, with the future pendant on it, like the spider itself.

"Do you know why I said I wanted to take you back with me?"

Lukia got rid of her tears with a hand, but still did not look at him “Yes, any lady would find the treatment you gave me to be scandalous.”

She got up and turned her back to him, letting more tears fall. “You said because you wanted to protect me from the murder, that you wanted me for your self.”

The time he tried to kiss her flashed into her mind, it was not a pleasant thought, but she had worse. “Do you know why I would want to leave, even with someone like you?”

"Yes, that is what I said."

He remembered that turn of events, when she'd overheard him on the telephone and the best--no, not "best" but perhaps "most effective"--means of both buying her silence and setting up the pieces for his announcement at dinner had been to give her a confession of love and try to kiss her. He'd already gotten a fair idea of how the rest of the game would play out by then--though he'd been off by more than half and the pieces lost were significant ones.

Dangerous ground to tread, even in thought, lest it escape into speech. All right: how far to go in this game, then?

"I know what your father always said about how his family was furious about his marriage to your mother, and I suspect your stepmother was none too kind to you either. You wanted to escape that, even though it might mean leaving everything familiar behind. Even your father and your stepbrother."

He glanced over at her sharply to see if his words had hit a nerve. Any nerve would do. He would move depending on how they hit.

Lukia did flinch at the mention of her family. “Father… he tried very hard to protect me from the harsh words of others. Yet…” Lukia did not want to speak anymore. “Cain…” she trailed off, her thoughts yelling at her to speak again, hugging her arms close to herself. “There was no escape I could find, no lasting one.”

He eyed her distantly, almost apathetically. He was done with her: inasmuch as he had needed it to, the ruse had worked. He hadn't anticipated how seriously she would take it. And that it would linger. But in the absence of any sort of finality to it, of course it would linger, trailing behind her like the sleeves of her kimono.

Resting his forehead on his fingertips, he watched her through his eyelashes.

"You have one now. There is no known or guaranteed way out of this City. One can fall into it easily enough, but one cannot get out again. You are as far removed from your house as you perhaps have ever been.

"Lukia," he said quietly, "Sweet, beautiful, sad, strange, girl. The reason I said I wanted to marry you, or at the very least steal you away to London was to draw out the murderer. Do you understand?"

He rose and went to stand near her.

"Think of the murderer like a poison--it sinks into the body and hides to do its damage, unless something can draw it back out of the blood before it does its harm. You mattered a great deal to the murderer, I'm certain of it, so I knew that you would be the the best way to heal your house, so to speak."

Slowly he reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders and draw her closer.

"But you, my intended antidote, have ended up here."

“I see” was all that lukia could say. A thousand things screamed through her brain.

Everything was about the killer, but didn’t the spirit of her mother kill her stepmother? What was he not telling?

He talked about poison. She was an antidote?

She was not breathing well as all of the thoughts ran through her head. She became dizzy and almost passed out from the street, only to fall to her knees. “Ca… Cain… who did you think the killer wanted to kill next?” she did not even seem aware that she had fallen.

He caught her hand as she fell and tried to lift back to her feet. If she asked, she would know, but he would carry it no further than suspicions and possibilities. For the moment, once again, it was speculation.

His voice was level.

"After I said I wanted to marry you, I suspect he wanted to kill me."

He leaned over her.

"And I knew that when I had your answer, I would know for certain. Lukia, there's more to this than your mother's vengeful spirit."

Lukia nodded. She was slightly happy that her dear mother was not suffering enough in the after life to need to come back and kill. But it was still very confusing. “Why would you risk your life in order to find a killer?” Lukia looked up at him with her large eyes. “Why couldn’t you just walk away?!”

Slowly he slid down to kneel beside her on the floor, decorum long since abandoned. He tried to see her face.

"Your father ordered us to stay until the crime was solved. I could hardly go against that. And, being trapped in the house, what else could I do but try to solve the riddle and leave? Doesn't that make sense to you?"

Just as slowly, he reached out to touch her face.

"When you awoke, and as I learned more and more, I saw how trapped you were. Lukia, You have beautiful wings. You ought to be free to fly."

Perhaps that was too much. It was so close to what Emile had said before-- But it would work. And now the lies had to be spun. For the truth was that he had seen the scars and cuts on her stepbrother's hands, and he had wanted to save him from that dark house. Perhaps thereby he could save Lukia too: she was beautiful and lost. But what would it do to her to know her stepbrother, beloved and tortured, was the killer? She would know that pain if she ever fell back into their world. While it had been the killer's--Emile's--fault, his motive was honorable: to protect the one he cared about the most.

And, straying too far out onto the dark rooftop again, that would force Cain to remember more revelations, the still darker ones that had followed him here.

Lies would be comfortable for a while.

He would insist that he still suspected that medium.
Not as if he were all that friendly with him anyway--an easy lie.

Gently he trailed his fingers down her face.

"Lukia, you've fallen into the City now. You are impossibly far away from all of that. You're free now."

Lukia stood still. Freedom was something that a Lady of her time could only dream of, but this seemed to be a little strange.

She had some idea of what she needed to do as a free person, but she really needed help. “I … I don’t want to keep burning my fingers.”

She took his hand from her face and held it. “I am going to need some help.”

"Of course," he said, smiling gently and looking at their hands. "You've only just come to your senses, and you're in a strange place, surrounded by strangers. But, truly, if you'd ended up in London, you'd be in the same situation."

Good. She believed him enough and was interested enough in her own freedom to let go of her questions for the moment. But it was still a delicate story. If she questioned him again, or if she questioned someone else, or if someone told, or even if there was a curse, all might be lost and she might know the truth.

He'd meant to be done with her after his ruse. But the ruse hadn't yet taken full effect yet for her. And so he was stuck with the very unintended consequence of having her with him, as if his proposal had been genuine. But as a what? A friend? A lover? A mistress?

"You'll have to be set up properly, certainly, as you ought to be. Re-established here, in your new house."

Now came a delicate step.

He'd meant to be done with her. To offer help meant to stay nearby to her, or at least that she would stay nearby to him. And he'd rather she not, not with those three in the City too.

But they were done with her too. They'd done--he, his father had done--the damage to her family. The deaths and revelations had followed.

So how much risk was it here and now?

He looked into her face again, still smiling softly.

"And you know you can call on me for help and I'll do...as much as I can for you."

Lukia looked up at him, the light in her eyes slowly coming back, she lightly laughed. “You know, it was rather funny when I first turned on the stove, I hade no idea what I was doing.”

Standing up a little bit more from her seat on floor she brushed her dress flat around her. “These clothes need of washing as well.”

Looking back at him she wore her usual small smile. “Thank you for telling me the truth Cain. It looks like my wish came true without your help.”

Glancing around them she sighed “I think I will move in with someone as well. I do need someone to explain most of the things here to me, but I don’t want to be waited on hand and foot again.” she laughed, as if the thought was funny. “I’m free.”

Cain laughed with her for a moment. "I'm certain you were confused. And I did you no favour by setting you up here with no explanation, no help, nothing."

He offered her his hand to help her to her feet.

"I think it would be a wise decision to find a flatmate. It's not uncommon at all here. And I can help you somewhat with that--at least in determining who would be suitable company for you."

Quietly, he stepped back away from her to let her stand on her own. She was free, and free too of him and his proposal. Good. They were done then. His obligation was almost ended if she meant to, metaphorically, stand on her own.

"You're free," he said quietly, smiling half gently, half proudly.

Lukia slowly rose to her feet. The whole sensation felt very odd; probably from the near faint; but also good.

Cain would be there for her if thing feel to shreds, but she would not rely on him. After a life time of confinement she could see something new now.

“Cain will you help me post to the network in regards to finding a flat mat? That would be a great help.”

She smiled at him in her small way. “I must learn to flap my wings before I can fly.”

"You know a bit about how that works. You posted when you arrived, after all, and you've posted since then. Think of it like placing an advertisement in the paper."

He wondered, briefly, if this might be the beginning of his offering more help than he intended. Still, if she were set up with someone suitable, she would learn how to survive better, and thereby need less and less of his help.

It seemed almost a shame to sever all ties to her. It hadn't been a difficult trick to say he wanted to marry her, after all.

"Just say that you're a newcomer to the City, and you know very few people here, and you would like to find someone with whom you can share a flat, if only because the ticking noise is unbearable."

Now what mattered what who, or what, responded to that announcement. He would have to watch the responses carefully. He knew something about who to avoid and who would be safe. If he'd known anyone who was looking for a roommate he would send them a note, but there wasn't anyone. For all that he spoke to so many people he realized how poorly connected he was here as compared to London.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see--" he hesitated, weighing the turn of phrase on his tongue. It was tempting. It would ease his mind, all the things known but left unsaid. The things done, but left undone. So.

"--what the future holds for you."

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Log; Ongoing

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