The house, it would seem, was quiet. There was no raucous party, nor stream of lovers coming and going, no, Benson and Sari had made sure to keep the place clean, but after a thrown wine bottle followed by a fireball the pair had wrote to Ella, and then Sari had gone next door to Master Malik's home to take care of Annie. Benson stayed in the lower quarters, but had kept an open ear from the Master's study and bathroom where Kaczor had locked herself since Ella's last letter.
Benson knew there were exactly 30 bottles of wine, three crystal decanters of whisky, and a hidden bottle of lyrium laced 90 proof alcohol in a hidden drawer. The shattering bottles had started a few minutes after the letter had been delivered, and Benson tried to remember if he had cleared out the more illicit concoctions that had been the Master's choice in recreational mind alteration in her youth. The Master had been clean and sober for so long that it was difficult to know if the woman had anything in there that would be more dangerous than just the alcohol.
But Benson was fairly certain that once the Master had the time she needed to figure out what was going on that things would be fine once more. The master used to have a thriving social circle, spent time with her parents, and had a social calendar that was oft times triple booked, and once the Master and Lady were on better footing again, then everything would be fine. The Master would sober back up and be back on track, and she'd make friends again, more than she had before she was imprisoned and lost them all.
The older man fretted as he heard another bottle shatter in the upstairs. It had been too quiet for long enough that he thought he might need to go look to see if the woman had passed out finally enough that he could get into the room and tuck her into bed finally. Sighing he sat back down in the butler pantry and went back to polishing silver.
Upstairs, Kaczor was gone, face tear stained, and hair tangled from where she had neglected herself the past two days. Not long enough for her to look like she had coming out of the prison, not long enough to lose sight of who she was, but she was getting close to it, close enough that she never felt the cold tendrils slide along her brain, to offer her succor against the pain that felt so overwhelming that it would swallow her whole and never let her free again. Every time she started to feel the pain creep back in, she drank. And then threw the empty bottle, hollow, empty eyes watching the glass shatter in the fire place.
At some point, she had cut her hand on one of the bottles, trying to toss the shards into the fire place, but she didn't feel it. Didn't feel the steady roll of blood down her arm as she sat in her armchair, glaring at the fire. Didn't feel cold because she had enough alcohol in her system to keep her warm. What she did feel though, was her stomach start to turn, and she remembered how badly Momma had fussed at her, in her prime days, when she had vomited all over her room. So she went to the bathroom, and crawled into the tub.
Easier to clean up, Momma had said that. And Momma would come tell her to stop being dumb over someone who didn't love her, wouldn't she? Would come and tell her to stop crying and to let Momma take care of her. Kaczor couldn't help it, when she started to cry this time, curled into a fetal position in the tub, sobbing. She had nothing now. She had lost.. everything, and now even her wife, and probably her daughter. She had nothing. Nothing. Nothing, she told herself as she looked at the slice in her hand, still not feeling it, so she dug her fingers into the cut, trying to feel a pain that wasn't the pain in her heart. Any pain had to be better than the pain that wracked her chest.
She finally felt a faint sting, but not enough to take away what was eating at her heart.
I could make it go away, so easily.
Shut up.
You've lost it all, all your friends, all your family, your wife. You have nothing, let me out to play and I'll get it all back for you, you know I can.
Shut up.
This is just a courtesy you know, at this point, I can take you any time I want.
Novella had time, before her next mission event, to stop in at the townhouse. Sari had written to her a few days ago, fretting over Kaczor's health. She'd slipped into the garden, first, taking in all of the changes that they'd made over the months of her seclusion.
Then, she slipped in through the kitchen door, hair carefully pinned back by a bright red scarf. Benson? Did you take an axe to the cherry yet? She inquired, as she studied the old man. If you haven't, bring one in.
She was here to collect her things, after seeing that Kaczor was okay. She'd not even dropped off the paperwork to annul the marriage, yet. She didn't want the guilt that would come from doing it, if her ex-wife wasn't okay.
The old man moved to do as she said, quietly exchanging pleasantries with her. And then he led her upstairs. They tried the doors, first.
And then she gave the quiet order, to bring the door down. Stepping back, hands clasped in front of herself, she watched. She waited. Calculating, planning...
The stink from the room made her lips curl, and she schooled her features as she entered. Stepping over broken glass, empty bottles, frowning at the sight of blood droplets dripped across the floor.
Benson, go and get Sari. There's blood on the floor, she instructed the old man softly, waiting until he was gone to approach the bathroom.
She rapped her knuckles on the door frame. Kaczor?
I got in the tub Momma, so I wouldn't make a mess.. Kaczor quietly sobbed as she pushed a bloody hand through dirty tresses.
I said shut up! She'd hiss suddenly, sniffling loudly as she turned the small bottle up, taking a deep drink of the lyrium laced alcohol. I won't tell him yes this time, Momma. She took another drink, and then tried to slide the now empty bottle over the side of the tub to let it clatter to the floor. It's be so easy to say yes though..
Kaczor didn;t even look up at who knocked on the door frame and she was far to drunk to recognize that her wife was actually there, empty, sunken eyes finally rolling up to the figure there. This one hurts so much worse than he did, Momma. Her hands angrily swiped at her tears, clearing her vision enough to see who it was, realizing it wasn't Sari come to coddle her, like she needed to be. No, it was Ella.
Ella was here.
Ella was seeing her pain.
Ella was here to make her sign papers that meant Ella had given up on them.
Ella was going to go away and never come back.
The word was whispered softly, louder than a bomb, a last whimper to take away what would surely kill her this time, Yes.
The being that rose from the tub, and pulled Kaczor's body up to it's full six feet wasn't the woman that had built a life around being a wife and a mother. No, the malicious grin that settled across Kaczor's handsome features was too wide, the glint of contempt in her eyes was too sober for the amount of alcohol that had to be flooding the mage's system.
Kaczor was in the tub, unshaven, dirty. And Ella stood in the doorway, staring at her spouse, in silence. The Tilani Lord was mumbling about her mother, how she'd tried not to make a mess.
Kaczor... Sari wrote me, she was worried. Ella began, but it didn't seem like her wife was listening to her. She was interrupted, when the other woman whispered 'yes'.
Brows furrowing in a frown, Ella stared at her wife's form, as she exited the tub. Her eyes were clear, now, no longer glazed with her alcohol abuse. That grin was... malignant. But Ella continued, Benson and Sari asked me to check...
In the back of her mind, Isseli was struggling against the seal that Malachai had put down. It was weaker, now, but for the moment it still held in place.
Novella tilted her head back, to study her... spouse. I wanted to discuss.... She'd been planning to offer a compromise; they would start over without the divorce, for a year. And if, in a year's time, Ella still didn't love the other woman, they'd go their separate ways. It seemed fair.
Though one might argue that the way Ella was feeling, her stomach twisted in a knot, at the sight of the woman in the tub... Well, one might argue that was love. You're bleeding, she murmured, reaching out to try and grab the injured hand, to examine the cut amongst the filth.
Ah Novella, the cause of this meat's distress, I should have known. Orion let the hand be grabbed, a fine brow arching slightly, the corner of the demon's mouth raising slightly. Are we? I hadn't noticed. Too busy getting this one to go down for a little nap, long enough for me to take care of this fine mess she seems to have gotten herself into. Or is it he again? Honestly they change their mind so often it seems rather pointless to keep track!
Orion stepped fully from the tub now, moving to turn Novella into the room, so that there would be no bolting away, all done rather seamlessly as the woman tried to show concern for the wound in his host's hand. Honestly, it was rather tiresome, every time Kaczor got a broken heart, he had to come and build the mage back into shape. True, he had let the woman experience the entirety of her incarceration and torture because he found it funny, but the body had never been truly in danger. Right now? All these messy emotions and stupid ideas, well, that could potentially damage his host, and he didn't want to go wait around for someone pretty enough to catch a ride in again.
Once sufficiently turned, Orion kicked the door closed behind him, What did you say you came here to discuss, mm pet? I don't think you got that out fully. What ever it is can wait, he started to walk them back towards the wall, using his size to try and cow Ella into moving. The intent was most definitely to intimidate, even if the body didn't quite match the personality any more. There's more fun things we could be doing right now, you know? Like figuring out why exactly this one loves you so much, you don't seem like much, and you've certainly made her wish her life was over, so why,
are you...
so...
special?
Orion drawled on, uninjured hand curling into a fist, even as it was apparent that he couldn't actually swing the punch he wanted to, something, or someone, was stopping him at the moment. The host, it seemed, didn't like the idea of beating the woman, pity. She would look lovely with purple bruises flowering up under that pretty skin of hers, he thought, even as Kaczor clawed at him to let her back in charge. Fat chance, pretty, you let me have the reigns because you weren't brave enough to face a woman, sit back and let me handle this like I did the last time, Orion decided the whole thing was almost no longer worth the effort, he was already bored, and none of this was stroking his ego like the last time he had taken control.
Novella's eyes narrowed, a minuscule amount. Not noticeable, if her wife wasn't paying close attention. She was quiet, as she let herself be backed into a corner. As the demon insulted her, she'd just tilt her head. And when it raised a hand, her lips curled into a grin.
Do you want to scare me? You'll have to try a lot harder, unfortunately. She leaned against the wall they'd backed her against, dark eyes flickering to the ceiling. Hitting me won't do you any good, pet.
And without warning, Novella moved—disappeared into a corner of shadows, only to come out behind of them. If they had tried to punch her, the only thing they'd find under their fist was the bathroom wall.
A firm kick would upset their balance, and if she was lucky, bring them to their knees. She'd lean in, the palm of her hand pressed to one shoulder, shoving them forward, attempting to press their forehead against the wall. A common pose she had done with many persons before.
Let's make a deal. Unless you're scared of little, old me.
Orion had spent more than enough time watching the woman from Kaczor's eyes, so the tell had been easy to pick up on for him -- the meat may not have noticed it, he knew she failed to recognize it so many times before, but he hadn't anticipated the sudden vanishing act -- annoying, but, it was the kick to the knees that had him laughing.
Down he went, but when she tried to press him into the wall, he held upright there in place, head rolling back, a slight pout on his handsome lips, You could have asked if you needed a good tongue lashing, pet, I would have gladly went to my knees to have a meal of that cunt of yours. That I agree with the woman on, we both like that part of you, Orion licked his lips, and then swallowed exaggeratedly. She's never let me taste you, you know.
He reached a hand up to the one on his shoulder, slowly enough that Ella would be able to pull away if she wanted. What's your little deal, pet? Try and make it a good one, I'm growing bored of this droll little chat.
Novella's lips curved, as he resisted. Stayed put, tipping his head back to gaze at her. Aw, really? I taste delicious. She hated the arrogance of the demon, and she'd exhale against their ear with a murmured hum, Perhaps you're not as good with your tongue.
It reached for her hand, and she hummed, ignoring it. You and I. A game of chess. If I win, you fuck off until I'm done with Kaczor. She'd let it declare what it wanted if it won.
She could already hear her father cursing her out; another deal with another demon. Her own demon bristled, against a weakening seal. Isseli didn't appreciate being locked up tight, separated from her host.
I know, I never participated but that doesn't mean I've not been privy to just how much the woman enjoys it. The grin that spread across that lovely face was a bit too wide, And I've never had a complaint yet. Orion finally stood from where the smaller woman had dropped him to his knees and sighed, loudly, the most long suffering sigh that had ever come from Kaczor's body.
Bor-ing. Here, have her, she's sitting here saying she'll "make sure I never get another day out in the sun again", but we all know with the number you did on her confidence with this whole to-do that I can come out and play any time I like. Ta, pet, until next time. It took a few seconds, but the change was noticeable, shoulders rolling inward on herself, broken, but not nearly as broken as she had been when she had been released from the prison.
I.. Kaczor's voice stuck in her throat. She didn't know what to say at that point, so she just looked to the counter, so she wouldn't have to meet her wife's eyes. Meet the fount of my confidence. Can't have a demon like that along for the ride and not have some of that charisma rub off on you.
Novella schooled her features, as the demon relented his control. She watched, the woman in front of her seemed small, though not as badly as when she'd come home from prison. Mmm. It's quite confident. She stated, moving past Kaczor to run water into the sink, pulling the woman's injured hand under the water.
Benson took an axe to the door. She stated, as she cleaned the woman's hand, carefully. You'll have to get that repaired. Sari should be here, soon. She glanced to the tub, and nudged Kaczor towards the door.
Let's go up a level. We'll get you cleaned up, she paused to claim a razor, the shaving cream bar and bowl, and a change of clothing for the other woman.
He'd been quiet for so long I thought he was.. just gone. Dumb, I know. I know better, he waits until I cant face something myself, says he'll take care if it. Prides himself on making me say yes to him. She watched Ella pull her hand under the water and she gently goes to take her hand back, trhing not to wince at the contact but failing. She let her good hand roam across the counter, finding a towel to wrap around it, even as the drunkenness crept back through her. ... I can do it, Novella.
She moved automatically, methodically as Orion slipped away completely, leaving her alone in her mind once again, wrapping the towel over and over, glossy eyes looking over at the door that showed a jagged edge where the door knob had once been. I see. before the letters, she would have thrown a flippant remark about money, and replacing it, now she was too tired to even try and summon up the persona that was Kaczor, the play-girl, the heir to the family.
Why are you here? She finally looked over at the woman, her gaze showing the hurt there, even as much as she was trying to hide it. After all, the letters had plainly stated she was annulling the marriage, why did she need a signature, that was the only reason sad, drunken Kaczor could come up with. And the pain was starting to creep back in, the heart break, the dull stabbing pain that made her hug her injured hand gently to her chest.
You're drunk. Her reply was tart, disappointed. That confident facade that she'd come to enjoy seemed just as fake as the basis for their marriage. Especially after meeting the demon. Pride.
Her nostrils flared, and she slipped past Kaczor, into the hallway, abandoning the change of clothes and other gathered items on a table. I won't talk to you until you clean yourself up. And if you won't let me help you, you'll find me downstairs.
She could hear footsteps behind of her, and glanced over her shoulder to the old woman, only for a moment. I'll wait for an hour. If you're not downstairs by then, I'll assume you've no interest in a compromise.
Novella glanced over her shoulder to her spouse, before she slipped downstairs, to make herself at home on the living room couch.
Oh no, really? I hadn't noticed, what with my wife giving up on our marriage completely. She took a deep breath fighting the tears that were threatening her yet again. I don't want to negotiate while drunk, as you so eloquently point out. And you won't want that either in the future, need everything iron clad and clean after all. Not all that bravado was the demon after all, only that Kaczor knew all too well that too many words could come back later in a fight.
She huffed as she squeezed her injured hand using it to try and sober herself up through pain. Sari, help Novella with what ever she needs. Send Benson up, and send for my lawyer.
She turned to head up the stairs, not bothering to look back.
Thirty minutes later, her hair cut back to her chin, and pulled back in a slicked tail, the tresses having been so tangled they could not be saved, her hand bandaged until a healer could be sent for, Benson opened the doors to the sitting room, and Kaczor swept in, all sunken, red eyes, and swallowed cheeks from days of drinking and not sleeping. The butler whispered an estimate of the lawyer arriving to her as she nodded once, as he handed her another refreshing drought to help chase the drunkenness away.
Little chance of that, she had been guzzling lyrium laced alcohol that burned blue when lit on fire like it had been water. And she wasn't the functional teen she had been several years ago. She didn't say anything as she came into the room, instead she went to the side board and poured herself two fingers of the whisky there, into a crystal tumbler. Might as well stay drunk, She thought bitterly to herself. Drunk at least was better than upset.
Sari would find that the missus needed nothing. She simply seated herself in the sitting room, and plucked a book from the shelf, reading. Silence. She wouldn't answer any questions. Nor would she explain what she was doing back in the townhome.
And by the time Kaczor joined them, Sari had sat down next to Novella and was quietly pleading with her to talk to her. But Ella's face was careful, neutral. And she stayed silent. She didn't try to explain they wouldn't need a lawyer; because she did want her terms put down on paper and made legal. Even if it was a compromise.
She took note of Kaczor, how her hair had been cut. She didn't speak, simply watching the other woman, pour herself more drink, pretending to read the vaguely philosophical book that she'd picked up off the shelf.
When she heard the lawyer arrive, she snapped the book she'd been reading shut, and straightened in her seat.
Kaczor sank into one of the chairs by the front picture window, mind blank, and eyes so glossy that it could be argued that she wasn't even aware of what was happening around her. Dissociate, might be a good way to put it, tired was another. She hadn't bothered with any cosmetics, and the wear of the past three months showed on her face, and her now clean hair. Signs of age had creeped into her face, and her hair had started to go white in large patches, the dirt had hid that until she had been washed.
Three months ago, Kaczor had held her wife's lifeless body in her arms, trying to bring her back to life. Had been removed from her wife, her brother in law had taken her child, and even before that, her own wife had sent her to prison, removing her from her social circles and her family. By all means, Kaczor should be furious. Novella had taken everything from her, had isolated her from everything she had known and been. Should be. Instead, she was just tired, tired and broken inside once again. And she knew what was about to happen, unfortunately. The non-disclosure agreement, the abandoning of the claim on the name, making Annie an unclaimed bastard and put up for adoption, everything her family would want to free her up to marry someone else and establish a new heir. Then there would be the divestiture of money, trusts for Annie and Ella both to be paid out in tidy monthly sums, the splitting of jointly held properties, and then the release of their owned slaves would be the last paper to sign.
She didn't even flinch when Ella slammed her book closed, didn't show signs of even being aware when the lawyer stepped into the room to give the "Tilani Special", after all, her family hadn't ever been too "clean" when it came to messy breakups, her aunt and mother both set those examples. She didn't drink from the glass either, she just rolled the liquid around in the cup.
Lord and Lady Tilani, well.. I. Lady Valentius, I'll assume now.. I've brought the appropriate papers. Kaczor's lawyer was an elderly gentleman, almost grandfatherly as he came into the room, his robes immaculate, even if they were a little dated.
Wait in the hall, I need a word with Lady Valentius before we start.
It was the first sign Kaczor made of even being alive the past twenty minutes.
