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kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pm
loyalless) wrote in kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pmOPEN RP POST
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loyalless) wrote in kingdomsofrain2019-05-24 05:05 pm
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An addict's hit torn abruptly away. A patient with his wounds flayed open, seeping, untreated and unnumbed and Enri's head is buzzing. His long form drawn into a ball, fetal on the bed where (not Daddy) Lydia sent him. (Shameful. Shame like wet piss-stained jeans like the sour taste of vomit in his throat like a simple equation solved incorrectly before the class. Metallic. Ammonia-scented.) She knows exactly what he's been doing and now his father knows and his uncles will know and the worst of it is he wants it. He wants more. He wants it for the rest of his life, the things Darius does to him.
Buzzing head, buzzing form -
He hears them speaking in the other room, hears maybe a third definitely a third voice maybe a fourth, he can't tell at range the difference in his uncle's voice from his father's. But count them, assume it's his parents, assume it's Alice and Custis with them. (Treavor, maybe, though Treavor - an inane thought - has been markedly absent throughout this affair as though he doesn't want to get involved in any kind of drama.) (Alice might be doing that.)
(And. And also.
Who gives a flying fuck.) (He needs Daddy. Oh, he needs Daddy. He shivers, his eyes closing and lips pressing firm, feverish - Daddy tried to get to him. He heard him shouting.) (Daddy wants to keep him. Daddy said stay.) (Bad Puppy.) Bad Puppy.
Disloyal. He's vibrating with it, with the buzz in his head and -
His phone. Is vibrating. In his pocket.
He scrambles fast for it because it's Darius, of course it's Darius. He curls up to a tighter ball and crams the phone to his ear, only shuddering breaths evidencing that it's him on the other end of the line, listening. Hungry for the word of god.
I'm here.
Relief so severe it's painful. Yesterday, Darius compelled him with only words to howl in rapture, and today, Darius knows how to comfort him. Daddy's coming for you.
Darius won't abandon him. Darius didn't desert him. And he's coming to fight the monsters.
(Deeply, beneath advancing fog, Enri wonders: am I worth this? All this fucking chaos, and he still wants me?)
The monsters aren't monsters; they're his fucking parents. (He can't tell. He can't say that.)
He can't let Darius do this.
Softly, he starts to cry; he presses his free hand to his forehead, rushed with frustration, exhaustion, need taking root like addiction. (He doesn't desire; this runs so much deeper, this feels more a nightmare than any days-ignored erection. This is pure, his mind and soul screaming for Darius.) (Can his god hear him?)
Enri gathers himself enough to speak, his voice barely audible. "I can't talk."
And a miserable whisper: "Please don't leave me."
He can keep the phone sandwiched between the pillow and his head, let Darius be a secret voice in his ear. Until they come back here, and take it all away.
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What’s different in this instance: a feeling of rooted investment. (As if something beyond himself here matters.) Intention beyond a wholly self-serving line of purpose. A wish, perhaps (a wish, certainly) to ease the boy for the boy’s own sake.
He doesn’t think about this. His focus is on the agitation in Enri’s voice and the sound of crying. (They took his Enri away. They left his Enri to crumble. Bastards, absolute bastards. What the fuck are they trying to prove.
Darius has half a mind to contact Colling. He doesn’t like the asshole (how much the asshole purports to comprehend; how much the asshole does clearly understand), but at least Colling had seemed prepared to accept the inevitability of Enri’s place with Darius. Fucking bastard should have spoken with his fucking brothers-in-law-to-be. Fucking bastard could have taken steps to fucking prevent this.
The poor boy. Poor Enri. He didn’t ask for this.
Fucking Pendletons, whittling away their week.)
His voice holds level when he speaks, authoritative and traced still with that warmth, that quiet offering of comfort. "I won't leave you.
"Breathe, Enri. In. Out.
"Close your eyes. Can you feel Daddy's hand at your cheek? Try to know it, Puppy. Put a hand to your cheek. Do it for Daddy, hm?”
A space of pause, a space to let Enri move if he can, if h will, and then, "You're a good boy, Enri. A good Puppy.” And. “I’m not upset. Not with you.
"I want you to breathe, Enri.”
There’s something else. Something more to add, a contingency Darius doesn’t typically address. "If they interrupt us, I need you to breathe. Daddy knows you'll make good decisions. I won't let you wear yourself out.”
Through the frosted glass, he watches figures trail in and out of the room. Tracks the sounds of drills, of removal, of voices bandied over the work. Darius’s brow furrows, though he keeps his voice clear of frustration. “If they interrupt us again, I need you to know I’m not mad. Daddy isn’t mad at you, Puppy. You’ve done everything right. You can speak with them, and know Daddy isn’t angry. You can speak with them, and know that it’s what Daddy wants. I need you to know that I understand.
“And if they try to cut us off again, I need you to trust me: everything will be well.
"Breathe, Enri.
"Do you understand? You needn't speak; only breathe out, if that’s better. Only give me some sound that you’ve heard, hm? I’m here, Puppy. And whatever they try, I’m going to bring you back.”
no subject
He eases through, as well, when Darius tells him there'll be no anger. He won't, Enri believes, be disappointed in his Puppy. (Darius said he's a good Puppy, and Darius is god, and god's word is everything.)
He can hear them speaking in the other room, not bothering this time to whisper. He can hear Alice's calm, and Lydia's pensive interjections. He can hear someone's snarling outrage.
They don't matter. None of that matters, because Darius is inevitable. Darius is going to bring him back, and he can stay and stay and stay just like he was told. In Daddy's bed, ravaged and raptured and -
Loved.
Oh, he feels loved.
His entire focus is on the phone and the voice pouring poison into him (love) (comfort) (approval), and so Enri doesn't notice when the talking abates in the other room. He doesn't notice Alice's approach until Alice is a few feet away, a blur in his peripheral vision.
Enri goes still and tense, his eyes flickering guiltily to his uncle-to-be (who is not, he realizes inanely, that much older than himself.) There's no way Alice doesn't see the phone.
Darius is asking for some sound from him to indicate he understands, but he can't. Move. Speak. Breathe. Only feel as though he's at the bottom of a pit, and the last lifeline is being drawn up out of reach. Alice is going to take the phone, he fucking knows it -
Alice crouches in front of him, one hand curled on the bed for balance. Alice scrutinizes him (gently, it feels gentle and he fucking hates it, he hates Alice, he hates all of them (that's not true) (he wishes it was true.))
"Enri, may I borrow your phone?" His voice sounds careful, and carefully neutral. Even. Calm. R...espectful? Enri stirs and recoils a little, a note of refusal jarring in his throat, but Alice only lifts his hand and gestures settle, settle or it's okay (it's not okay nothing is okay.) "I'd like to speak with Darius for a moment. I'll give it, and Darius, right back to you."
He should -
He should ask Daddy. Darius. He should ask permission, or guidance. But he can't find words, and - Darius did say he trusts him to make good decisions. And he knows that Alice has been looking out for him, sort of.
He thinks Treavor wouldn't trust Alice, wouldn't marry Alice, if he was a liar.
Slowly, he slides the phone out from under his head and barely (reluctantly) offers it over. Alice doesn't snatch. It's almost as though he's showing he won't hang up, the way he's holding the phone so delicately.
(His caution irks Enri. His care, his dedication to preserving...something. He's annoyed.
He's also (a little) grateful.)
And Alice speaks into the receiver with the same cautious tone. His eyes linger on Enri's, and Enri thinks he sees something akin to concern. "Darius. Let's keep this short so I can give the phone back to Enri. I told him that's what I'm going to do, and he's trusting me a lot right now."
Enri realizes something, dawning comprehension: Alice is talking more to him than, or just as much to him as, Darius.
"I'm sorry to you both. Morgan has been out of reach all week. I intended to catch him as soon as the plane landed, but I had to deal with a personal matter that trumps this one, I'm sorry to say. Deforest - You know. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. I'm going to handle this here. If it's all right with both of you, while I'm discussing this situation with Morgan, Enri is going to rest for an hour. Maybe let Lydia treat these bites."
And.
"It would help to know you think that's a good idea."
no subject
He is angry. Strung with self-righteous bristling, because he and Enri have been separated again (less violently, this time) (with a promise of reunion, this time), and because Enri isn't well, because Enri didn't answer and wasn't given the chance to answer.
And there's that fucking self-righteous (not-so-self-righteous, just now) voice. As if Colling's fucking apology means a fucking thing. (Strangely. Irksomely. The fuck seems almost, possibly in earnest.) As if it matters that Colling's thinks he can reason with a goddamn Pendleton. And, ha, on good fucking terms with the brute of the hour, is he? (Fucking Morgan. Darius'd like to maul the bastard's face. Wouldn't be wise. Wouldn't end well, likely. But fuck's name, there'd be satisfaction in it.)
It's fucking bullshit.
...It is, and it isn't.
Because this could be - Colling's intervention could be - useful. If Colling can talk even an ounce of sense into the Pendlefucks, it could go a long way. Not that either of them - particularly fucking Morgan - deserve a goddamn conversation. Bastards deserve to be rent in pieces for taking Enri away.
Again: The notion isn't productive, or likely to lead toward an especially desirable end. The notion is - fucking alas, fucking unfortunately - unwise.
...Speaking of unwise. What the fuck did Deforest get up to this time? Follow the likely trail: something to do with the most lackluster Pendleton. The little shitstirrer'd be hard-pressed to get under Colling's skin, but damned if hasn't had a decades-old hard-on for antagonizing Treavor.
Not that it matters to Darius. Not that he gives a shit what any of these Pendletons do, so long as they leave his Enri alone.
The point to keep hold of: Colling isn't ranting unreasonable. Enri is nearby - Colling seems to be speaking partly for Enri's sake - and the phone might be returned to him shortly. Better in this case to cooperate; better not to delay the phone's return.
So. Entertain this conversation. Listen, consider, and - voice unyielding and uncontentious - respond. (Don't bend to the itching urge to snap wry at Colling. Don't take this as a moment to wave the fucker's error in his face. Be cooperative. (Think about Enri.) Think about seeking solutions.)
"An hour." A weighted silence as he gives himself another moment to consider, and then— "If Enri is willing.
"After what he's been put through, I don't doubt that he could use the rest." After what he's been put through by the Pendletons and, yes, after a long and fruitful night with precious little sleep. "I support the hour's respite, but I won't tell him to remain if he feels unwell. I'll come for Enri if he insists.
"Tell him, Colling: he has a choice.
"And.
"If he stays. I need you to guarantee that in one hour, he'll return to me. No fucking fight. No further questions."
no subject
He hears.
If Enri is willing. (Darius, taking into account Enri's needs.) (Darius called here, not ten minutes after Enri was yanked from him.)
Darius is weighing the boy's needs against his own wants, and there's no grudging tone to be found. He says he'll come here not because he wants to, but if Enri needs him. These aren't the words of a man who has been the subject of monetary settlements over unspeakable abuses.
In fact - now that Alice looks, the bites he can see look superficial. And Lydia said there were bruises at Darius's throat. Alice knows one thing about Darius: the other man roused at the implication of having a hand at his throat just like that. Put it together. Those weren't unwelcome wounds, and. And if Enri was enduring pain he didn't want, it seems he could have easily handled Darius. (Is that a wise conclusion, a safe one?) (It's the probable conclusion.)
"I'm going to hand the phone back to him so you can tell him yourself." Meaning, I'm trusting you to actually tell him all that.
Meaning, I'm keeping my word.
Meaning, It's better, coming from you.
"I'll -" A heavy exhale through his nose. It's been a long fucking day and it's still barely noon. "I guarantee that I'll defend Enri's autonomy. From you and from them, Darius. If he wants to come back to you in an hour, then I'll help however I can. I'm not going to promise anything else without knowing what he wants. Someone here needs to think about th-"
He stops sharply, abrupt and thoughtful, his eyes on Enri, whose hand is out for the phone already.
He heard, a moment ago, I need you to guarantee, and the words sink in wholly now.
That isn't the Darius Scarlett he knows. He would have said, Guarantee in on hour... or I'll have your guarantee, or something, something that conveyed his own rightful entitlement. His sovereignty, his manifest destiny. That's who Darius is.
Darius might as well be pleading for them to permit Enri to return.
And Alice thinks, Oh, Darius, you're in deep, aren't you? (Is this a game Darius can end in a week?) (Is this a game that won't destroy Enri?) (He'd like to reach out a hand and smooth back the boy's hair, but he suspects that would be the worst possible idea.) (This poor fucking kid.)
(...Maybe. Maybe poor Darius, too.)
(Darius, who might be in real fucking deep, is putting Enri first.)
"Sorry. Sorry. That was. Fucking uncalled for, and unfair of me. I - Yeah. I'm -" A breath. "Talk to Enri. I'll go...try to handle the clusterfuck."
Enri practically snatches the phone from him, too fixated on cramming it to his ear to give any sort of acknowledgement that Alice kept his word. As he straightens and turns to leave, he hears (and wishes he hadn't heard) Enri choke out, "Daddy."
He closes the door behind him. Christ.
no subject
Of course he doesn't fucking like it.
It's fucking unconscionable.
All of this anger - this agitation (this discomfort) - and nowhere to direct it. At some point he sits, because he has to do something, because if he stands he's half an impulse away from exiting the room and strangling the shit-spitting bastard, never mind the consequences or who fucking sees. It'd spell the end of this problem.
(It'd keep Enri protected.)
(It'd keep everything in line.)
He shouldn't do that. Death can't be the answer here; there'd be more trouble to follow. He needs to— Clear his senses. He wants to reach for Lydia, gesture for Lydia, but the problem's impacted her too, she's seen something, she's communicating something. She called the boy 'Puppy.' (Why.) She doesn't like this, either. The situation and all the world's a fucking mess, and there can be no ease for anyone until a solution's found.
He sits, and he seethes, letting Custis speak anger for the both of them. Trying to heed Lydia and hearing, vaguely, Alice's interjections, but what Morgan remembers is Enri snarling, and Enri fighting, and Enri strange. (There's a reason. Lydia knows the reason. Morgan can't calm himself enough to understand, and every glance at the bedroom door sparks his vision red again.)
Alice enters Enri's room to talk, to check on the boy, and the sound of Alice through the door incites him again - this shouldn't be happening, none of this should fucking be happening - and Morgan stands abruptly. Kicks a table, heavy fucking thing that thuds out of place and leaves his foot distantly aching, then stalks to the next room. Fingers flexing, fist clenching. Not looking at Lydia, but setting his shoulders to suggest an attempt at self-control, at removing himself in order to guard against further damage.
He paces. He paces. And when Alice emerges, he moves like a shot to stand in the doorway, eyes focused, seeking signs of what transpired.
"Well?"
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...Lydia-ness.
He doesn't understand, and Lydia's efforts at explanation keep falling lame and uncomfortable. (He's never seen her like this. It's strange, to know there's something she can't rise to. It's strange, and beyond his comprehension.) (She said something about bruises on Darius's throat, of course. And she said, weakly, that it ought to be considered, but the statement came with a question mark at the end, and was quickly trampled by her brother-in-law.)
(What the fuck is going on, is what Alice would like to know. All this uproar over some cousin from Iowa?)
He approaches Morgan, then halts abruptly, staring at his (mentor) (somewhat-idol) brother-in-law-to-be. There's something familiar about the way the other man looks, and it's not because he has a twin, and it's not because Alice has worked closely with Morgan for almost a year.
That's the same fucking look Enri just gave him before the kid snatched the phone.
And come to think of it.
Come to think of it.
His head turns, and from the corner of his eye he takes in the other two in the room, and the door leading to the bedroom. He opens his mouth as though he means to speak. (Custis said he's older than his father. Not he's old enough to be his father.) He closes his mouth and fixes Morgan with a look, his head cocked, lips pressed thin as he exhales through his nose.
Fuck's sake, Morgan.
And.
Tell me this isn't what I think it is.
He doesn't think that's going to happen.
Instead of waiting for a miracle, he gestures vaguely toward the room behind the other man - let's talk in there - and if Morgan doesn't immediately go he slides past to let himself in, then waits with his hands crammed in his pockets until he hears Lydia herding Custis out.
(Not a new trick. Her idea, unspoken months ago: divide and conquer. They can't egg one another on this way.)
And, after a moment, he offers what clarity he can. "You and Lydia have the woods, together. He has - whatever he has with Darius."
And then, he raises his eyes from his examination of an end table, and fixes them on Morgan. Ventures softly, "Like father, like son?"