lord treavor pendleton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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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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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?"
no subject
...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?"