Who: Edgar + Charles, + Elena and Nate. What: Sorrow event gets out of the hand. Where: Around the city and then at casa de Fisher. When: During the sorrow event! Warnings: Charles' death count goes up.
[ It's late at night when he leaves his apartment-- almost like he's sneaking out, even though there's no one to ask him where he's going, to check in on him. That's a good thing. He's on his way to the clinic, there shouldn't be many people there late at night, if anyone-- makes it easier to take what he'll need.
He has regrets, and they are many, and there is only one thing that he can do to make up for everything.
Of course, this plan is about to get a bit...derailed, soon. ]
[Things like 'guilt' and 'regret' were no strangers to Edgar. In fact, they were constantly present within the back of his mind, always reminding him of what and who really was. It's not like the conscience was completely alien concept to others in his kind but as far Edgar knew no one out of his family experienced like him. His so called 'father' warned him about it ages ago -- that his age and the ancient blood running in his body makes him feel differently than others. Remembering and feeling remorse like a human, always looking back and wishing to be something else.
And just like everyone he had learned how to live with the guilt of taking countless lives -- it's all matter of survival. But rather than from his poor victims Edgar bore much greater guilt for all of those who he had failed to protect. Those who he's loved in the past. There's nothing he can do for Marybelle anymore and there is no place where he could follow her (if there was he'd definitely go there) but still, despite knowing all that he couldn't feel peace within himself.
And of course that was just what the god's magic had managed to dig up.
He's out in the city and going through the various abandoned shops. He's not looking for anything specific, it's not like he requires much equipment in his daily life, but it does please him when he comes across an old and used deck of tarot cards. Guess he'll have something to do to entertain himself for a while.
Just as he's exiting the shop he spots a familiar looking young man walking ahead of him on the street.]
Charles. [He calls out softly.] I didn't think you'd be here.
[Edgar steps out on the street, facing Charles' direction. His expression remains soft even if little distant as he pockets the cards away.
Charles had always been more or less cryptic and deflecting with his answers. At times his attempts to avoid his anxiety varied between boring and frustrating, nothing that Edgar cared to bother with. But now? Maybe it was the memories of all people he couldn't protect or help that makes him react differently. Right now he's concerned.]
[ It's vague, but it's how he feels. He regrets everything, starting with being born. Everything stems from that.
He seems to realize that it's an unsatisfying answer. ]
Sorry. It's just...I didn't tell you before, but--
[ Charles almost pauses, then, cuts himself off from telling someone else the worst thing about himself, but finds that, more than anything, he wants to say it. ]
If I'd never been born, then things would be fine. If I can fix it now, then...
[ Trailing off. Then Mother would get better. She deserved the child she wanted. ]
Well, he can't say he expected hear that. Yet it comes as no surprise nor is anything that he hasn't heard before. The puzzle pieces fall right where they belong to, explaining quite lot of about Charles while still leaving questions of "why" in the air.
Only God knows the amount of suffering that the war brought to children and parents. And even before that children were made to be responsible for their family's sins. It's something that even Edgar has personal experience with. Charles might be different and untouched by the events of the war but there is still something very similar in the way he looks right now.
He's just like that small boy Edgar met in Germany not too long ago. Poor Eric Carr cried himself to sleep every night because of his mother's pain and prayed that angels would come to take him away. He was one of the people Edgar has made promises to, to save and protect once they're little bit older. There's nothing that he can do to help the kid now. But who knows, maybe he could help Charles.
With careful and soft steps he walks closer until they're standing face to face. His expression remains gentle and understanding as he looks up to the youth's eyes.]
What is it that you want, then? [He had came here to look for a solution after all, something that would help.] How would you fix it?
[Ah. It's just like he thought, then. Everything about Charles just now had been foreboding. The way he carries himself as if there was huge weight on his shoulders, pressure pushing him down. And the manner how his gaze was cast down, both alert yet not quite present either.
Edgar didn't like it.
The lives of humans as a whole didn't mean much to him. In order to survive he had to learn how to distance himself away from the mortals so that the remorse and pain wouldn't eat him up. He didn't care much for them just as none of them cared for him either. He was a monster and they were prey, simple as that.
But that still didn't mean he was unable to be moved by single person's fate. It's quite opposite actually. He and Charles might not be too close nor would he normally mind his problems but something about this was different. He was clearly hurting.]
You know you can't change the past, Charles. Even if you were to die nothing would change.
The window is left ajar. Probably out of humane carelessness and forgetfulness but to Edgar, tormented by guilt and agony, it seems almost like an invitation.
Please come in.
Without making a sound he pushes the window further open and lets himself in, moving smoothly like a cat that's returning back to its home after the nightly adventures. And it's not a coincidence that he's here, in this house knowing exactly where to put his feet and what to do in order to avoid causing a sound. He's never been here before but he watched this house before. He knows exactly who lives in here and that he won't be welcomed guest. Yet, he's drawn to this place like a moth to a fire. His hands are cold -- just like Charles' body was on his arms --, mind clouded and heavy from the sorrow and he seeks out the warmth of love that resides within the couple living here.
Letting the wind in he looks at the dark apartment, watching the small signs of family and love that surrounds the room with a soft eyes. In the end it's nothing special but all the same time it's reminding him that he doesn't belong in here. Hah, as if he really belonged anywhere. He knows it very well that he's trespassing, that he came to close taking away all of this -- replacing the warmth with cold sadness. Just like he's done countless times before.
Still, something within him earns to be part of this. But he doesn't dare to move to explore the other rooms in the apartment. It wouldn't be right. So he waits in the shadows, not touching anything near him. Time passes before he hears the first signs of life in the apartment: sound of carefree steps. Corners of his lips curl up into a longing smile as he sees a scar on man's neck.
He continues to wait, staying invisible in the shadow before stepping forward. The wind blows behind him, making his hair and cloak sway in the air -- catching the light from moon.
Sometimes, perfectly friendly people on the upper floor of a spire like to get a nice cross-breeze now and again, you know, just to keep the air circulating. Given the hour and the decent temperature outside neither Nate nor Elena - both of whom lived in New Orleans prior to this and know to take crisp night air as a blessing when it comes - therefore would not expect visitors, least of all crawling through the open sash.
They've already settled in for bed.
Wearing boxer shorts and a sleepy expression Nate pads away from the mattress and the warmth of another body to retrieve something as innocuous as a glass of water from the kitchen, feeling around in the dim light because he can't be assed to hit the switch. Nate is just turning away from the faucet, thirst-quenching beverage in hand, when a breeze rolls in and moves the hair of a figure that was definitely not standing there two seconds ago-
"Holy crap!"
He practically spasms, barely registering the voice, the words, only the barest sensation of water hitting his shins when he drops it and the glass shatters on the floor. Nate flails for the light switch, pointedly avoiding the tile in front of him in his bare feet.
The scream filled with fear and horror doesn't surprise Edgar. True, he had hoped that the man would be able to show same kind of courage and wits just like during their last encounter but he supposes this reaction is completely understandable, despite being little disappointing. In the past people hadn't made such loud noises when seeing him in the darkness.
Edgar takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as the glass shatters on the floor between them. Then, he takes slow step forward -- not to approach him but so that the light of moon surrounds him fully, making him more visible to the man.
His expression stays soft, sincere and almost wistful. "You seem to be doing fine," he eventually answers to him, countering the aggression with gentleness. He has every right to be mad, a small voice whispers in back of Edgar's mind. You hurt him so let him shout and scream.
Elena is mostly asleep and drifting towards completely when she she feels Nate shift beside her and get up, probably for some water or to go pee. There's a vague thought that she could roll over to face the other way so she can be the big spoon when he returns, but her limbs feel like logs and she probably won't even be aware of it when he lays back down beside her.
The arrival of a third party doesn't register at all.
Her husband's sudden shout sure as hell does. Elena sits bolt upright in bed, already grasping for a gun that isn't there, before jumping to her feet.
"Nate?!" Her first concern is that he's hurt himself somehow, because there's no reason anything or anyone dangerous should be in their apartment—but then the light goes on and she sees Edgar. "You—what the hell are you doing here?"
The words barely register. Nate is primarily concerned because not only has a stranger climbed into his place of residence, it's a stranger that nearly killed him. He manages to get his shit together in time to block the doorway to their bedroom, hands on the jamb: not just for the general safekeeping of the woman beyond the threshold, but the fact that he knows she's in bare feet and he doesn't want her stepping all over the glass he broke.
"That's a good goddamn question," he grits, unwilling to break eye contact with the thing across the room.
Edgar's head turns away from Nate to take a look at the third person barging into the room. Ah, here comes the wife. He had known about her for some time now. That they lived together and were married -- or that's what he believed the matching rings meant.
With his shoulders down and soft, defenseless posture he gives her a same gentle yet longing smile as he had given to Nate just a moment ago. It's really a pity, he had rather liked her company earlier. "I--" he begins to answer her question with a quiet voice but doesn't get far before he's interrupted by Nate's demanding voice, turning his attention right back at him
'Came back to finish the job?' That's ridiculous. If that was really his motive he wouldn't have waited for them to wake up. No, he'd attack both of them in their sleep and kill them without them even knowing. But that's not him, not anymore at least. Edgar had never taken joy in killing and only done it when needed, to stay alive or to protect others. It's both heartbreaking and funny that they see him as a ruthless monster.
Because despite his reasons, isn't that just what he is?
"I needed to see you," he repeats after a heavy silence, not moving a inch. His eyes linger around the neck area where he had done the biggest damage. "I wanted to know if you were still hurting. If I ---" he pauses again, not sure how to go on from there.
Then he turns to look back at Elena again, "I also wanted to see you."
She should probably feel a little groggier, but something about a home invader works better than ten cups of coffee. Elena frowns when Nate moves in front of the doorway, but holds back; unnecessary protective instinct or no, splitting his attention would be a bad move. She steps as close as she can, though, ready to back him up at a moment's notice.
Except she's not sure if this will come to a fight or not. Driving off a burglar, or whatever he is, seems like the logical next step, but Edgar isn't saying anything threatening. Just...creepy.
"You wanted to see us? Why?" She glares at him, wishing she could discern his true motive from a look, but there's nothing. "Nate, you know him?"
Not that she knows him well herself, but there should be a special bond that comes from a game of gin. Apparently there isn't.
Nate says through grit teeth, feeling Elena brush up against the back of his arm.
This close - and with considerably better lighting than there had been in that alley - it is both reaffirming and startling to see that the perpetrator is how he remembered. Slight, narrow, teenager-sized. A face of perpetual youthfulness, from sucking the life out of everybody else.
"It's not hurting anymore, thanks," comes the addition, dripping sarcasm. "But I didn't need a house call from Doctor Dracula."
"Hah," he lets out a quiet laughter and presses his gaze down on the carpet in front of him out of remorse, guilt weighting down on his shoulders. He's really funny one, isn't he. Normally he wouldn't have liked to hear jokes like that but now he can't help but find his quick and witty tongue amusing. Yet another thing he almost took away from this world.
"I didn't have a choice." Back then, when he had attacked Nate, Edgar had been so scared. Confused and frightened by the rules of this world and its people, hungry and hurt from poisonous dead blood that he had been sure he was about to die. Which, he might as well have if it weren't for Nate and Ivar. "I don't want you to hurt. That's why I'm here tonight."
And then he looks back up at the couple and takes a careful step forward, extending his arm out towards them with palm up as an invitation for them to take his hand. "If you come with me you won't hurt ever again. Please."
Elena frowns, seeing Edgar in an entirely new right. She's not about to signal to Nate that they should jump this kid, but she finds herself shifting her stance, making sure she's ready for whatever happens. If this is the person who attacked her husband, he's capable of much more than his appearance belies.
"I met him at the bar," she says to Nate. "He seemed normalish." As normal as anyone here might be here. She raises her chin, addressing Edgar directly now.
"What are you talking about? We're fine. You're the one who hurts him, and you need to leave."
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He's a wolf in disguise. (CHARLES)
but i thought he was a vampire??? (it's joke)
He has regrets, and they are many, and there is only one thing that he can do to make up for everything.
Of course, this plan is about to get a bit...derailed, soon. ]
no subject
And just like everyone he had learned how to live with the guilt of taking countless lives -- it's all matter of survival. But rather than from his poor victims Edgar bore much greater guilt for all of those who he had failed to protect. Those who he's loved in the past. There's nothing he can do for Marybelle anymore and there is no place where he could follow her (if there was he'd definitely go there) but still, despite knowing all that he couldn't feel peace within himself.
And of course that was just what the god's magic had managed to dig up.
He's out in the city and going through the various abandoned shops. He's not looking for anything specific, it's not like he requires much equipment in his daily life, but it does please him when he comes across an old and used deck of tarot cards. Guess he'll have something to do to entertain himself for a while.
Just as he's exiting the shop he spots a familiar looking young man walking ahead of him on the street.]
Charles. [He calls out softly.] I didn't think you'd be here.
no subject
Sometimes it helps to take a walk outside.
[ It feels like if he's questioned about it, he'll end up saying more than he should. He both wants Edgar to leave and doesn't want that. ]
no subject
Charles had always been more or less cryptic and deflecting with his answers. At times his attempts to avoid his anxiety varied between boring and frustrating, nothing that Edgar cared to bother with. But now? Maybe it was the memories of all people he couldn't protect or help that makes him react differently. Right now he's concerned.]
Help with what?
no subject
[ It's vague, but it's how he feels. He regrets everything, starting with being born. Everything stems from that.
He seems to realize that it's an unsatisfying answer. ]
Sorry. It's just...I didn't tell you before, but--
[ Charles almost pauses, then, cuts himself off from telling someone else the worst thing about himself, but finds that, more than anything, he wants to say it. ]
If I'd never been born, then things would be fine. If I can fix it now, then...
[ Trailing off. Then Mother would get better. She deserved the child she wanted. ]
no subject
Well, he can't say he expected hear that. Yet it comes as no surprise nor is anything that he hasn't heard before. The puzzle pieces fall right where they belong to, explaining quite lot of about Charles while still leaving questions of "why" in the air.
Only God knows the amount of suffering that the war brought to children and parents. And even before that children were made to be responsible for their family's sins. It's something that even Edgar has personal experience with. Charles might be different and untouched by the events of the war but there is still something very similar in the way he looks right now.
He's just like that small boy Edgar met in Germany not too long ago. Poor Eric Carr cried himself to sleep every night because of his mother's pain and prayed that angels would come to take him away. He was one of the people Edgar has made promises to, to save and protect once they're little bit older. There's nothing that he can do to help the kid now. But who knows, maybe he could help Charles.
With careful and soft steps he walks closer until they're standing face to face. His expression remains gentle and understanding as he looks up to the youth's eyes.]
What is it that you want, then? [He had came here to look for a solution after all, something that would help.] How would you fix it?
no subject
He tries to smile, but it feels like it falls short. ]
If I were dead...
[ It didn't help before, but he can hope for something permanent. ]
...maybe that would make things right.
no subject
Edgar didn't like it.
The lives of humans as a whole didn't mean much to him. In order to survive he had to learn how to distance himself away from the mortals so that the remorse and pain wouldn't eat him up. He didn't care much for them just as none of them cared for him either. He was a monster and they were prey, simple as that.
But that still didn't mean he was unable to be moved by single person's fate. It's quite opposite actually. He and Charles might not be too close nor would he normally mind his problems but something about this was different. He was clearly hurting.]
You know you can't change the past, Charles. Even if you were to die nothing would change.
no subject
[ He's wanted to, for a long time. He succeeded, but there was no way to tell if it did help. ]
no subject
How would it help? Your mother is not here, is she. You're not responsible for her in any way.
But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes. (NATE & ELENA)
Please come in.
Without making a sound he pushes the window further open and lets himself in, moving smoothly like a cat that's returning back to its home after the nightly adventures. And it's not a coincidence that he's here, in this house knowing exactly where to put his feet and what to do in order to avoid causing a sound. He's never been here before but he watched this house before. He knows exactly who lives in here and that he won't be welcomed guest. Yet, he's drawn to this place like a moth to a fire. His hands are cold -- just like Charles' body was on his arms --, mind clouded and heavy from the sorrow and he seeks out the warmth of love that resides within the couple living here.
Letting the wind in he looks at the dark apartment, watching the small signs of family and love that surrounds the room with a soft eyes. In the end it's nothing special but all the same time it's reminding him that he doesn't belong in here. Hah, as if he really belonged anywhere. He knows it very well that he's trespassing, that he came to close taking away all of this -- replacing the warmth with cold sadness. Just like he's done countless times before.
Still, something within him earns to be part of this. But he doesn't dare to move to explore the other rooms in the apartment. It wouldn't be right. So he waits in the shadows, not touching anything near him. Time passes before he hears the first signs of life in the apartment: sound of carefree steps. Corners of his lips curl up into a longing smile as he sees a scar on man's neck.
He continues to wait, staying invisible in the shadow before stepping forward. The wind blows behind him, making his hair and cloak sway in the air -- catching the light from moon.
"I wanted to see you."
no subject
They've already settled in for bed.
Wearing boxer shorts and a sleepy expression Nate pads away from the mattress and the warmth of another body to retrieve something as innocuous as a glass of water from the kitchen, feeling around in the dim light because he can't be assed to hit the switch. Nate is just turning away from the faucet, thirst-quenching beverage in hand, when a breeze rolls in and moves the hair of a figure that was definitely not standing there two seconds ago-
"Holy crap!"
He practically spasms, barely registering the voice, the words, only the barest sensation of water hitting his shins when he drops it and the glass shatters on the floor. Nate flails for the light switch, pointedly avoiding the tile in front of him in his bare feet.
"Get the f- get the Hell out!"
no subject
Edgar takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as the glass shatters on the floor between them. Then, he takes slow step forward -- not to approach him but so that the light of moon surrounds him fully, making him more visible to the man.
His expression stays soft, sincere and almost wistful. "You seem to be doing fine," he eventually answers to him, countering the aggression with gentleness. He has every right to be mad, a small voice whispers in back of Edgar's mind. You hurt him so let him shout and scream.
no subject
The arrival of a third party doesn't register at all.
Her husband's sudden shout sure as hell does. Elena sits bolt upright in bed, already grasping for a gun that isn't there, before jumping to her feet.
"Nate?!" Her first concern is that he's hurt himself somehow, because there's no reason anything or anyone dangerous should be in their apartment—but then the light goes on and she sees Edgar. "You—what the hell are you doing here?"
no subject
"That's a good goddamn question," he grits, unwilling to break eye contact with the thing across the room.
"What do you want? Came back to finish the job?"
no subject
With his shoulders down and soft, defenseless posture he gives her a same gentle yet longing smile as he had given to Nate just a moment ago. It's really a pity, he had rather liked her company earlier. "I--" he begins to answer her question with a quiet voice but doesn't get far before he's interrupted by Nate's demanding voice, turning his attention right back at him
'Came back to finish the job?' That's ridiculous. If that was really his motive he wouldn't have waited for them to wake up. No, he'd attack both of them in their sleep and kill them without them even knowing. But that's not him, not anymore at least. Edgar had never taken joy in killing and only done it when needed, to stay alive or to protect others. It's both heartbreaking and funny that they see him as a ruthless monster.
Because despite his reasons, isn't that just what he is?
"I needed to see you," he repeats after a heavy silence, not moving a inch. His eyes linger around the neck area where he had done the biggest damage. "I wanted to know if you were still hurting. If I ---" he pauses again, not sure how to go on from there.
Then he turns to look back at Elena again, "I also wanted to see you."
Hi! I'm the worst
Except she's not sure if this will come to a fight or not. Driving off a burglar, or whatever he is, seems like the logical next step, but Edgar isn't saying anything threatening. Just...creepy.
"You wanted to see us? Why?" She glares at him, wishing she could discern his true motive from a look, but there's nothing. "Nate, you know him?"
Not that she knows him well herself, but there should be a special bond that comes from a game of gin. Apparently there isn't.
no subject
Nate says through grit teeth, feeling Elena brush up against the back of his arm.
This close - and with considerably better lighting than there had been in that alley - it is both reaffirming and startling to see that the perpetrator is how he remembered. Slight, narrow, teenager-sized. A face of perpetual youthfulness, from sucking the life out of everybody else.
"It's not hurting anymore, thanks," comes the addition, dripping sarcasm. "But I didn't need a house call from Doctor Dracula."
no subject
"I didn't have a choice." Back then, when he had attacked Nate, Edgar had been so scared. Confused and frightened by the rules of this world and its people, hungry and hurt from poisonous dead blood that he had been sure he was about to die. Which, he might as well have if it weren't for Nate and Ivar. "I don't want you to hurt. That's why I'm here tonight."
And then he looks back up at the couple and takes a careful step forward, extending his arm out towards them with palm up as an invitation for them to take his hand. "If you come with me you won't hurt ever again. Please."
no subject
"I met him at the bar," she says to Nate. "He seemed normalish." As normal as anyone here might be here. She raises her chin, addressing Edgar directly now.
"What are you talking about? We're fine. You're the one who hurts him, and you need to leave."