dianna d. dobbs (babyd) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-10-24 13:45:00

Entry tags:

arista sykes, bertram aubrey, bess fawcett, bianca aubrey, delilah spinnet, dianna dobbs, drystan fawcett, edward pennifold, elliot alderton, ellsinore alderton, gaspard shingleton, graciela pennifold, greta catchlove, group, iwan quigley, kendall broadmoor, ludo bagman, marissa shimpling, max fancourt, michal conway lynch, nona pepper, nora peakes, octavius pepper, phoebe smethwyck, rose knightley, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, thomas mccormack

POSTED FOR SATURDAY~ Sinners & Saints Ghost Train!

As the country side rushed by outside the window, Dianna could feel her pride grow with each passing second. She wasn't one to admit that she bragged about her achievements, but it would be a lie to think that she was not going to be boasting at how overwhelmingly amazing this event had turned out to be. The turn out had been far more than anticipated, the musicians that varied through every other cart were fantastic and livening up the mood---there were even ghosts of old conductors and passengers floating through the carts and having the time of their after-lives scaring the guests.

It was to be a fun, fantastic, frightful night. Dianna was beside herself with excitement, and she tugged her skirt down a bit and went on a search for a friendly face to interact with. Merlin, she'd really out done herself this time, she thought amusing as a cart-wide sized cobweb magically unspun to let her pass.

Dianna flipped a golden curl over her shoulder, smirking greatly. She was so brilliant.

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-27 02:35 am UTC (link)

His sister was a little traitor.

Octavius was fairly certain he'd have been left in peace for the evening, perhaps spent reworking the station's budget for the fifteenth time, or perhaps incessantly checking the Muggle postbox for some information he was awaiting, had Nona not opened her enormous mouth to his friends and fed them some rot about how he needed to be dragged out of the house. Lo and behold, that was exactly what happened, as an army of four (well, really, three, as there was one courteous party amidst the torturers) essentially forced him into costume at wand- and trident-point. Nona had actually tried to make him the lion to her lion tamer, but he'd balked enough that one of his spare costumes was procured in its stead.

Once on the absurd train for this ridiculous party, however, he was rather wishing he'd chosen the lion. Elvis Presley was entirely too Muggle, and people kept stopping and asking him what he was supposed to be, which defeated the point of not socialising with anyone for the entire night. His friends tried nobly to keep him company, but because he was still a somewhat polite person, he understood he was souring the mood for the entire group, and made it a point to wander away at the most opportune moment.

Wander straight to where the alcohol was served, surprisingly or unsurprisingly. Drinking, as it had been previously established numerous times in recent history alone, never ended well for Octavius. For once in his life, however, he felt ready for whatever fresh hell insobriety would bring him, because he was actually prepared for it. Something, anything, to get his mind out of the vicious cycle it had been running itself through over the course of the week. After knocking back one or three, Octavius was trying to find a solitary spot to wait out the rest of the night, hitching the strap of his guitar so it was slung over his back. He walked right through a trio of ghosts, ignoring their splutters, and side-stepped something that looked like a bloodied torso with one arm creeping its way along the floor. A flash of something in the corner caught his attention, and Octavius turned his head just for a moment, before bumping into something in his path.

He couldn't even fake shock. "Surprise," he said dryly, gesturing outwards as a sarcastic smile touched his lips. Would the night really have gone any other way?

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flower
2012-10-27 06:49 pm UTC (link)

Despite having no hair hanging to anxiously tuck behind her ear, Rose's hand reached up to awkwardly hover near her neck anyway. Oh, okay. This was fine, this would be fine--- it would be fine! This violently sick feeling she was currently experiencing was--- fine. Nothing that couldn't be swallowed down and dealt with later. Fine. He hadn't started spitting fire at her, albeit accidental, touch either, so that was good, wasn't it? Fine. Perfectly-- fine. Good.

But it just wasn't fair, because she really had been trying--- and then--- with the-- what ill fate--- had he been drinking?

Rose stopped staring wide-eyed to look at him critically. Never, in the months that they dated had Octavius touched any, if not a sip, of alcohol-- not that he was drunk now, it was just-- not something that she would think of associating... she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It thoroughly made her feel more miserable, that was for certain, but aside from that...

"Sorry," Rose muttered, purposely taking a couple steps back to create space between them. It was really no longer her business what he did, and she therefore had little right to be making assumptions. She wiped her palms along her sides, which was more difficult and rough than usual with her dress.

Swallowing, she thought that there were still many things that she wished she could explain, or talk about, or re-explain to him, but the time to do that was not now. It might never come. That thought sobered her, and Rose looked down at the ground to help fight a gripping rush of depression take over. It was just so difficult to let go.

"I didn't--- sorry," she repeated, shaking her head. She should go--- yes. That would be for the best. Rose awkwardly reached for her neck again, and then jerkily crossed her legs to sidestep away into a not-blocked path of exit. Merlin she felt like crawling into a hole and dying there.

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-28 02:55 pm UTC (link)

No, Octavius wasn't drunk, but he certainly had had enough that he simply didn't care anymore. About anything. No, there were no repercussions, no consequences, nothing of that sort. He wasn't suffering from heartbreak, or humiliation. No, what he felt was a lot of… nothing.

But even if he insisted he felt only this numb nothingness, his body certainly remembered the old hurt feelings enough to go through the motions of them. With his hackles properly raised at the words she'd just uttered, Octavius moved smoothly in front of Rose's attempt to skirt around him, a move he hadn't thought himself of even being capable until he'd done it. She didn't get to walk away from him without a scene, he thought. She wasn't the one who got to do what she did and then mumble apologies and hasten away when an awkward public encounter between them threatened.

"You know," he said, deliberately stepping forward, as if cutting off her escape route hadn't been enough. He told himself not to notice her allure, that he didn't care about causing a nuisance, that he was once again needling at sores better left alone. "That's a word I've been hearing you say a lot, lately. Have you noticed that?"

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flower
2012-10-28 04:15 pm UTC (link)

Her heart stopped.

What was he doing?

Rose watched Octavius, lips zipped, as he effectively blocked her, and a truly different kind of dread filled her. It wasn't that his approach made her feel threatened or unsafe, but it struck her deeply because she never would have thought he would do.... this. She had thought he wanted to be left alone, he had said he didn't want to see her, so, so--- what was he thinking, what could possibly be going through his mind to think that---

At his words, her face paled. Rose tripped back at he stepped forward, suddenly finding it important to do so. She was not prepared for a fight, for a revisit of last week which she honestly still had not healed her wounds from, so the mere prospect of another go around made her positively green. What else could she say? What did he want her to say? She would do anything, say anything he wanted if it remotely healed things, or at least alleviated the obvious pain she had caused him. But she didn't--- know what else to do. What did he want from her?

He was upset. He was upset, she of all people knew that you said and did things you regretted when you were felt this way. So, Rose pulled back her lips, biting them slightly as she sought to calm herself.

"I'm not going to fight with you Octavius," she spoke in a low tone, trying her best to ignore his eyes, for out of everything about him, they were the best and worst to gaze at.

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-28 05:06 pm UTC (link)

He had to ignore the blood draining from her face, ignore that she shrank away from him, ignore that she was playing peacemaker.

Because he wanted her to fight him, didn't she get that? He didn't want these apologies, because he didn't want her to be sorry! For if she were sorry, if she were so well and truly remorseful for what had come to pass between them, then why did it? If the people who loved you could do this to you, then what did it even mean to be loved? Why would anyone in the world want that, when all it would do was twist you up inside, just to rip it all out in the end?

"No," he repeated, continuing to advance despite her stumble, forcing them into a corner of the carriage, waiting for her to do something, anything, "you're not going to fight with me."

It was but two steps before his arm could make contact with the wall, and he braced one hand by her ear, leaning close to her.

His voice wasn't the measured tone that he knew was one of his best weapons against her, but it was quiet, almost confident, just a lilt of desperation underlying it all. "Do you know why?"

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flower
2012-10-28 10:22 pm UTC (link)

Her heart began sputter, as she was becoming increasingly fearful of where this altercation was heading. Had what she had done-- had what happened really turned Octavius into this angry and barely recognizable version of himself? She had done this, it was all her fault, and look, now, Rose could practically feel the snarl in his throat. She pushed her back miserably into the wall, too taken aback to do much else.

And when he leaned close, Rose felt a complex mixture of deep dread and great excitement fill her, as if this wasn't what it was. That wasn't--- right. She quickly looked down, resting her chin on her collar to not have to directly look at him. These positive and negative feelings within her were too powerful to control, leaving her feeling quite tortured.

Was that what he wanted, then? To torture her at every opportunity he got? Did he think she didn't feel that way already? These word plays, she hated them because they were set up from the beginning, with little time to figure your way out of a trap you knew you were in. They were not fair, but it was quite obvious to her now that Octavius was not concerned about being fair.

She did not want to hear his answer, and therefore would not give him the satisfaction of verbally responding to his question. Instead, Rose finally looked back up to stare at him intensely, mentally bracing herself for the worst.

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-29 02:15 am UTC (link)

He didn't know if he had expected her to answer. He liked that she didn't, because it probably would just have been another sorry, and he wanted to burn the word out of the dictionary for all it was supposed to mean. "Because I think you do," Octavius said quietly, "I think you know it doesn't matter who you touch."

It would have been easy, so easy to just kiss her. He couldn't have said if that's what she wanted, but if her heart was thumping anywhere near as painfully as his, it had to have been. But he wouldn't, because they couldn't do that anymore, and he was wrestling with all these feelings to the point where he didn't know what stemmed from where, or why.

Not a single part of her body brushed his. He was leaning into her, so close together in their little bubble, but they weren't in contact at all, not even a strand of beads from her cap to his wrist hovering by her ear. "I don't care who you let touch you."

He met her stare fully, holding it as he ducked his head til his lips were a hairsbreadth from her ear. "Because you're mine."

No, the last word he ever had to worry about her saying to him again was sorry. When he pulled back again, he looked almost startled, but said, "And don't you forget that."

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flower
2012-10-29 03:41 am UTC (link)

Rose had pressed her head back to the wall, eyes closed as it was feeling almost impossible to endure how close he had become to her. Her brain felt dazed, and if he had been saying anything else, she would have been too distracted to fully take in his words. He had probably thought, when he leaned close to her ear, that he was torturing her, dangling something, him, in front of her in a manner that could only be meant for one reason. She instinctively leaned closer, for the first time in weeks taking in his smell, and despite everything, everything, she couldn't deny that it still made her feel---- Rose's eyes shot open at his whispers, and she violently pulled back as he did from her.

What had he--- surely, surely--- but the look on his face, it cemented all doubts she had about his words simply being a misunderstanding. Rose felt a deep burn begin to rise within her, and her breaths became deeper and louder with every rise and fall of her chest. She began to look at him with such an intense gaze, it burned her, and she hoped it burned him.

She was his? He didn't care? If he didn't care, then they wouldn't be having this conversation. And if she was his, then he wouldn't be wasting his time allowing her to flounce around unattached for this long. She was his, she was his?! They were each other's. What was wrong with him, he was a bloody--- Rose did not have to think about how she would react to him, they simply happened.

She ran her hands behind her on the wall for support briefly, then swiftly lifted her heel and ran it down hard into Octavius' right foot.

"I slept with Rupert Brookstanton because you couldn't say you loved me," she snapped, her hands balling into fists. "You didn't owl, you didn't visit-- you didn't do anything," she hissed, bending down slightly to his level. "All over a bloody journal!"

She brought her foot down upon his again, digging it in with the absolute rage and pain coursing through her. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Rose had tried, very very hard to only help mend the wounds between them, but he didn't want that. He wanted this.

"And we broke up because you inappropriately viewed my relationships with my friends. There aren't many wizards I dislike more than Charlie Spinnet, but I put up with him everyday, for you, and you couldn't even extend the courtesy of doing--- you couldn't even be bothered--- practically jumped at an opportunity---

"I made a mistake, but you're making one now." Rose stood back up straight, her entire body ablaze. How dare he assume--- she would have given him everything, everything--- "And you're letting your selfish hatred ruin what we had and what we were." Her nostrils flared, and with her free hand she jabbed his shoulder.

"Don't you forget that."

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-29 04:45 am UTC (link)

The pain radiating through his foot would have been a rude awakening, were he not painfully alert already. He felt himself go a little limp, in fact, as some of the alarming tension that had been building seeped right out of his body. Octavius hadn't known, not for certain, what reaction his words would provoke from her, but they had done what he'd hoped. And although he felt bitterly that they were true on some level, he knew he'd be ashamed of saying them when the haze of the night had finally filtered through him.

If there were ever a doubt about if he was, or more appropriately, exactly how perverse Octavius was, the answer could be measured by the sort of grim satisfaction, the relief, he was feeling at her anger. He gave her the benefit of meeting her stare head-on, because she deserved that, and although her words pulled at the old wounds their incessant arguing over the last months had dug, he let them go. He realised, perhaps too little too late, that that might have been the kiss of death for them, being unable to let these things go. The continuous belief that they could make the other understand their perspective if they only just… could perhaps be as damaging as failing to see the other perspective at all. The endless cycling, needling, endeavouring to get the last word in. Rose's jab rocked him backward, but he said nothing, merely looked at her.

All he wanted was to slink away, to let her have this, but it felt somehow important to play the fight, though he had none of it left in him. No fire, simply ice, and he thought it miraculous that he could even imagine feigning it for an argument he didn't deserve to have. "When will you understand that it never bothered me, this absurd disagreement about how you view your friends? It was never a question of liking or disliking them—So what if you treated them closer than usual, I knew you were with me!" He leaned back. "Or at least, you were."

Folding his arms, he continued, "Then I will remind you that it was at your edict we not communicate, which I believe I followed. And again, it was your choice to lift that edict and seek me out, to which I listened, though you were withholding some crucial information." He ticked off on his fingers. "All along, I've been subjected to your whims, your decisions, simply to find out at the end that if you ever really cared, it was obviously not enough."

But then, because it wasn't going through the motions, because he felt this last part keenly, he shook his head, and his voice lost its wintry tone. "You keep saying love, but how do you show it? How am I to believe that any of this is the way love is supposed to be?"

There was the last thing, one last thing, before he was done, finished with saying his piece no matter what else she wanted to do to him. When he dropped his hands, there was an air of defeat about him, but his tone was soft, pleading, although with a note of warning. "But don't pretend I'm the only one who's ruined what was between us."

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flower
2012-10-30 12:25 am UTC (link)

His simple stares only fueling her more, and Rose quickly jumped toward him as he fell back. No, no, he wasn't going to slither away from this, he didn't just get to say things like that and depart as if it had been strictly talk of the weather. Her face twisted aggressively--- how could he just look at her like that?! It made her want to scream, it made her want to hit him more, knock out this absurd being that was obviously possessing Octavius Pepper until the one she knew returned. But was that--- did he not exist anymore?

"But it bothered me!" her voice cracked as she spoke, now jabbing her hand into her own chest. "It bothered me, why don't you understand that?! Regardless of what it was, anything at all, you don't keep going on about it because it bothered me." Rose threw her hands down, pressing herself close to him as her words were tempered and hushed. There was still a vague awareness in the back of her mind that they were in public. And she understood, now, what he was saying, but that didn't change the aftermath effect of it all. He made her feel humiliated, like a fool that couldn't function properly, or one that needed extra attention from other men--- and he wouldn't even let it go for her.

Her blood was at a practical boil as he continued. Her eyes widened, but in a manner reminiscent of a predator spotting it's prey. What was wrong with him? How could he--- possibly blame her for attempting to rebuild--- "I belong to you but I'm that one that's controlling?" Rose let out incredulously, so angry she couldn't even manage to find humor. "Which one is it, Octavius?! I can't be below you and force you to do only what I want the whole time!" She shook her head furiously, and without thinking roughly shoved her hands on his chest to push him back.

And, to add insult to injury, he kept going, making her feel practically delusional. Rose's next words came out quickly, as she didn't even think about them.

"Because you don't love me!" Rose snapped hotly, and immediately began to feel feverish tears sting her eyes. She had be feeling--- thinking, even before this fight had blown up into what it was, that her feelings toward him had become--- more than his for her, but it hadn't--- it had been too painful to focus on, so she had buried it down deep-- "This isn't love because you don't love me," she repeated, her voice finally seeming to quell.

She felt her body begin to shake, and her previous misery begin to creep back into her bones. Covering her face with her hands, Rose shook her head and continued, because she must. "I told you, in your office, I do feel--- didn't you believe me?" Whether or not he would understand that she meant taking responsibilities for her actions, she didn't know, but the spark within her had vanished, so she couldn't go on further now.

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dinglealltheway
2012-10-31 02:01 am UTC (link)

All he felt now was sick and miserable. Octavius could hear the words she was saying, feel how angry and frustrated and perhaps even a little desperate herself she was, but he hadn't the strength to match her. From the rehashing of his well-executed but still disgusting display earlier, to the same old arguments that they always seemed to be having, his urge to correct, to protest, to anything was fast fading.

It wasn't until the shove, when his back hit the wall and the strings on his guitar twanged, that anything she was saying struck a true chord in Octavius, but it wasn't because she touched him. Did a wizard act as if possessed by a madman solely because hishonour or dignity had been compromised? Did a man who acted like Octavius had been do so because of the inherent betrayal of such an act, or because the betrayal made a mockery of something else… something deeper… something like… love?

Was that what this was? Was that why he felt so ripped apart inside, and why any sense of rationality appeared to have left him?

If that were true, if this was the moment he'd picked for such a realisation—the whole idea of it served only to further sicken him. If that proved to be the reason behind his essential meltdown, Octavius felt absolutely no relief at its discovery. And he could not continue to stand here like this, locked in the middle of a fight with a furious Rose.

"I can't do this," Octavius choked out, shaking his head and twisting out and away from her. "We can't—can't do this."

He met her eyes briefly as he now backed away, sure a pleading expression crossed his face. "I'm sorry," he said, and spun quickly around, long legs making quick work of the small carriage. He glanced up just in time to see Thomas entering the carriage from the same direction, and jerked his head away as they were about to pass. He needed to keep walking. That's all he needed to do, just keep walking, just get air, just—get away.

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thomases
2012-10-31 02:29 am UTC (link)

He let Octavius brush by him, stopping in the middle of the aisle as his eyes caught sight of Rose. She looked murderous, and it didn't take a former Ravenclaw to put together what had transpired. Or, at least, figure out that there had been a fight of sorts between the two exes that had not gone so well. He and Kendall had parted to find their respective dates and now Thomas felt extremely guilty for losing Rose in the crowd. If he had been here when Octavius did or said whatever it was to make Rose look about ready to kill, Thomas was sure he would have been tossed off the train.

'He' being himself or Octavius, he wasn't sure.

"Whoa," Thomas said, catching Rose by the shoulders as she tried to swiftly move past him. There was no way he was going to let her go after her ex, not with that sort of look in her eye. Thomas braced himself for some shrill screaming and a bit of smacking around, but it was something he'd grown used to over the years of being Rose's friend and confidant. "You can't go after him."

She couldn't. It wasn't healthy. Thomas knew very well how obsessing over someone who'd broken your heart could mess a person up, how trying to fix something irreparable tore at you in a million different ways, and he refused to let Rose go through the same thing. It would take time to accept and move on, but the least he could do was push her in the right direction.

"Let him go," Thomas said, his words heavy. He tried to catch her gaze, keeping his hold strong.

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flower
2012-10-31 03:19 am UTC (link)

"Yes I can!" Rose snapped, moving about wildly within Thomas' grasp. She brought her knees forward, digging her heels into the ground in an attempt to spring forward, to follow Octavius, because who did he think he was just running away? What a coward, a bloody cowardly lion that was no different from the rest of them---

"Yes I---" But now Thomas was blocking her view too much, and she could no longer tell how far Octavius had gone, or even if he was still present in the carriage. No no no! In what world was he allowed to run away, after what he had done to her, with just a sorry. Sorry! Hadn't that just minutes ago been inexcusable? Only when she said it.

“Let go of me--- Thomas!” She roughly brought her hands to his wrists, vainly trying to break his fast grip. He did not know, he hadn’t just heard--- he wouldn’t be--- you didn't just flee from a fight--- what he had said, what he had done-- Rose let out a loud high-pitched shriek as she realized she could move no further. He would get away just like he wanted.

“This isn't over!” she began to shout over Thomas' shoulder, disinterested in any people around them, or with the possibility that Octavius had gone out of earshot. “WE’RE NOT DONE!” Her voice reached a near screech, with one last surge of energy. How could he do this to her, after everything, the entirety of their relationship, and he just---

For a split second, Rose's wild movements stopped. She understood Thomas' weighty tone, and his simple words felt too hefty to bare. She couldn't, she couldn't, that was the problem--- finally, he caught her eye and-- she burst into tears after a few moments of exchanged silence. What else-- what else could she do but nosily sob into her best friend's chest?

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