bess d. fawcett (bestzeller) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-11-17 19:33:00

Entry tags:

Drystan!
There was a particular tree stump that the Fawcetts found to be a calming place, or at least Bess liked to think of it that way. She and Drystan had had a few talks, conversations, and discussions out here in the vast openness of their fields, and it seemed like while problems weren't always solved, they were worked on, solutions were found, things felt less heavy. She'd even found her kids hiding up here when they had fights with each other or were in a mood. It was where Bess' mind had taken her when she escaped from the implosion of Chester's shop.

She let out another long, shaky breath and ran her hands across her face. Her initial shock and terror had seemingly worn off, given that she wasn't crying hysterically and that her entire body wasn't shivering, but she couldn't find the strength to move from the hill and to the house. Even the cold autumn breeze couldn't whisk her up, and she wondered if maybe it was for the best. She didn't know if she could go back and face the world, or the questions, or the ramifications.

It felt like she'd spent hours justifying her actions. He'd taken her, he's basically kidnapped her from the stadium, she had to fight back, it was self-defense! Bess' thoughts jolted back to her means to get the upper hand and she let out a choked sob, thinking what if. What if she hadn't hit him hard enough? What if she couldn't stop him if things had gone further--

"It was self-defense," she muttered, putting the heels of her hands to her eyes. "Self-defense, it was self-defense--"

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brythonichero
2013-11-18 01:06 am UTC (link)

Drystan's mood was quite soured by the match, as he knew it would be. That Puddlemere had not caught the snitch once since the team's Seeker had started dating a Spinnet had not escaped Drystan's notice, but Matt seemed to slide out of his grasp like a greased garden gnome whenever Drystan had a mind to confront him about it.

Today's loss was nothing new, however, and Drystan was eager to return to the changing room and hang up his broomstick and robes for the remainder of the night. Though he did not slow his stride off the pitch, there was no wife to greet him, nor outside the changing rooms either before or after he entered them. His wounded pride felt another prickle of irritation, but Drystan shrugged it off. Not until Penelope came hurrying up to him as he left the room did Drystan suspect anything had gone awry.

His sister told him about the friend she had brought to the match, and how the two of them had spotted Bess, though something had shortly been amiss. His wife had apparently spilled her snacks and dashed away, and Penelope reported that her friend has disappeared moments afterward. She had seen neither of them since, and though Penelope hadn't the slightest idea of what was happening, could not ignore her growing concern.

The story made little sense to Drystan, but Penelope's panic was tangible enough to make him eager to quiet her down. Soothingly saying he would fix whatever was wrong, Drystan set off for home.

With his mother-in-law still watching the children and unaware of Bess's whereabouts, Drystan began to feel the first inkling of worry himself. There remained a place or two his wife could be before he needed to assume a full-on panic, but unrest was brewing within him.

Walking the vast length of their land, Drystan ascended their small, prized hill in the darkness, and breathed a sigh of relief before irritation wrinkled his brow.

"Here you are," he said as her back came into view. "Penelope was going on about—" Drystan broke off and frowned at Bess, who held her head in her hands. "What happened with you?"

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bestzeller
2013-11-18 03:05 am UTC (link)

Her entire body tensed at the sound of her husband's voice. Bess' hands dropped to her lap and she stared wide-eyed at the ground, realizing that she'd been trying to put her words into a story that made sense but was not ready to tell it. Especially not to--how could she tell him that---She'd done something terrible, but it was self-defense! But it was still so---Bess clenched her fists, screwing up her face to find an ounce of strength to face Drystan.

Bess twisted to face him, shoulders scrunched as if she was trying to completely turn into herself. She looked a right disaster and unconsciously patted her hair down.

"Tripp is Chester," Bess rasped, breaths growing heavy once again. The statement hit her hard, even though she'd known for hours now. She hadn't been able to let the enormity of it sink in. Drystan and Bess had been absolutely sure that it was Chester who was behind Penny's kidnapping that terrible summer, they had gone to drastic measures to get her back, and...and he was still playing around in her sister's life, just...just toying with them, waiting to strike. What had his plans been? What had he wanted to accomplish?

She felt sick as the thought consumed her. Had he ever been around when Penelope had the children? Was there a time when Sadie spoke to him as a friend without realizing who he was? Bess' lips trembled.

"Tripp----" Her eyes widened at her words and she let out a pitiful sound. "Chester was Tripp. He was---he'd been...this whole time..."

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brythonichero
2013-12-02 04:46 am UTC (link)

Bess looked worn, which had Drystan slowly replacing his irritation with worry, when she started to speak.

"What?" he asked, frowning, thinking surely he had misheard her.

When Penelope had come back to them, her memory in tatters, the Healers had advised not to stress her. She had been unable to tell the Hit-wizards anything about her kidnapping, was not even aware she had been forcibly taken and held somewhere for an interminably long time. Allow her time to rest, they had been told. She's protecting herself from whatever memories remain, to force them from her when she's not ready will only hurt her more.

In time, Penelope remembered bits and pieces of her lost time. They came to her in nightmares and waking dreams. For reasons no one could fathom, or wished to, the small, dark and quiet spaces soothed her. But never anything of her captor, especially when pressed. Drystan knew Chester had been involved. Their tense confrontation in the tea shop all but proved his involvement, but there was simply no proof, nor any indication as to the extent of his involvement. Drystan's hands were tied, but he was so unwilling to force Penelope into anything she was not prepared for. The details of Sadie's parentage were always kept vague, and barely a whisper of Chester was made around her after they realised no key details, no missing link, was coming back to her.

Perhaps it had been their mistake to shield her.

But this Tripp could not have been Chester. That was absurd. Surely that was absurd, as Drystan and Bess must have met him. Of course they had met him, hadn't—

"Was," Drystan said abruptly, gaze jerking back toward Bess. "You said 'was Tripp.' Why would—" He trailed off, taking in her whole appearance for the first time. "What happened?" he repeated.

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