|
Post by Diana Ward on Sept 28, 2016 1:21:45 GMT -5
London. It had been so...so very long. In fact the last time she had been here... she had been one month pregnant before her father shipped her off. Before she had "lost" the baby. Before her father had stolen it from her. Before she had gone to America to find the girl. Before she had met Whistler. Before she had sold her soul to become whatever it was she had become now.
Now she was back, her father was dead, and she was different.
Sighing she put her sunglasses back on and walked the familiar streets until she stopped at the Hollow Tree Inn. It wasn't the Avalon or anything so lavish which she had ample funds to pay for, but she wanted something like a hole in the wall, hell she just needed a bed finding that traveling had made her weary.
She stepped inside and he was coming down a set of stairs. Her feet would not move, her lungs would not take in breath.
She should have known she couldn't return to London without her past finding her.
She just hadn't expected to find her past so soon, or ever again for that matter.
|
|
|
Post by Christian Ward on Sept 28, 2016 19:42:51 GMT -5
Christian had made a pretty good life for himself in London. After his father's health declined, Christian had taken over the family business. That's what they called it. The family business. Christian was really something of a mobster, not so big as the Americans Al Capone or Mickey Cohen. His name was not so well known across the pond. But here in London, people knew who he was and everyone wanted something from him. The poor people wanted to be rich. The rich people wanted protection. And the MLE wanted him in Azkaban. It was good fortune, but not so much sheer luck, that the Ministry had been unable to successfully link him or his business with any illegal actions. Though there had been plenty.
Christian often did business in the Hollow Tree Inn. The inn keeper was one of those poor people who wanted to be rich, and Christian offered a tidy fee for uninterrupted use of parts of the facility, and the man's silence. Christian had just finished a meeting when he headed down the stairs for home. The lobby was nearly empty, except the inn keeper who was looking over his logs, and an attractive woman who looked somewhat familiar. He carried on down the stairs until he reached the main floor where the woman stood, apparently frozen to the spot, her eyes fixed on him. He looked quizzically at her before a name popped into his head. "I know you, don't I? Dolores, isn't it?" This was not the name he had thought of, and he gave a knowing smile.
|
|
|
Post by Diana Ward on Sept 28, 2016 22:18:00 GMT -5
She gave herself a moment and closed her eyes. She deserved it. She had so much emotion for the man in front of her. Hatred not being too far from the top, but something else too. Something that felt like poison in her blood. She wouldn't have thought it possible that anything outside of being reunited with her daughter could make her feel anything, but she felt for this man.
It only took her a moment to kill it.
When her eyes opened again they were cool, detached. Christian could have been a bug on the floor for all the attention she paid him.
"You don't know me." not anymore.
With that as a dismissal she walked past him toward the inn keeper.
|
|
|
Post by Christian Ward on Sept 28, 2016 23:22:55 GMT -5
Christian raised his eyebrows at her response. Obviously this was not the reaction he was expecting, but it intrigued him. He followed as she walked away from him. "That's funny," he said to her, even though she was not facing him, "because when you were ogling me just now, you looked like you'd just seen a ghost for the first time."
|
|
|
Post by Diana Ward on Sept 28, 2016 23:48:58 GMT -5
When the inn keeper realized he had a customer he asked for her to sign the registry and pay up front. She replied by setting a heavy pouch of gold on the counter and told him to forget the registry.
As he went to get her key she replied to Christian though she didn't bother to look his way.
"I never said I didn't know you."
And she did know him. She knew every inch of the man though he was older, broader, and ,curse the Gods, more handsome than ever. All through her pregnancy she lived on the memory of them together. When she had her accident, it was his face that flashed in her eyes. When she was told that her baby had died, it was his name she cursed over and over again. She had built a hatred for the man, for leaving her, for discarding her and their child. Over time she had learned to control her emotions. She struggled with it at first, she was so weak with emotion, but she had succeeded in the end. Perhaps she succeeded too well, beyond control she had killed any feeling she had left for anything.
The fact that the sight of him made her feel something was almost terrifying, it didn't matter that they were feelings of hate.
|
|
|
Post by Christian Ward on Sept 29, 2016 0:04:23 GMT -5
Oh, she was feisty. And clearly brooding. The question was, was this thorough look of unhappiness caused by seeing him, or was she naturally this despondent. Christian walked to her side and leaned casually on the counter. "So you know me, but I don't know you. Only, I believe I do. Is it Dorothy?" he asked with a smirk. "Denise? It's something with a D."
|
|
|
Post by Diana Ward on Sept 29, 2016 0:36:20 GMT -5
Finally she turned toward him amused, unconsciously mimicking his body language by leaning on the counter.
"I'm not particularly interested in what you believe."
Diana didn't entirely believe that he had forgotten her name, and if he had she had long ago dealt with the fact that their affair had meant much more to her than it had to him. The Diana he knew might have been hurt, heartbroken even, that he either forgot her name or was toying with her now, but the Diana that stood in front of him now didn't have a heart to break.
|
|
|
Post by Christian Ward on Sept 29, 2016 1:07:56 GMT -5
He looked pointedly at her. "Whatever I did to you, doll, it must have been a doozy. Shame I don't remember. I have a sneaking suspicion I'd look back on it with fond memories." He stood fully, and headed away from her toward the door to the street. He pulled the door open and spoke without looking back. "Have a good evening, Diana."
|
|
|
Post by Diana Ward on Sept 29, 2016 1:31:35 GMT -5
She gave him an unconscious hard look when he blithely referred to his abandoning her in the middle of the night as "whatever I did to you," but other than that kept her emotions hidden.
She even bit back releasing a breath as he turned to leave her. She turned too and took the key from the inn keeper who had been watching the exchange. She needed something to steady her, and inwardly she both cursed him and thanked him for evoking some kind of emotion in her.
"Bourbon." she told the inn keeper while placing another handful of coins on the counter, she had spied the man's bottle behind the counter from the mirror behind him. She took it and the not too clean glass and poured herself a shot downing it quickly. He had reached the door and she had just enough dignity to let him walk away.
Her name on his lips once again. A dozen images ran through her mind. He had shouted her name in the throws of ecstasy; he had whispered it like a benediction against her skin. She gripped the glass resisting the urge to throw it at his head, Denise, Dorothy, Dolores my ass!
"Burn in Hell, Christian."
|
|
|
Post by Christian Ward on Sept 29, 2016 1:47:11 GMT -5
"That is the plan, my dear." He continued out the door without looking back at her, but he could imagine the fury that burned in her eyes. The madness in her voice was undeniable.
|
|