Saints - Take 3

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Saints - Take 3.

Post  AshBash on Wed Jan 29, 2014 2:53 am

Peyton smiled as Abbadon questioned her about their little romp, seeming to seeking her approval. His breath was warm as it washed against her neck as he spoke, while his voice encompassed an undeniably sexy rasp. It seemed to creep up whenever they engaged in a bit of pleasure. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, his breathing still slightly labored from their physical exertions prior.

"It could have been better.." She teased, lightly biting the top of his hand that rested near her chest. Playfulness was something Peyton had found worked in her favour if ever she became embarrassed. She did not want to spoil this new-found sense of affection though, so instead, she proceeded with the more honest and sincere response, the one she had felt with conviction all along. "It was very nice..  Incredibly sexy."  She murmured, pressing her lips gently to the area she had caught between her teeth prior which had now begun to redden.

The likelihood that their relationship would take on a more romantic notion had never seemed plausible. She didn't have the foggiest idea as to what their relationship was classified under. It was founded on, and very likely unhealthy doses of, sexual relations, money, and materialistic items. Though those three things were the founders, Peyton had begun to question where it was going, or if it would for that matter.

Peyton began drifting to sleep listening to the sound of his breathing. She startled awake, jumping slightly as she felt her head begin to fall off of Abbadon's shoulder. She was comforted as his arms snaked around her a bit more tightly after tossing the comforter over the both of them. It was soothing to know he had no intentions of leaving her any time soon.

Sleep was full of tossing, turning, and coupled with quiet whimpers, mumbling, and mostly incoherent words. Who knew what 'mmbph' meant anyway? However, after a couple of hours of what you would think was restless sleeping, Peyton uttered three fateful words that she had never sounded to any man in her entire life. "I love you."

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Wed Jan 29, 2014 4:27 am

Abbadon had felt quite comfortable curled up in bed with Peyton. She filled whatever room she was in with an undeniable warmness that the house lacked. It felt good to have her warm body wrapped around him, nestled under the blankets on the bed. It lent him a certain brand of calm.

Maybe I should stay Abbadon thought as he listened to the gentle pelting of rain on the roof. The storm was earlier had provided light rain in short bursts through out the evening, but this time it sounded like the rain would stay with them through the night. It echoed through the hallways and large airy rooms, collecting the beams that laid across the ceilings, accompanied by the occasional rattling shutter when the wind caught the right way.

His hands reached up to soothe Peyton when ever she began to toss and turn, stroking her hair or lightly rubbing her back. The occasional "shh" following the motions when she seemed more restless. He couldn't make out much of what she said, but three hit him quickly.

I love you

His body tensed up and almost recoiled at the words. He didn't like that word. Love He scoffed in his mind. Love he repeated it like it was a dirty word. She didn't even know who he was, yet alone love him - and he was certain if she knew anymore than she currently did that without doubt she would not 'love' him.

She's sleeping. Who knows what she's talking about Abbadon told himself. She was dreaming, she could of loved a multitude of things - but not him. The sick feeling that Peyton's affections so often caused returned to him. He began to unwind himself from Peyton's hold. Kicking the blankets that wrapped them up away bit by bit until he was free from both Peyton and the fabric.

He paused to look at her - relaxed, trusting, stupid. Stupid to sleep with him, stupid to trust him, stupid to not look around her and notice the signs. All it would take was once mistake on his part and she would be ripped to shreds. His opinion on himself was not much better, he knew what he was. He was a monster who was to roam the earth picking off whatever mortals he pleased, one who had very ill intentions at first for the girl who had fallen asleep on his chest. He wasn't sure what he had been thinking to bring her here, to much was out in the open and it was too dangerous for her to stay, but yet he had no intentions of sending her away.

Abbadon had walked through the house, it felt suffocating. The aged, and sun faded rugs muffled the sound of his foot steps as he walked down the stairs. His eyes slowly looking of the relics of his past. Even at his age, all the relics of his life, everything that told his story was able to fit inside four walls and a roof. He stepped out through the back door to the porch where Peyton had been painting earlier. The tarp she had covered the wood with was crumbled up next to the house. He pursed his lips and questioned his decision on bringing her to the manor again as he walked off towards the swamp.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Wed Jan 29, 2014 5:29 am

A loud clap of thunder rumbling in from somewhere too close for comfort woke Peyton the next morning. The room wasn't filled with the bright rays of warmth from the sun as usual, but instead a nasty, grey-ish glow filled the room. The darkness made the usually cheerful room feel cold and gloomy. The only warmth that seemed to remain was that of her own body heat trapped underneath the heavy comforter.

Once more, she wasn't accompanied by Abbadon in the morning, and while it normally wouldn't plague her mind with worry, she was left feeling discouraged. She had thought that the intimate filled night may have changed his mind to spend the night with her. Instead, there was no signs to where he had run off to and she was left to her own vices. Typical Abbadon.

A quick shower chased away her questions enough to put on a smile and make her way downstairs. She didn't know who she would encounter in the old home. The grounds keeper, Mrs.Abbott, and Abbadon all lurked around the property quietly keeping to themselves. She needn't drag the rest of them down with her less than stellar mood -- the weather was reason enough to be ill.

While blow drying her hair, Peyton heard footsteps nearing her door. After a few more minutes of what seemed like pacing, she switched off the neon orange dryer and set it onto the beautifully hand-carved vanity. She spun around on the vanity stool, her attention turning to the shadows of someone standing outside of her doorway. Curious, she strolled across the dark, worn hardwood to expose whoever was too hesitant to enter.

Much to Peyton's surprise, no one stood before her. Instead, she heard the faint ruffling of something toward the stairwell. A deep, navy blue piece of cloth trailing down the stairs caught her attention. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stepped lightly and followed the mysterious noises. Perhaps the damn tabby cat had come inside and began dragging something around. It wouldn't surprise her, as he was so adamant about entering Abbadon's room for whatever reason.

The stairs and hardwood floors echoed loudly. The home now had an eerie presence to it, ghostly noises and flashes of colour catching her attention in various places and leading her into the depths of the home to which she had intended to explore more.

At the end of the hallway, rustling of feathers came from Abbadon's study. Shit she thought. What if the cat found its way into Lucinda's birdcage. Upon opening the door, however, it revealed nothing more than a daft, dusty office with a colourful parrot tucked away in a spacious wire cage. An eyebrow rose in confusion. She knew she hadn't entirely lost her mind. Or had she?

Sighing in confusion, Peyton plopped down into the supple leather chair of Abbadon's. She laid her head on the wooden desk, trying to convince herself that she did not need to make an appointment with a shrink for hearing and seeing things. Suddenly, Lucinda's squawks cut through the cluttered mess that was Peyton's mind.

Drawer! Drawer!

Peyton rose her head, glancing at Lucinda whose colourful wings now flapped in a frenzy. Assuming the desk harbored some sort of treats, she began pulling them open in search of something to quiet the bird. One by one, she came up empty handed -- that was until she found the painting that had once hung outside of her doorway in the bottom left drawer.


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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Wed Mar 12, 2014 12:07 pm

Abbadon had spent most of the day wandering the swamps that took over the back half of the property. It was an area that had been untouched by time, much like the manor itself but Peyton had not been stirring changes. Massive cypress trees sprung up around the marshy areas, Spanish moss hanging on the barren trunks and and wrapping around the exposed roots that dipped into the water. It was a strikingly different landscape from the grassy fields spotted with gardens and live oaks dotting the manicured lawns of area the home sat on.

The swamp was so thick with growth that even in the middle of the day it was still shady, though in a couple areas the trees gave way enough to allow sunlight to hit the duckweed infested water. The alligators had congregated there to warm themselves, some had been there long enough that Abbadon had learned to tell them apart - missing the tip of a tail, a claw, a couple teeth. Their low rumble would echo eerily through the otherwise quite swamp.

By the time Abbadon headed back towards the stately manor, the sun had almost vanished below the horizon. The swamp that had been quiet throughout the day was coming to life. Bull frogs croaked, cranes flew up to the bare trees to find a place to roost, the alligators had sunk back into the water to find dinner, blending right into the murky water with only their eyes peeping up.

He ambled out of the swamp only to see the lights illuminating the house. It looked inviting. He sighed heavily with the realization that he had left Peyton to herself all day while he wandered with his thoughts. While making his way through the large stretch of field that kept distance between the house and the marsh, the weathered white of Evelyn's tombstone caught his eye. It sat nestled below a live oak, a broken bridge crossing the stream in front of it that fed into the swamp. He pursed his lips as he stopped to look at it. It looked like it had always been there, but he knew it hadn't.

The lettering worn away to where it was barley legible to someone who might not of known what it said, it had sat through over a hundred humid summers, every rain storm had slowly chipped away at the stone. He didn't visit it much anymore, not for lack of wanting too. He was afraid that if he touched it, it would crumble, much like what he had always feared would happen to the body the stone marked. He was all to right about it the first time and was not willing to chance the marker.

Abbadon pushed the thought back, reminding himself that her body was more decayed that the stone. It wasn't something he should concern himself any longer. He looked only for a moment longer, watching as a large turtle pushed itself onto the bank where Evelyn had been buried before turning back towards the lights shining through the windows of his home.

He removed his muddy shoes before setting foot on the wooden steps of the back porch. he was relived to learn, by a quick sniff of his shirt, that the smell of the swamp had not lingered on the fabric, just the light smell of cypress trees. He crossed the threshold of the house, welcoming the cool air that the large ceiling fans pushed around as he peeked down the hallways looking for a sign of Peyton.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Wed Mar 12, 2014 12:37 pm

A bemused laugh escaped from Peyton's thin, pursed lips as she uncovered the painting that Abbadon had refused to acknowledge the night before. It laid face down in the large mahogany desk's bottom right drawer, purposely set aside for no one to lay eyes upon again. Her fingers ran over the woman's face delicately, feather light, as she feared the touch of her fingers upon the aged photograph would cause her face to weather away even more.

The woman possessed a beauty that only fairy tales spoke of. Her hair, though pinned up neatly, tendrils of curls fell, framing the heart-shaped face. Her eyes were nearly as black as the hair piled atop her head, piercing, yet warm. She was dressed in a gorgeous Victorian gown which was hinted by the collar, or so Peyton assumed, as it matched the rest of the home.

The sound of the front door closing drew her attention back to the bothered mood she had been brought into upon finding the photograph. Scoffing, she gripped the portrait of the beautiful woman dressed in nineteenth century attire and pushed the desk drawer back into the desk rather forcefully, almost slamming it shut.

Storming out of the stuffy office, Peyton caught a glance of Abbadon rounding the corner. Though he offered her a polite and seemingly apologetic smile, it did nothing but fuel her anger. Though she let a lot of things go, lying had never been something she permitted and wasn't about to begin accepting from anyone. "You don't know what I'm talking about? I must be mistaken.. Really?" She spat out, holding the vintage photograph up.

Loud knocking coming from the front door caught her attention, but did nothing to subdue her rage. The entire time she closed in toward the heavy wooden door, she was being argumentative and hot-headed. "Talk to me like I'm a fucking child and blatantly lie to me. Nice going, Mr.Solace." Peyton muttered. Pulling the door open, she exposed yet another abnormally tall man standing in the doorway. Raising an eyebrow, Peyton looked him over before speaking. "Can I help you?"

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Wed Mar 12, 2014 1:09 pm

Abbadon's face went white as we watched the tips of Peyton's fingers press onto the long dried oil paint covering the canvas. He didn't fear Peyton's wrath so much as he feared the damage of the painting. He reached desperately for the the edges of the canvas, watching as a few small peices of paint flaked away where the parlor wallpaper was painted in the background.

As much as the image saddened him, he cherished the painting. It had been done a few weeks before her death, it showed her like he remembered her. The navy blue dress peeked into the frame, a delicate white lace draped over it - caressing her collar bone. Thin, Pale pink lips slightly open as if something behind the painter had caught her attention. The tops of her cheeks were flushed the same color as her lips, brushed lightly over her cheekbones while the rest of her porcelain skin swept down creating a graceful profile. Her eyes, while dark, had a special brightness to them that the painter had been able to capture.

"Be careful with it." Abbadon pleaded offering no explanation as he gently took the painting from her, examining it before setting it back in the office while Peyton answered the door.



Valafar's haunting green eyes perked up Peyton opened the door in a rather upset mood. He had heard a bit of yelling, but wasn't able to make out the cause. Though he wasn't sure what the cause was, he was certain he could snoop out the cause and do a bit of pot-stirring. After all, there was nothing more he loved more than creating trouble.

"Yes, Actually." He cleared his throat as he brushed a hand through his blonde hair. "I was here to meet up with Abbadon, but it appears your a bit busy with him." He offered an apologetic smile to Peyton - and while Peyton turned to look at Abbadon, a beaming grin like a child who had brought home a report card with nothing less than A+ all over it. "We were just going to head out to the bar - but tossing a few drinks back here wouldn't be so bad." Valafar said as he invited himself into the home, hanging his jacket up on the coat stand.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Wed Mar 12, 2014 1:44 pm

Peyton couldn't believe her eyes as she watched Abbadon stare so tenderly at the painting she had reluctantly let him remove from her hands. How he could love a photograph so dearly and yet cause her so much distress was anguish was beyond her. It was then that she turned toward the man in the doorway, still reeling in disbelief.

Peyton stepped aside so the gentlemen could enter the home, being a polite hostess even though she was still fired up from Abbadon's longstanding streak of lies that had been spilling from his mouth left and right over the course of God knows how long. She watched carefully as he made himself very comfortable in the obviously familiar home, wondering how the two had become acquainted.

She laughed bitingly at the mention of Abbadon's plans that evening. "Of course he would make plans to go out and not inform me. It seems that lying is in season." She chirped sarcastically, slamming the door shut. Her eyes cut across the room at Abbadon, glaring, more hurt than anything at this point.

Running her fingers through her hair, Peyton turned toward their guest and offered him the most sincere smile she could muster up. "Hi, I'm Peyton. I'm afraid Abbadon neglected to tell me he had someone dropping by to take him out." She muttered, chewing on her bottom lip to bite back another round of spiteful comments.

Returning to a more mature version of herself, she nodded her head toward the kitchen. "Since you came out all this way, I'd be happy to offer you a few drinks. You may as well stay for dinner, if you haven't already gotten a bite to eat." Peyton insisted, making her way toward the liquor cabinet and pulling down shot glasses.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 14, 2014 12:27 pm

Valafar's thick eyebrows raised in interest as Peyton turned to snap at Abbadon. [i]This should be nothing short of entertaining./i] Valafar mused to himself as listened to the edge in Peyton's words that lashed about like a sword. Abbadon had taken an unnatural liking towards the girl, and Valafar could tell something was stirring about and he had every intention of finding out what. "We usually head out to a bar a few towns every other Monday - I would assume it slipped his mind, it's become a bit of a routine." Valafar replied following Peyton with Abbadon sulking not far behind. "But lying has apparently been quite popular on the runways this year, it was all over Millan and Paris." he winked at her as he brushed himself past her, looking briefly at the bold choice Abbadon made by leaving the 'family' paintings up, especially when the patriarch's image didn't very much, or at all, through several centuries.

"I'm afraid I have, but I'd be happy to stay for a few drinks - scotch please."

Valafar had quite the talent when it came to causing trouble, he considered it a gift. He settled down onto the chaise in the parlor. The setting sun gleaming through the ceiling length windows and casting a warm glow over the house. "I assume Abbadon's told you about the history of the home? It's very interesting" Valafar chirped towards Peyton as he rested his arm along the wooden detail that ran the back of the chaise.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Fri Mar 14, 2014 1:14 pm

Peyton's fingers ran across a few different bottles of Scotch before she decided upon Bushmill's, a brand that never steered her wrong. Though she had not browsed the liquor cabinet before, Peyton felt entirely at ease. In her early twenties, she had a brief gig as a bartender which paid her way through school. Throughout the years, she became less enthused by sloppy drunks and eventually made her way into working as an artist full-time.

Pouring a double for Valafar, she snatched up a bottle of vodka and a shot glass for herself before bringing it with her into the parlor. Alcohol often served as her crutch, and with the shabby few days she had endured, she felt no remorse for indulging in its company this evening. After all, she was a grown woman and she could do as she pleased, even if that meant getting drunk off her ass.

She brushed past Abadon, giving him a less than enthused glance before offering the other gentlemen his drink. "I've been told some, though I haven't had an opportunity to get out and explore. Alas, I have been rather preoccupied here. At first I had every indication to believe it was linked to my skills in bed, as I'm quite good." She muttered matter-o-factly before tossing back her second shot of the evening. "But now I have begun to feel as an object, a regular ole house wife who is supposed to mind her p's and q's" She retorted in a faux southern accent.

Running her finger along the rim of her shot glass, Peyton glanced up toward the blonde before her, sizing him up. Valafar was tall, almost lanky. His piercing eyes were a green, similar in colour to hers, but much more intense. It looked as if he wore contacts, but she noticed on traces of them. His jaw was strong, hard, but the expression he wore was amused. Confident. He too held an air of arrogance about himself, as Abbadon did. The major differences between the two men were their attitudes in the moment; while Abbadon seemed to squirm, Valafar seemed to enjoy the tense atmosphere, as if he had not witnessed Peyton and Abbadon's light scuffle only moments earlier.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 14, 2014 1:44 pm

Valafar chuckled at how loose Peyton had become after one shot, humans rarely impressed him when it came to holding their liquor, but he supposed it could be more of a remark to test Abbadon. He decided that it was most likely a mix of the two.

"Oh well, we can't have that. You are far to beautiful to be locked up in such a dreary place." Valafar remarked, reaching over to take the glass of scotch with one hand and holding Peyton's hand up after to place a kiss on her knuckles. Valafar's eyes narrowed in on her waist, finding their way down to her legs as he sized up what kind of toy Abbadon had been playing with and trying to decide for himself if he'd make a pass at it. He couldn't say he believed that Abbadon would be amused, but it wasn't really about Abbadon, was it? Besides the demon had gone soft over the past century. He needed a little something to harden him and show him exactly why they picked humans off like flies. Humans were not their equals. They were far beneath them. Valafar was quite certain of the reason they had been put in front of him, especially ones like Peyton with ample asses and bosoming busts. The only thing standing in his way was Abbadon. Just lure the little lamb away Valafar's twisted version of a conscious urged him, she didn't seem very eager to stay by his side at the moment anyway and after a few more drinks...

"You should get out and look around, the beast can't keep you in here forever." Valafar took a drink of his scotch while running his foot over the faded oriental rug under his feet. "I'm sure he told you about the most interesting piece of history that, arguably, happened here." He asked casually, casting a glance over at Abbadon to ensure he was pressing the right buttons.


Abbadon sulked in his arm chair, his attention was placed neither on Valafar or Peyton at first. He could feel the web he had created starting to cling to him, starting to compress. It wasn't something that there was an easy way out of either. His eyes dug into Valafar, watching as he eyed Peyton with her back turned, the way so many demons would. Like she was his dinner, something he was going to take to bed, tear limb from limb, and pick his teeth with her chewed bones. He could see Valafar's intentions exactly. His hands dug into the wooden arms of the chair so heavily that the wood was starting to warp under his hands. A heavy breath and tight jaw showed his displeasure at the story he knew Valafar was about to elaborate on.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Fri Mar 14, 2014 2:00 pm

As Valafar pressed his lips against Peyton's pale, supple skin, she glided a finger against the slight stubble growing along his jawline. It was more of a dig at Abbadon than anything else, really. She could have several more shots before the alcohol took over and diminished her control. This was merely a direct result of the of attention Abbadon had failed to give her as of late. He had been desperately hot and cold, as if he himself could not size up what his own feelings were, and what their "relationship" should entail.

Petyon tilted her head slightly as Valafar vaguely entranced her. Anything historically brilliant caught her attention. In fact, she had actually minored in history while she had been in school. It was one of the main reasons she had allowed Abbadon to whisk her away into a foreign world. The adventure and possibilities to study up on many of the historical milestones that engulfed the South had been impossible to pass up.

"I am not quite sure. Do tell me, what are the most fascinating and scandalous occurences around here? I myself am a native of the North, and I dare say we don't interest me too much. The South is much more barbaric and full of less than glamorous walks of life." She insisted, bringing her shot glass to her lips for a third time.

It was then that she caught Abbadon tensing in the armchair a few feet away from the blonde pairing. He seemed in much distress, something that stirred both pity and pleasure within her. It was nothing, she was sure, compared to the confusion and betrayal she felt. She may as well take a history lesson and piss him off simultaneously. In due time Peyton would have done so anyway, why not kill two birds with one stone?

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 14, 2014 2:38 pm

"It was a dark and dreary night..." Valafar said with a laugh, kicking back the rest of his drink and setting the glass on the table.

"It's said it happened on a warm summer night, the air was heavy and sticky because of thunderstorms early in the day. Cricket chirps and bullfrog croaks gave way to the sound of horse shoes rounding to the front of the house. The master of the house, Mr. Abbadon, family name, Solace, was having a few friends over to play cards, drink, and have a good time, which was a rather big deal. You see - the house had always had quite the reputation - many people have come through the heavy wrought iron gates, but not as many have walked out."

Valafar paused to look at Abbadon for approval and input, he was met with disdain which pleased him all the more.

"The slaves had cooked up a meal, chicken fricassee if I do recall correctly, and left it in the kitchen, per request of the master of course, and headed back to their quarters. And the guests, especially the women, did arrive in an especially uplifted mood, it a bit of a pre-wedding party - since Mr. Solace was set to be marched down the aisle a few days later, and the women who were attending may of had a little bit of a head start on the drinking. All except for one, Evelyn Louiviere, the bride-to-be, Abbadon had taken quite a liking to her and everyone could see why, those burnette curls contrasted on her skin to starkly, dark eyes that still managed to light up the entire room, and perfect pert lips."

His voice rose and fell in all the right places, he was a great and elaborate story teller. His attention was perfectly divided in making sure he dug at Abbadon every chance he could, while assuring that Peyton's interest was wrapped up in the story. Valafar took his glass, grabbing Peyton's on the way, over to the bar, examining the bottle of scotch that Peyton had poured his drink from and quickly comparing the alcohol content to that of the others and reaching for one with a 2% higher brew, pouring them each a glass.

"The group played and drank until the candles burned out, eventually calling the house maid to go find more, but most of the guests had decided it was time to part ways since it must of been the wee hours of the morning. The guests dwindled down until it was just Abbadon and Evelyn with another couple, of my household actually, since it would of been considered highly improper for the bride and groom to be to be left alone, especially at 2AM a few days before their wedding - not that improper was past Mr. Solace, but it was past Evelyn."

He handed Peyton her drank before resuming his seat across from them on the chase, his eyes momentarily turned towards the flickering fire that illuminated the room from the fireplace.

"That is where the rumors come in, legend vs. fact. Unfortunately it would appear that everyone who could of told us what happened lips are sealed, dead men tell no tells."


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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Fri Mar 14, 2014 3:01 pm

The story wound on, nothing standing out of place until Valafar dropped the name pair Abbadon Solace. Though she knew the plantation had been in Abbadon's family for generations, and it was not an uncommon practice to name your children after their departed ancestors, it raised her suspicions once again. Had it not been for the peculiar nature of Abbadon around the antique home, she would not have begun to play into conspiracy theories.

She offered Valafar an inticing smile as he returned with both of their glasses. She was eager for him to resume the retelling of the house's history. It came as no surprise to her that the two men's lineage crossed paths so many years ago. Louisiana was once a small civilization, and if their families were anything like the two men before her, she understood why they kept acquaintences.

Peyton marvelled over the idea of such things before raising her voice. "I cannot fathom two families staying in contact with one another over the course of so many years. The longest I have known someone to stay in contact with was for three generations. That ended when my fiance ended up in bed with my best friend. A cat fight, a busted lip and a black eye later, her ass was grass." She mused, bringing the glass of golden liquor to her lips and sipping now.

Scraching her head, she shoved the glimpse of vulnerability to the side. "Please, tell me more. What happened of the two couples?" Peyton questioned, leaning forward onto her knees. She was, in a childlike manner, drawn in by Valafar's exceptional storytelling and alluring voice.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 14, 2014 3:53 pm

"Well it wasn't a very large town then and I suppose they just decided to stay put, it's a beautiful area and they were high society - can't exactly point fingers." Valafar purred sipping from his drink.

"You look tense, you should really have a drink." Valafar sympathetically remarked to Abbadon. "Should I get you one?"

"No thank you." Abbadon spat out, his jaw locking back to the tight position it was in before. It hurt enough for him to relive his own memories, but he could at least lie to himself about them for a while. To hear Valafar recount the night felt like a hot knife twisted into his gut which only became worse with every word.

"Suit yourself..." Valafar replied as he turned back towards Peyton.

"As I'm sure you've caught on, The Solace family are quite unforthcoming, and rumor holds that a few remarks that were rather curt were made. The men lost their tempers in a most unhuman way. Some say they turned into literal monsters....entire teeth sharpened into fangs like a hellhound's, wings like a bat spanning several meters, forked tongue and eyes like snake with saliva dripping off of every sharpened tooth"

His eyes peered over Peyton's head to lock with Abbadon's, making sure every word that would follow was branded in.

"The room were sitting in was ransacked, the chandelier shattered, the windows were broken, the doorway was ripped from the frame, the whole place was turned upside down not a single piece of furniture from the room wasn't destroyed. Evelyn and her friend were flat against the wall, in total shock of what they were witnessing, until her friend decided to make a move to run. The movement caught the eye of the monsters. The screeching and screaming could be heard across the swamp it was so loud, but the screams only fueled the mad creatures. Eveyln is said to have had her throat ripped out by Abbadon, she was still alive and blood spurted across the walls, her heart kept beating for several minutes after - she must of been conscious as well, apparently the bite hadn't been far enough back to get the jugular - just to cause massive bleeding. Abbadon finally came around as the sun started to break and rose to see the mess that the night before had created, to see his bride to be laying in the floor in a puddle of her own blood - cold, dead, and hardly what could be considered a body. The legend said that that so much blood had poured out of her little body that it soaked into the floors and it never came out."

Valafar leaned onto the chaise and finished his drink, tapping his foot on the rug as he walked about the blood stains.

"Abbadon killed her. Murdered her in cold blood. Could you imagine having such a ghastly death at the thing that had vowed to protect you and love you? The same creature that had stroked your head and kissed your hand while you walked alongside the lake only a night before? Eveyln's dress was blood soaked and ripped to shreds, most of it tossed at varying places around the room, in rigor mortis she clutched to the last bit of fabric she had to cover her breasts. Her entrils were ripped out, and even through all the blood her cheeks were tear stained, bite marks covered her porcelain skin, except there was hardly an inch that hadn't been bruised or ripped off. Bones were poking of the flesh where she had been thrown around like a toy and blood had been dripping down her thighs - so it's only imaginable what else happened. After that, apparently Abbadon locked himself up in the house and never left."

He let the first sentance sink in. He loathed the fact that Abbadon had even a hint of a soul. That was not what he was here for and Valafar wanted to make damn sure he knew it. They were here to kill, rape, and rule. They did not exist to coddle lost girls, to promise them the world on a silver platter. He thought he had taught him this lesson with Evelyn, he hoped the story would serve as a reminder about the fate Peyton would share.

"Of course, that's only the legend. I suppose not a single soul knows what actually happened. What we do know, without doubt, is that the only one to be seen leaving the estate in the passing days was the one that belonged to my household, Abbadon walled himself up in the house, and Evelyn died. It's presumed that the slaves were killed and burnt, as no bodies were ever recovered and large fires with an accompanying smell of burning flesh were witnessed in the next few days... Eveyln is actually buried outback, you should visit her grace - I'm sure Abbadon would love to show you - he takes great pride in the history of the estate."

He cleared his throat and took another look at Abbadon who sat with a look that could turn anyone to stone, jaw clenched so tight it's a suprise his teeth weren't peeling out.

"You have to be careful with these Solace men. They're quite secretive and they've had more than enough time to fill the closest of this house with skeletons."

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Fri Mar 14, 2014 4:20 pm

Peyton was floored. The story that seemed like something straight from a fairy tale ended up with the brutal slaying of people, and the depressed demise of a young man from the Solace family. The description of the beautiful Evelyn matched the woman's painting that Abbadon had lied about, hidden, and Peyton had recovered today to an absolute T. It fluttered curiosity and insecurity within her. It made the utmost sense as to why he had been so protective and secretive about the woman's portrait.

She glanced toward Abbadon occasionally throughout the retelling of history, noticing how remarkable it had impacted him. Valafar, making eye contact with Abbadon, and how his lips would pull up into the slightest sneer whenever he got a rouse out of the plantation owner. While the story seemed so surreal, things began to fall into place. One claim to the next, she slowly felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

Peyton set the glass still halfway full of scotch onto the coffee table before her, suddenly feeling ill. She would blame it on her heavy drinking and lack of food, as the more obvious, yet impossible option laid out via Valafar's remarkably well drawn legend crept up and began sounding alarms in her mind. She was a clever woman, however, and kept her face from giving way any unwarranted expressions she may have felt.

She shook her head slowly, in disbelief of the tragedy that had unfolded. "That's terrible.. I can't fathom being so close to the idea of love and happiness, only to have it end in a brutal murder." Peyton chimed quietly. Retrieving her drink once more, she rose, prepared to make her way into the kitchen for a non-alcoholic beverage. "I suppose it's a good thing I don't believe in love, hmm?" She asked quietly, casting Abbadon a forlorn glance.

Peyton hesitated in the doorway before setting her sights on their guest. "I'm quite tired, but I insist you drop by again sometime. Soon. I have quite enjoyed your company. It's delightful to hear the history of this town from yet another long standing family's point of view." She insisted, offering him a gentle smile before silently drifting into the kitchen for a bit of consolation and a bottle of juice.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Thu Mar 20, 2014 5:33 am

"Yes, I think it's quite time that you go." Abbadon seethed as he rose up from his chair, leaving indentations of his hands where the wood had warped under his grip. He ushered Valafar towards the entry way, opening the door before Valafar had even put on his jacket.

"Maybe I should of been handing you the scotch - you look tense." Valafar retorted with a cheeky smile as he slipped his arm through the dark wool pea coat. His expression indicated that he nothing short of entertained. "Oh! Relax!" he defended when Abbadon's glare failed to soften at his joke. "She won't figure it out, the last one didn't." He smoothed the wrinkles of the chest out before stepping towards the door. "Besides, even if she did it's nothing we couldn't take care-"

Abbadon slammed the heavy door in Valafar's face, the sound echoing through the home and the force making the paintings in the hall shake. He paused considering what he his next move would be. He knew Peyton had it in for him over the painting, the best he could hope for was that she was too intoxicated to take it up with him right now.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Thu Mar 20, 2014 7:00 am

Peyton sat leaning against the bed whilst idly spinning her bottle of juice on worn hardwood floor when the slamming of a door sounded. She wasn't quite sure if the pent up anger Abbadon harbored was toward herself or their now departed guest, but knew either way she would feel some of Abbadon's wrath. He had a knack for projecting his feelings onto her. However, it was a strange and an inconceivable notion that the man was capable of feeling anything at all. Quite frankly, she had begun to think he had no conscience, or at least not when it came to her. No apology felt sincere. No nice gesture went on long before it was sabotaged by another uncalled for bout of anger or brooding.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know who was on the other side of the door turning the knob. The quiet, barely there sounds of Abbadon's footsteps no longer crept up on her. He treaded lightly for a large man, but she had come to pick up on the subtle shifting. "If you've come to yell at me for being a bitch, don't. You more than deserved it and I am really not in the mood to get into it tonight." She muttered, her tone biting. Peyton grabbed the still bottle and spun it once again, watching it become an orange blur.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she stared blankly at his feet. She was waiting to see if he was going to slither off quietly to sulk as usual, or if he would offer some form of explanation or a sincere enough apology. The apologizing act was beginning to get old though -- and fast. She just felt.. tired. "What am I even doing here?" Peyton questioned softly, offering him a dismal smile. "Aren't you tired of this? Fighting? What's the point?" She mused aloud, pushing herself up onto her feet and setting the bottle down onto the nightstand.

Peyton walked toward the wardrobe and began searching for a nightgown. "What are we, Abbadon? A couple? Friends with benefits? Are you my sugar daddy?" She questioned, stripping down and pulling the silky purple gown over her head. "Because you are the king of mixed signals, and you never fail to leave me utterly confused. One moment you're intimate with me, and the next you're freeze me out." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I just want to know what this is. So either you make up your mind, or I will for you." She whispered, finally allowing herself to make eye contact with him.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Thu Mar 20, 2014 7:58 am

Abbadon sighed heavily as he leaned against the door frame. "I wasn't going too." He replied in an exhausted tone. He wasn't sure he had the energy to go over this tonight. He felt eeirly calm, like the eye of a tornado. He stepped towards the bed frame, running a hand over the carved posts, examining them, before sitting down on the edge.

His hands picked at the embroidery on the the duvet as he thought about the situation."I don't mean to freeze you out." He started, his eyes looking up at her momentarily before they cast back down the bed. "I've always been a loner, I have a lot of thoughts and scenarios that I entertain in my head and I just get lost in them. I become preoccupied on trivial, minuscule things. It's not something you should take personally." He had plenty of centuries to accumulate thoughts, memories, ideas, and almost as long to simmer on them. His mind was always at his most vibrant at his home where he was surrounded by everything he valued. "I know it's not you - it's me. I'm a difficult person to live with."

He wasn't sure what answer to give her when Peyton asked what he considered them to be. There was more to that decision than he cared to reveal to her. A long broken heart that was weighted with more guilt than Peyton could ever imagine, his uncertainty as to whether or not he was selfish enough to put Peyton's life in danger to keep her, if he was willing to play an on going game and be untruthful to her - it wasn't like he could or would tell her the truth. "Lovers" He replied with hesitation, hoping that the answer would satisfy her for now.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Thu Mar 20, 2014 1:05 pm

Lovers.

Abbadon had said it with such certainty, as if the answer were obvious. Clearly the only sure one between the two of them was himself.

Peyton mulled over the word, weighing it uncertainly in her mind due to it's multiple meanings it tended to carry. She finally reached a verdict -- to just accept word and remember to ask for the terms and conditions later. There was nothing more than she wanted than for this tumultuous nightmare to end. If she hadn't known any better, she would presume the man was bipolar as fast as he swung from hot to cold.

She finally realized that his eyes had never left her face, watching intently, reading any movement that would give way her feelings toward this particular conversation. It was something he had become quite good at, reading her expressions, and often times she felt like a specimen under a microscope. She didn't enjoy feeling as if she were being evaluated constantly, so whenever he ceased to scrutinize every little thing she did, she would eventually find time to relax. The constant analysis left her feeling mentally exhuasted.

"Okay." Peyton murmured, the sound almost inaudible. She wasn't upset -- about this conversation anyway. She still needed answers, but that was for another day, not one already filled to the brim with anger and now plenty of alcohol. She knew very well how that would end up -- the two of them would go right back to living in a never-ending pissed off state of confusion. They seemed to find themselves in said predicament quite often, either due to his pathological lying, or the less than reliable emotional state he rested in.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she glanced down at her toes. "Are you going to be here in the morning? Waking up alone in this big house with just your thoughts isn't exactly glamourous. "What did Peyton do to piss Abbadon off" has been the one I gravitate to most often. The possibilities are endless.." She murmured.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 21, 2014 10:29 am

"I'm not going anywhere."

Abbadon reached out for Peyton's hand, running his thumb along her knuckles before squeezing it reassuringly. The deafening silence the antebellum home carried left a person alone with their thoughts for too long and it was enough to drive anyone mad. He knew that well enough for himself, which was why he was so often found wandering off.

"Not tonight, not next week, not in a month, a year, I'm here as long as you want to be here." He raised her hand to his lips, kissing a silver filgree ring that he had purchased for her at their earlier visit to an antique store. "I promise." His lips brushed the top of Peyton's hand before he let it fall back to her side.

It wasn't that Abbadon didn't care for her, he did. He feared his own actions. He wanted to keep her safe, but the only way to do that would be to drive her away and he knew he was too selfish to do that.

Abbadon placed his hands on Peyton's hip, the silk fabric was still cool but her skin was warm underneath. The amber light emanating from the globe lamps flicked off the smooth finish, jumping from one tightly woven thread to the next and back again with every minuscule movement, like a small fire had been lit and snuffed out. "Purple is your color." He remarked, his eyes breaking away from the trance he found himself in.

A small silence fell between them, it wasn't awkward but it was uncomfortable. A silence that told Abbadon that Peyton felt uneasy, she knew that there was more than he would divulge to her. He bit his lip, worried she would look for answers on her own and find out too much but he knew she would doubt her own sanity before she headed down that path.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Fri Mar 21, 2014 11:14 am

Peyton fumbled with the hem of Abbadon's button down as he vowed quietly not to leave her. The pledge seemed authentic enough to her, but a new can of worms had been open and her trust issues had returned. Far too many times had he pulled the rug out from under her, and she refused to be a fool and allow them to occur again and again. She had placed far too much faith in this man in recent times, and it had been finding ways to bit her in the ass. Besides, who knew what the vow meant anyway? She still wasn't fully aware of what his take of "Lovers" was.

She offered him a small smile as he complimented her. "You look good in everything." Peyton insisted, running her fingers through his hair. The silence had been uneasy, weighing heavily in the room and making it almost difficult to breathe. She forced herself to push past the "story" Valafar had reiterated for her tonight, knowing she would get no where with Abbadon even if she poked and pried. She would have to take matters into her own hands, invest in Valafar's expertise and do her own bit of investigative work, but not tonight.

Peyton bit her lip uneasily, wondering if she should even bother following through with the thought that popped into her head. "Are you seeing someone else?" She questioned, insecure. "I mean, while I've thought sex has been pretty great, you're no where to be found in the morning, let alone still in bed with me.. If you are, that's fine. I just would like to know." She shifted uncomfortably, insecurity creeping up again.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Fri Mar 21, 2014 11:33 am

Abbadon's attention perked up immediately as Peyton's voice broke the silence. He was thankful. He listened to her concerns, his fingers still ruffling with the fabric between his thumb and index finger. "It would absolutely not be fine if I was seeing someone else." He cleared his throat before he spoke, but his voice still had a rasp to it.

It was hard enough for one woman to win him over, let alone multiple ones at the same time. He doubted that any two women would even have the tolerance to put up with for any amount of time, but that was besides the point. He was old fashioned.

"I'm not seeing anyone else, you're the only one. I would never do that."

His hand slid to the small of her back and pulled Peyton closer to him. "I wake up early, I just went out for a walk." He murmured, leaving a soft kiss on Peyton's collar bone. Even while sitting, he had a significant height jump on her. "Usually though, I'm in my room or the study. I have trouble sleeping. I'll never be too far away though." He added, pushing one of Peyton's curls behind her ear.

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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Sat Mar 22, 2014 4:06 am

Peyton rested her face against his palm, her head was easily cupped by his large hand. She had a generally average sized frame, but next to Abbadon she seemed very petite. That was also synonymous with her personality. While she was generally too much of a handful for most men, he seemed to enjoy the challenge that she sometimes presented. That was likely due to his overbearing, domineering personality. She wasn't phased by it all too often, but the occasional comment struck a nerve within her, and off went her head.

Sighing heavily, Peyton gently pulled away from Abbadon. "I'm going to draw a little and then go to bed." She murmured, leaving it entirely up to him as to whether or not he would stick around through the night with her. Her tone, while slightly dismissive, did not reflect the confusion she felt toward him. Quite frankly, she didn't know if she preferred he leave her alone with her thoughts tonight or not. Either she would sit and let it bubble up again, or come to an appropriate way to manage her beliefs while also finding answers to her many questions.

She grabbed her sketchpad and metal tin of charcoal pencils from the top of the chaise lounge near the window. She had sat drawing with an idle mind earlier that morning, watching the rain pour down from the sky and plummeted against the earth. There had been a constant course of ripples from the pelting of water droplets rolling off of a nearby plant and onto a concrete fountain. The scene was far too beautiful not to draw, and it was permanently etched into her memory.

She leaned against several piled up pillows and pulled her knees up to her chest. She improvised and used them as a table, something she regularly did whenever she had an itch to stay up late and continue to work on something that ceased to leave her mind. She was frequently plagued with images that begged to be put down on paper before the minute, intricate details could slip from her mind.

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Re: Saints - Take 3

Post  Chelsea<3 on Sun Mar 23, 2014 9:04 am

Abbadon pushed himself to the top of the bed and sunk into the pile of pillows that gathered at the headboard. The rain started to pelt down, soft and steady, bouncing off the roof and onto the window in a rhythmic manner. It rained almost everyday there in the warmer months, if you didn't end up caught in a mid afternoon shower then it was all but guaranteed to rain all night.

It cooled the air outside, a gray fog engulfing the grass and slowly rolling into the garden, fighting it's way through the dense hedges. The lights from the house reflected onto the tiny drops of moisture, glimmering like thousands of minuscule candles so crisp you could make out the room if you knew what piece of furniture was casting what shadow. It reminded Abbadon of the shadow puppets he had seen kids make, contorting their fingers and having their friends shout names of animals until one finally got it. He examined one of the shadows, tall and lean, it grew out of proportion with the chandelier in the living room back lighting it. The top of the shadow was distorted, spiraling in several directions before the points all bent in to themselves.

The grandfather clock Abbadon stated in his head, an amused huff accompanied his thought. He thought it was interesting how the shadow of something so harmless could look so macabre to someone who didn't know what it really was, and the thought that naturally followed was how something so terrible could blend right in with the harmless objects who only cast a frightening shadow.

Abbadon shook the thought off, knowing that he concentrated on it far too much and far too often. Peyton's scrawling hand caught his eye, he liked who her hand glided across the paper - freely, with no restraint or hesitation as if she wasn't making the marks for the first time but was following a well worn path with certainty. He'd occasionally lose sight of the picture, Peyton's hand casting a shadow over what he was looking at, but it was never more than a minute before the lines peeked out of the darkness. He found it relaxing to watch Peyton do something so effortlessly and so well.

His eyes squinted through the dim light trying to guess what she was sketching. He ran through the pattern in his head, unable to pick out the object from the work that had been done so far. "I'm going to go to bed." He finally gave in and quit his guessing game. The floor creaked under his weight as he stood up to stretch. "You can join me when you're done if you want." He kissed the top of Peyton's head, his hand followed, smoothing out any hair he had displaced. It lingered as well, he ran his fingers through her curls, any tangles gently parting until he got to the ends. "I'd like it if you did." He added with a tired smile. A light on the first floor flickering on and off without reason as he stepped out of the room.

Abbadon stepped carefully on the floor as he left, he knew the creaks of the old house and it was second nature to avoid them at this point. The once vibrant red rug in the hallway looked worn out, many paths had been worn on it and the color had been sun-bleached to a dull scarlet. Several of the paintings had the same worn out look, the painting had long been dried and the sun was causing the layers of paint to crack even more. The floorboards had a dark stain to them, a strong contrast to the off-white walls, but they showed their age too - the rivets on the nails had been worn flat and the floor itself had an unnaturally smooth finish that only came with centuries of being tread on. The home had a classic, timeless beauty though, and despite the age of the objects, none of them looked out of place in the grandeur architecture the home had, each and every object look like it belonged and had always been there - placed with the most tender care.

The iron hinges of the carved door to the spiral staircase creaked open. It looked plain from the bottom of the narrow and steep stairs. The walls were made of horse hair plaster, they were painted what at one time may have been a royal blue but time had aged them to a dark, dusty midnight. The stairwell was plain - no decoration and only a small circle window at the top let light into the musty space. It lead to another smaller, less elaborate door - just a rounded door with a carved edge and a glass door knob. Abbadon's bedroom was messy to say the least, old leather and wooden trunks were stacked on top of each other, a sheet was tossed over a couple of the chests with candelabras, small metal sculptures, or skulls of some sort to weigh them down. Though one chest in particular stood alone from the rest with no clutter. The walls were a golden brown, but for some reason seemed much darker than they were. The canopy around the bed was thick with heavy red curtains draping around the top, the duvet matched and the sheets were cotton - a light gray. Books in foreign languages with their long, odd names spiraled down the side in gold letters were stacked at the corners to the height of a night stand before another stack began right beside them. Even the marble fireplace across from the bed wasn't safe from the knickknacks that covered the room, the mantle was dotted with worldly trinkets and a candle stand at each end that had long necklaces draping over them and casting shadows onto the lion heads carved in the to stone and glimmering in reflection in the standing mirror set just to the side. Poetically chaotic.

Abbadon stripped his shirt, making minimal effort to toss it into the ensuite bathroom where the rest of his clothes had piled. He wondered if Peyton would venture up to his room tonight, or if she would fall asleep with charcoal in hand. He stretched out on the bed, it was one that more accommodating to someone of his height. He couldn't help his eyes flickering around the room while the lights caught on any reflective surface, glistening like room filled with treasure - which is was to him. Despite the chaotic appearance of the room, it didn't carry the musky odor of the stairwell, it smelled light and fresh, like rosewater, floral and crisp.


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Saints - Take 3

Post  AshBash on Sun Mar 23, 2014 9:49 am

Peyton nodded silently, intent on the pad of paper overtaken with strokes and smudges of charcoal. The fountain casting shadows throughout the garden had too breath taking of an image not to put onto paper. She had yet to decide who she would gift it to, or if she would stow it away in her own personal portfolio, a booklet of sketches that held a special place in her heart that no price tag could swindle them away from her.

Her gaze shifted up toward Abbadon's face - gentle, but the tight, fine lines around his eyes gave way of how stressed he was - when he mentioned he would enjoy her company that night. It caught her off guard entirely, the invitation into the man cave he warned her never to enter on their first day on site. He had been strangely overprotective of his living quarters and advised her, as well as the workers, not to disturb the room in any manner. A "No ifs, ands, or buts" clause was silently stapled to the very specific order.


She continued to sketch a bit, though her mind went wandering into his room, reawakening the details from when she set his laundry just inside the doorway after she had tripped over it walking down the hallway. Peyton recalled the orange tabby sticking his nose into things and disrupting a few trinkets on a dresser, leaving is mark along the top with the remnants of muddy tracks from his large paws. The room had been beautiful, other worldly. It felt as if she had stepped into a disorderly storage room for a museum.

She realized that instead of pushing forward on the piece of artwork at had, there had been a heavy repetition of a few lines on the pad, much darker strokes in this particular area than the rest of her work. She closed the hard backed sketchpad with a quiet thud before she tossed the charcoal into the metal tin, rattling the pencils around, the only sounds in the room with her since the rain had ceased to fall.

Peyton darted into the adjoining bathroom to scrub the charcoal from her hands. The black markings on the sides of her hands had become a comforting sight to her, and sometimes seemed to be permanently etched into her skin from tedious days of laboring. She didn't want to leave behind the typical black smudges anywhere in the home. It was far too old and precious to mark or change anything from its original condition. After examining her hands and becoming satisfied that they were clean, she began her journey down the long, dark hallway.

The eerily quiet home often times found a way of causing her severe anxiety. She had been a huge fan of sleeping with the radio on at night, but fought her habit tooth and nail since her stay with Abbadon. Her fingers brushed lightly along the walls, using them for guidance and support while she eased herself down the clouded hallway.

Peyton finally reached the end of the hall, her hands coming to rest along a cold, heavy wooden door. She chewed on her lip while standing in front of it, unsure if she should knock or just push her way in. She knew he had given her the go-ahead, but being allowed into his bedroom was still such a foreign concept to her, especially peculiar after a night of fighting. Finally, she raised her dainty fingers and knocked quietly, simultaneously turning the doorknob.

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