forum A Game of Cards.... ((One on One// PRIVATE//CLOSED))

Started October 28, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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Winnie wasn't going to lie to herself. He did worry her a bit. But she couldn't help but feel a small spark of satisfaction at his irritation, not matter the dangerous similarity of poking a bear. Well, I'd might as well see how dangerous he really is, while i'm at it. She thought as she looked over him with bored eyes. "No." she quipped. She then turned and stalked towards the cart, checking the medicines. "Just because you could be easily sniffed out with your prissy and pompous attitude, does not mean I should lay my cards out on the table now does it?"

Marcus remained silent for one, two, three seconds. Then he burst out laughing. The laughter filled the room, not quite directed at her, but not as if he was laughing with her either. “You’re feisty. I like that. Much better than the last one, she was a half-dead crime with no sense of humour.” He grinned, but it was the sort of grin a predator gave its prey while luring it down a dark hole under the false pretense of safety. “If I can’t scare you away, we might as well have some fun. And I’m not taking that medication.”

Winnie faltered, worry creasing her brow as she looked back at the boy. He is truly unstable… she shuddered and placed the bottles down after inspection. And these are no help.. Who gave him these prescriptions anyway? Had he been tested? She would have to take these questions to Lord Crenshaw later. She lifted her brown eyes to him. "What type of fun?" she asked carefully. Just because he didn't outright strangle her didn't mean they were friends. Winnie didn't trust him in the slightest.

(Same omg also sherlock is lifeee)

Marcus just raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, leaving her question unanswered. “The medication is useless. Unbalances me more. Drugs, however, proper ones, work just fine when injected into my bloodstream or taken in through methods of smoking.” He was an addict and he knew it, but he didn’t particularly care. Anything to give him pleasure while keeping his mind sharp. “Would the lady like a hit?”

Her eyes widened with shock. "No, the lady would not." she replied sharply, tensing as her fingers curled into fists. How could he even suggest such a thing. "That's most likely harming you more than its helping you. Those drugs could be highly-" She was cut off. Someone knocked at the door. In the heat of oncoming rage, she threw the door open to reveal the footman with her things. With wide eyes like her own just moments ago, her struggled to hand her a key. The key to her room which, Lord help her, was connected to Lord Marcus's. She ushered the footman in, unlocked the door to her room, and let him set her things down. She would unpack once she found out how to put this demon to sleep. She hardly felt comfortable turning her back on him for mere moments, much less unpack her personal items with nothing but a measly door separating them. She kept narrowed eyes on him until the footman left, disappointed with the lack of a tip, and locked the door to her room once more.

Marcus grinned at her back as he watched her go, amused. Lady Winnifred. Interesting. he could see why his uncle had chosen her, she was stubborn and fierce, not likely to back down. Fun to tease as well. Maybe he would surprise her by smoking until she re-entered his room, thag would be fun.

Marcus pressed on a hidden panel of the wall, which popped forward and slid to the side to reveal a hidden cache of drugs. A minute later, and he was inhaling the wonderful smoke of a new find, filched off of a dealer he’d left dead in an alleyway.

Returning to the room, Winnie pocketed the key as she opened the door again. "Now, as I was say-" She broke off into a coughing fit. The room was filled with smoke and she fought desperately to see Marcus, or at least the fire. But she found no fire, and through the horrid stench, she found Marcus. He doing it to spite you… she told herself matter-of-factly. Once she got her coughing under control she pinned with a deadly glare. "Very well then…" she said hoarsely through gritted teeth. "We can play this game…" She then turned to leave the room.

Marcus burst out laughing again, taking another deep drag. “You’re scared!”, he called after her, amused. “This is gojng to be fun, dear lord.” The smoke was beginning to make him feel loopy, he swayed a bit in his seat.

(gtg for tonight, Ill be back in the morning)

Night!

Rolling her eyes, Winnie got a bucket of water and returned to the room. She put it down before she threw a window open and looked back at Marcus. She grabbed the bucket once more and approached his slowly. "Put that thing out right now…" she growled.

(Morning)

Marcus raised an eyebrow, regarding her with amusement and slight disdain. “And why should I? I outrank you, I can do whatever I want.” He spoke in a lazy drawl, as if he thought she was hardly worth his government, but his posture was all careful poise, coiled up like a gambler before he makes his winning guess.

She scoffed. "I don't care who you are! You. Will. Not. Defile my air." she stated. "Put. It. Out." she demanded. "Or I will do it for you." She refused to continue to breath this abomination in. Not like Papa did… Not like Jacob did…

Marcus shrugged, an almost elegant movement, but despite his casual air, his eyes were sharp. “Put it out. I dare you.” He put the joint in his mouth, grinning like the devil.

She smiled like the cheshire cat. "Very well, then." She threw the water unto him. After he was drenched, she dropped the bucket and plucked the joint from his mouth. "As my patient, my main priority is your physical health. I don't care about your pleasure in the least." she said sharply. "And lets get one thing straight now…" she leans towards him. She had never, in her entire life, met someone so unbecoming. Even her disgusting father and idiotic brother were gentlemen at some points. Marcus was nuisance on many levels and she would stop tolerating him this minute. Her patiences as out like a candle in howling winds. Rolling up her sleeves and she sat beside him, the bed whining slightly under her weight. "I am not your friend. At all." she seethed, leaning close until they were nose with nose. "You are not my employer. I will not bow to you."

(This is so fun omg. I promise Marcus will stop being stupid soon and will not be an abusive lover. He’s just very insane and unwell lol)

Marcus, sopping wet but not without dignity, gave her a twisted grin. A part of him was filled with a burning rage, because how dare she? Most of him was filled by a buzzing curiosity. No one had ever defied him before, not like this. It was refreshing, actually, to be face-to-face with someone who wasn’t afraid of him, someone who saw him as an equal rather than a superior. Not that he was complaining about his position, being the son of a Lord, even a deceased one, came with many welcomed privileges, but if he was going to be babysat by a woman approximately his age, better a stubborn, feisty one than a terrified, shaking wreck. “I would rather you didn’t bow to me, actually, I have enough servants for that. And I completely agree with your statement on friendship, I’d really rather not get cozy and emotional with my babysitter.” He smirked slightly, shaking out his dripping hair and making sure some water droplets landed on her. “And I suppose I deserved that for the knife trick, but if I want to smoke then that’s my business not yours, as long as I don’t do it when you’re watching.”

(ya'know what, Marcus is perfect even with his stupidity)
Taken aback by his response, Winnie lost a little of her fire. She sat back, flinching from the water he flicked on her. "Uh… maybe that can be agreed upon." she agreed. She ignored the release in her stomach that followed. She'd thought her would lash out, aim for her throat or slap her across the face. That is what she had expected. But received none of that. Suddenly, she stood and moved towards the door. "You seem well enough to me…" she decided, smiling at his sodden state. "Well enough indeed, I think I shall retire from such an interesting evening. You should do the same, Lord Marcus…"

(lol thanks Winnie is amazing too)

Marcus laughed softly, almost languidly, but the look in his eyes was sharper than the blade he'dimbedded in his bedroom wall, cold and calculating with only the faintest spark of real warmth or happiness peeking out from the darkness of his irises. "You may retire if that pleases you, but I do not think I can say the same for myself." Not only were there much more important things at hand, like figuring out a way to assassinate his uncle and prove him guilty for the murder of his parents, but he was also an insomniac, and had a deep-seated fear of sleep and the night-terrors it would bring. Not that he was telling Lady Winnifred that.

She fished for her key. Once it was in her hands, she shrugged. "Very well." Turning from the man, she made her way to the door. "If you should need me… You know where I am. Good night." Winifred closed the door behind her and made her way to her own room. She unlocked the door and stepped in. When the doorman had deposited her things, she hadn't really look around. The room was polished and mystical. Almost celestial in its white coloring while bathing in the glow of the moon. It had that regal echo to it with a shimmering silk duvet on the large bed, peeking through light ivory curtains. Everything was in some shade of white, whether it was stark or creamy. Winifred couldn't deny its beauty.
She took her time unpacking, hanging her clothes in the large closet and putting a night gown to the side. Soo after she was bathed, dress, and yearning for sleep. But before she laid down. She sat at her vanity and removed her jewlery and hair pins. All the while, her interaction with Marcus played in her mind. As she brushed her long black hair, the ends tickling the bare skin of her thighs, she wondered what tomorrow could be like.

(you're such a good writer oh my god)

As soon as she was gone, Marcus sighed and pushed himself off the bed, shaking out his sopping hair again. His whole smooth, calculating demeanour dropped off him like a heavy cloak, easily shed, easily put back on, and he allowed his shoulders to relax as he made his way to the bathroom connected to his suite. Once in front of the polished mirror, he placed both hands on the sink and leaned his full weight onto it, impeccable back posture giving way to an exhausted slouch. He studied his face in the mirror, mind playing over the events of the day.

Moisture and water droplets still clung to his skin from the infuriating but hilarious attack on him, and water was currently dripping off of his chin and making a small puddle on the pristine white surface of the sink. There were dark bags under his eyes from nights of neglected sleep, and although he did not have a particularly pale complexion, he gave of the impression that he had been starved of sunlight and kept inside for days, which was not entirely true. He'd left the manor to visit a drug dealer and survey the knew weapons store a short walk from his house, but other than that he'd been indoors for the past week. His hair had been well-groomed before Winnifred had sloshed the bucket of water all over him, but now it was messy and weighed down by the moisture.

Marcus sighed and fished around for a fluffy white towel to dry himself with, and a half hour later he was dry, warm, in more casual clothing better suited for a nocturnal insomniac like him, and was sitting on his bed, trying to plot his uncle's murder.

((Pssssh You are too!!))

Winnie knew she was lingering too long. She looked into the mirror. She looked at herself. Running a hand down her cheek, she took in her tan complexion, long lashes, and tired brown eyes. He mother would condemn her for such a look.

What do you think your doing little girl? What are you trying to prove? Do you think your more beautiful than me? Do you think your more intelligent than me? Well know this, you're not! I promise you that when you grow up, you'll be warming beds just the same. I told you time and time again that you are not special, you are no different from the rest of us! Get those dreams out of your head! Here in the Lotus Blossom, we dream of men… and nothing more

Winifred wiped the tear before it could hit the shining mahogany of the vanity. She stood as dread curled in her stomach and moved to her bed. She was lucky, she told herself, that she got out of there in time. If she had stayed for even a month longer, her dreams for more in life would've been drowned. She would've been vain and bitter just like her mother.

"I made it out…" she told herself, slipping under the plush comforter. "I made it out…"

((A little backstory…))

(omg the feeeels its so good!)

Marcus sighed for the billionth time, rubbing his eyes and crossing out another well-organized plan. His pen made and aggravating scratching sound on the paper and he growled and crushed the piece of paper in his fist, tossing it off his bed and onto the floor to join the others. He ran both hands through his hair, gathering up fistfuls of black locks and keeping his hands rested on top of his head, his frustration welling up. In the back of his mind, the screams of his dying parents were stuck on replay, over and over and over again.

"Marcus, run!" The shriek of his mother split the air as the arm of his treacherous uncle roped its way around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing a knife to Lady Crenshaw's throat. "Mother!" Marcus leapt forward, fists clenched, desperation surging through him, but his father's sure hands pushed him back before he could reach either of them. "Run!" Fear and panic rising, Marcus grabbed hold of the nearest object, a porcelain vase, and made to throw it at his uncle, but Luc Crenshaw only sneered. (is his uncle's name okay?) "Throw that and I slit her throat." Marcus froze, eyes meeting the terrified ones of his mother. "Now back down, so I can claim your father's head."

Marcus shuddered, the awful memory filling him with loss, guilt, and revulsion for his last living relative. I am going to murder him. And if anyone tries to stop me I will put a f*cking bullet through their heart, even the stupid babysitter. That's when he heard it. A steady dripping of thick liquid, coming from right behind him. He swallowed turned, and blanched at the sight of blood dripping from the top of his canopy bed.

It's just a hallucination, only a hallucination., he told himself again and again, cold heart tremoring at the sight of it. Not again, not again, please not again. He squeezed his eyes shut.

(is my backstory okay?)

tank youuu

(( WARNING: This one is a little on the mature side…))

Winnie tried desperately to calm her thoughts, to get the past to ebb away, but it refused, it dragged her under once more. The air was stuffy and warm, the feeling of bodies writhing against her made her recoil.

Grunts and moans, screams and naughty giggles echoed from every corner. She was covered in finger-prints, touched by faces she'd never know. She was dirty, filthy… Worthless. She squeezed her eyes shut until it was over, it always came to an end. And it did soon. Another Unnamed sauntered out of the room, handing her mother a satchel of golden coins. And Winifred just laid there, cowering and covered in sweat and tears.

Winifred fought her sobs as she laid there, images flashing in her mind of what use to be home. What use to be her future. "I got out…" she cried hoarsely. Burying her face into the pillow, she allowed to tears to win. Sobs wracked through her. When was the last time she cried? Maybe it was the day she'd drugged that man, stolen his money, and left time. Left her cheating father, angry brother, and violent mother behind.

(oh my god I think I'm going to cry as well)

The sound of sobbing echoed softly from Winnifred's room and seemed to mingle with his own silent tears as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Blood dripped onto his shoulders, making his shoulders tremble and his hands shake. It ra down the sides of his head and over his closed eyelids, pooling on the cusp of his lip. Marcus opened his mouth to let out a tiny whimper, but as soon as his lips had parted the blood poured in. It was warm. It was sickly sweet. And a corner of his brain relished the taste of it. More, more, more! his mind screamed at him. NO!, he screamed back, doubling over and trying to wipe the blood away, afraid to open his eyes lest it blinded him.

But there was too much. It just kept coming, pouring into his mouth and down his throat, choking him until he leaned over the side of the bed and retched. A small part of him knew that it wasn't real, knew that he was just dry-heaving and nothing was coming out, knew that he was going insane, but he was too torn between gulping down the blood and spitting it back out. No, no, no–

Just as she began to hiccup, her chest knotting, she heard it. It was Marcus. Slowly, she sat up and listened, something clicking in her mind. That one part of her that made her good at what she did, that made her a doctor. She threw the covers from her and raced across the room. She couldn't hear perfectly but what she did hear was a little too familiar to the sound of choking. Maybe retching. Could he have overdosed? Had he eaten today? Was his body rejecting something he had taken? She scolded herself for not running a thorough check on her patient, just dismissing him with a smile and 'good night.' She wretched the door of his suite open and crossed the room in mere seconds. She was on her knees before him, checking his face. "Lord Marcus, can you speak to me?" She grabbed his chin and forced him to eye level with her. There was no throw-up, and his face wasn't changing color, so he wasn't choking. "Lord Marcus!" she yelled once more. She needed him to response.