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

Started October 28, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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(thanks)

Marcus couldn't see through the blood, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Through the murk and sickly stench he heard Winnifred's voice, felt her hands touch her face, and jerked back violently. Sh*t. Oh god no– He raised both hands to his eyes and wiped all the blood off, vision still slightly smudged with red. HIs dark eyes were wild, panicked, like a fierce lion when it has finally been cornered by the hunters. "Get away from me!, he yelled harshly, stumbling backwards. "Don't ever touch me like that without my permission or I swear I will kill you." Marcus turned and fled into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind him and pressing himself against it, shaking.

Winifred flinched away his outburst. It was what she had expected to happen, and here it was. She heard him run and lock himself in the bathroom. Don't ever touch me like that without my permission or I swear I will kill you. His words echoed in her mind, and she believed them. She wasn't sure how well she would follow that demand, but she believed his every word.
She rose slowly. "Master Marcus?" She said tentatively, she didn't to rile him anymore. "May…may you tell me what happened?" she asked. He seemed to have been hallucinating, acting upon things that were not there.

((SELF HARM TRIGGER WARNING))

Slumped against the bathroom door, Marcus brought his shaking hands up to his face and covered it with them, shoulders drawn up tight. He did not reply to her question, only sank down to the floor as blood continued to pool around him. I am going to murder my uncle., he promised himself again and again, his fingers relishing the touch of a leather-bound hilt, craving the cool touch of metal and the sweet kiss of the blade, the ruby-red blood that would slowly well up and drip to the floor, mingling with his hallucination. Blood. He needed real blood, trembled with longing to watch it gurgle out of his uncle's throat, hungered the carefully slice his own skin open and watch the crimson droplets form. Marcus rolled up his sleeves and ran his fingers lightly over the countless scars weaving their way up his forearms, wanting more, always wanting more. It was never enough.

Winifred sighed and moved closer to the door. "Lord Marcus…" she whispered. Oh, she was tired. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, and go back to her room. Instead, she gave the bathroom door a soft knock. "I am not leaving until you say something, anything remotely helpful. Just say your okay… and i'll- I'll go, I'll leave you be until morning." She pressed her back against the bathroom door. She had a feeling he wasn't going to answer. So, she got comfortable.

(OTHER TRIGGER WARNING)
Marcus growled under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. His right hand closed tightly over his left forearm, squeezing so tight that his nails split the skin and drew blood. Blood. At long last. He let his shoulders slump and relaxed against the door, relishing the pain, even though it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. "I am fine, thank you.", Marcus hissed at her through the door, feeling a twinge of guilt for being so sharp. She was only doing her job after all. The remorse evaporated like water under the sweltering July sun, quickly and finally, before long, leaving him with nothing but seething anger and determination. "Just leave me alone. That's an order."

She scoffed. "I told you, you're not my employer. He's the only one I take orders from." She replied. "I think I'll just wait her." She sighed, making no attempt to leave whatsoever. He wasn't going to chase her away, as was a common defense for those who were struggling. His denial sounded like a cry for help. Something she was all too familiar with.

(awwwww)

Stop bothering with me!, he wanted to scream at her. Marcus just wanted to be alone, to be with himself and himself only. He was wasting precious time, every second that slipped by with his uncle still alive and flourishing was a disgrace to his family name, an irreplaceable crime against his parents. They are gone because of him. And now she's here, stopping me from working, because of him. This is all part of his goddamn game and I want no f*cking part in it! Swallowing his emotions and almost choking on the taste of regret, bitter regret, he took a deep breath in. "You're wasting your time, looking after me. And you're wasting you life following my uncle's orders. Just– get out of this hellhole while you can." He didn't know why he was warning her, was to tired to care anymore. Just too fucking tired.

"I don't feel like I am wasting my time…" she told him, standing slowly. "Not anymore." She looked at the door, as if she could see him. "I will leave you alone. You have given me a good enough reply. I know your not dead, and everything else can wait until you exit the bathroom. I shall want to look you over when morning comes." And with silence steps, she retreated to her room. She didn't want to, but a rabbit wouldn't come from its burrow with shadows at the entrances.

Oh thank god. Marcus relaxed completely after she left, already planning on evading her for as long as possible the next day. He didn't know how long he sat there, completely still, trapped in a fractured memory, but after an indiscernible amount of time, the blood pooled around him faded away, leaving behind nothing but a few droplets that had splattered down from his arm, very real, blessedly real.
He stayed there for the rest of the night. He did not sleep.

(Oof, imma cry))

Winnie's sleep was fitful and came in hourly windows. She awoke constantly from nightmares, covered in sweat. Soon the sun rose, and she felt she accomplished nothing. She was stirred by a knock on the door. "Breakfast, mi'lady!" A chipper voice squeaked from the other side. Winnie fought a groan, slid out of bed and did her to smile as she replied. "Come in!"
The maid came in with a beautiful cart of food, scents enticing Winnie as she rolled it in. Winnie sat at her vanity, brushing her hair as she waited for the maid to set the food on her dining table, stationed near a tall window, viewing the prairie side of the manor. Yet, something was wrong. "Wait." Winnie raised a hand and the maid halted in her work. "Can you move that to Lord Marcus's room?" she asked. It wasn't really a question, she got up and unlocked the door that separated their suites. She pointed to his dining table, "Over there. "
Reluctantly, the maid nodded and made fast work to transfer the food. Not for Winnie's satisfaction but more so to escape the Lord's room as fast as possible. Once she was done, she gave curtsy and scurried out of the room. Winnie shrugged it off and walked into the Lord's room.
He wasn't in bed, which led her to believe he still hadn't left the bathroom. She wouldn't force him out now. No, she would wait. Humming softly to herself, she opened the curtains to the window nearest to the table, and poured herself a cup of tea.

(our characters are both so broken oof)

Voices. There were voices coming from his room. From the other side of the bathroom door. The one he most definitely was not going to open. For a moment, Marcus toyed with the idea of just staying here forever, wasting away, not eating or drinking, just….. fading. What a relief it would be, to go.
No. That's not going to happen., Marcus told himself sharply, straightening his back. He would be strong. He would murder his bastard of an uncle and reclaim his seat of power. He was going to win this.

He was almost…. beyond tired. So exhausted that there was no room left for his exhaustion, every single corner of his brain taken over by numbness. He was not an inch of the man he had been yesterday, when he'd met Winnifred. He was just… hollow. Broken. Devoid of emotion. And he would've stayed like that forever, or at least as long as possible, if the hunger for blood had not flourished within him once more. He groaned, getting unsteadily to his feet, and lay his hand on the doorknob, unsure whether or not to turn it.

Winnie heard his groan and shot from her seat, she opened the door quickly, the motion stirring her long strands of hair, the long strands she still hadn't put up, though she had changed her clothes in the time she had waited for him. "Lord Marcus…" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she regarded him with wide brown eyes, concern shining in them. He spent the whole night in the bathroom! she thought with a blink. "You must be hungry, or at least thirsty."

Marcus couldn't stand her eyes, her goddamn eyes. He wanted her to stop worrying about him. He was fine. Or…. he would be when he killed his uncle. He looked met her gaze, eyes hardening and closing up over his vulnerable parts. "I am just fine, I told you so last night.", he told her briskly, and strode to the other end of his room, not quite managing to muster yesterday's bravado, but close enough. Just leave me alone. He felt the guilt lying heavily in the pit of his stomach, but refused to let it get to him.

She watched him pass. "Well, may you please eat something, or drink something? Perhaps gargle… for my sake at least?" she tried. She wasn't sure how he would reply to the offer. With the look he gave her, he probably wasn't take the bait. But she continued. "Then… we may proceed with your check…" She clasped her hands behind her back.

Check…. sh*t. Marcus turned to look at her, attempting to pin her down with a glare but really only succeeding in an exhausted stare. "I'm not hungry.", he sad simply, turning away again.

"On the contrary Lord Marcus, you just don't feel hungry. We humans run a time table, eating is imperative and essentially done in part in the morning. If the table is ignored, harm may come to you, and that is counterproductive." She explained as the buttered a warm roll. She set it on a saucer and walked it over to him. She sat him down on the bed and placed it on his lap. "That is all I will advise you to eat. Please cooperate." Winnie didn't like the neutrality in her tone, so bland and firm. Yet, it was required, especially dealing with a patient. Showing emotion will lead them to grasp it and sway you to their will. She couldn't afford that. "I shall fetch my things and we shall begin." She smiled faintly and turned into her room.

Marcus muttered a curse under his bed, sinking into the cushions of a couch and eyeing the roll in his lap. Should I eat it? Eventually, he decided not to, if just to spite her.

She returned and set up in silence. She had made sure to sterilize each of her medical instruments before she used them once more. She tsked at the sight of the roll but said nothing. Winnie worked swiftly, checking his ears, eyes, hair, and temperature. As she was recording his temperature, she looked up at him briefly. "I'm going to need you to remove your shirt." She told him, firmness in her gaze. She set down her record book and looked towards him.

Marcus had sat completely still up until now, neither speaking nor looking at her. Now, his eyes hardened further and clashed with hers. "No.", he said simply, harshly.

"Why not?" she countered. "You desire nothing of me and I nothing of you. This is strictly for your well being, unless you see it as more than that…" she smirked. She shook her head. "You must be terribly lonely up here…such a shame but Lord Marcus, we set ground rules last night." she feigned a blush. If he was going to be difficult, she was going to have a little fun.

Marcus was too tired to tease her right back. Too fucking tired. Too broken. Too…. he didn’t even know anymore. “I have no reason to see it as anything more than that.”, he snapped at her, pulling back.”And if you really think I’d think that highly of you, then you need to check your sanity, not mine.”

(If she keeps nagging him he’ll cave in and agree)

With a small laugh, Winnie rolled up her sleeves. "No i'm not, I know very well that I am a beautiful woman. And you're not to bad looking yourself. Now, as much as that may churn your stomach and hurt your ears, I will stop if you take off your shirt…" she trailed off. "If you don't, I'll cut it off of you. You may just be stiff from spending the night on the floor…"

Marcus glowered at her, eyes smoldering dangerously. “Fine.”, he spat, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. The fabric fell to the floor, revealing a plane of smooth, tan muscles and warm skin. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, and he looked her right in the eye, almost as if he was daring her. “But if you ever cut anything on my you’d find yourself bleeding on my floor.”

Winnie gave a smile of satisfaction, doing her best to act indifferent at the sight of him. "I have no intentions of cutting you, and if I ever did, you'd find yourself bleeding on the floor." She replied as she began to prod and press some focal points on his chest. "Any pain?" she asked after a moment.