Lonely Water | Cole & Ren
“Luck.” She repeated in a soft whisper, tottling behind him and watching nearly every motion he made: reaching for the key, the lanky walk, ushering her into the house. She lived for secret places like these, ones that were so looked-over that people often forgot they existed. There was an infinite bout of possibilities that lay within the unknown history of the house and each was just as enthralling as the last … the little ideas and stories that entered her mind and rapidly flew away were more than amusing for the moments they lasted. Ren was but a puppy following after Cole, learning only what he gave away.
The tale of the racquetball kings had a smirk cracking onto the corners of her lips, one of the faint but knowing grins that often haunted her tired features. Eyes were drunk with the sight of the dusty innards, taking everything into her quick tales and only so often would she check to make sure she wasn’t going to bump into anything along the way. It was the mention of the knife that had a noise coming from her: a soft little chuckle amused and wonderful, “Why is there a knife in the love seat?” Some part of her was sure that he wouldn’t respond but whether it was because he didn’t know or didn’t wish to tell was a mystery all its own.
The most quizzical of all was his demeanor – the way he had shifted completely to his excitement so much so that Ren was sure it vibrated off of him. Of course she followed, musing that this would be the perfect place to stow away something dark like a murder, and mostly wondering just where in the house he was leading her. Come this way had no questions to her following and through the kitchen she went, to the stairs, waiting for him to lead the way more.
“Lady luck plays an ironic hand,” He said, almost singing, “always touching those who mustn’t be touched.” The house was very old, if you could even call it a house. Cole couldn’t, not when he knew what was underneath the makeshift I Love Lucy thing that was going on along the rooms of the first floor. When he’d first found it, the watch on his wrist was new and very gold and the smile on his lips was looser and he didn’t know a damn thing about anything. “Lover’s quarrel over a misplaced duster?” He asked out loud, only to pick up the answer after waiting a beat. “I don’t know, actually, probably a joke.” Thought definitely not a pun, he wanted to add, but he was already creeping into the darkness and down the stairs. It was a short amount of stairs, not the dark foreboding kind, though those wouldn’t be questioned at all. Cole was sure that this place is only as mysterious as the people in it. He felt a dusty wall for a light switch when he hit the bottom, he didn’t know how it worked and why, but he didn’t question it. The fact that this was probably owned by someone. He flicked a switch and disappeared into the one and only door onwards. And then they were there in all of its glory. A window like wall with chairs looking inwards was what they saw first, casting an open view of a tall room, taller than the house with a long wall pointing onwards and upwards. Racquets were scattered around the ground and one of them had CK engraved. It was a training room of sorts, the type that took a lot of money to make. It was a giant secret beneath the grass. “Only a mad king would let this place decay, don’t you think?” He asked as he shrugged off his bag and pulled out a bottle--svodka--it read.
