liar.

[evelynellory]

cyrusaugustine:

     He had fancied himself someone who could easily read others, divulge their thoughts through conversation or even by witnessing their daily habits. A natural sleuth, if it wasn’t too prideful to say, that even in the weeks he had been watching and following her, he knew Evie had no connection or information to her brother that would provide useful. Yet, the call placed on her as a person of interest was no surprise– so many had been dragged to the Clubhouse’s steps as inconsequential collateral with nothing fruitful to bring save their dignity, their lives, their bodies as many of the Anserini enjoyed. And while he thought litter of her brother there was something unjust if anyone else had brought her in– perhaps for the potential of information she held. He didn’t believe himself a savior, think he helped her in avoiding his colleagues and their perverse desires; if he was, it was misguided and demented, bringing her to wait outside Hell’s gates while he stepped through them, with the constant threat of being pulled in and burned. Nonetheless, the topic was a conversation piece to keep her speaking between eating and reaffirm suspicions he had no intent on following up– it was simply polite conversation.

The distance growing between them, however, like a flood  spreading across the room and drifting her steps further from him was somewhat of an insult for how calm, how patient he was. He hadn’t advanced on her, yet she still parted as if he was ready to lunge. “Please,” he offered again, though the insistence lingering in his voice verged on demanding, “have a seat. I’ll make you any food or drink, whatever you’d like so long it’s available.” Perhaps he was being impatient, or irritable for unnecessary reasons. He reminded himself this wasn’t paradise for either of them and corrected his tone when he continued. “I did. After the attic, it’s expected you reside with the being who brought you here. You’ll have your own bed,” he added, though he wasn’t sure it was much reassurance to either of them. While he wasn’t a heavy sleeper he was sure to become a light one, one eye open to her side of the room to ensure he wouldn’t be jumped in his sleep, to ensure she wouldn’t acquire any clever ideas like the clever con-artist she was. “Still, we are in no rush.”

        His insistent please made her pause all motion, frozen in place like an ice statue — or that idiot in 007 frozen in liquid nitrogen (she was not invincible and never proclaimed such stupid things, really). In truth Evie was nervous to push him, wary that his kind suggestions would turn to something much worse once his patience was thoroughly tested. Eyes shifted from his person, and even that was a fight considering he seemed too much like a large cat — if you took your eyes off of him for even a second he might spring (she should fashion a mask to wear on the back of her head to steer him away), to find the nearest chair … further from him. And once it was found, across the island, she slowly made to that and clambored atop it not unlike a child attempting to saddle a stool far taller than they. The pear, which she had stripped to its core in under a minute, remained in the palm of her hand, and she rested those on the island top. She was sure she’d throw it away when given the chance but his insistence on his getting comfortable was an override code. Her perch atop the chair was obviously uncomfortable, if only because of how stiff she remained.

Oh, but she got her own bed. It was definitely a step in the right direction from this situation — except it wasn’t. “Why …” she paused. After what she had witnessed in the house she already knew the answer to the question and it suddenly seemed ridiculous to even ask it. “Am I here. Why am I here.” A better question to ask, since she hadn’t formally heard the reason. If the name of the gang were eked from his lips she would instantly understand, but even her brother wasn’t stupid enough to tell her any detail of what their clubhouse looked like. It wasn’t as if Evie were privy to the knowledge of where they were, anyway. Still, her gaze remained on her hands andoff of her captor, shame for how she had initially treated him and how it wound up burning a path from ear to ear and across her face. Stupid.

[evelynellory]

reidanderson:

     He nodded several times as his hand lowered. “I understand. I regretted my own words the moment they came out. No, no, I am not one of these maniacs, to clarify; supposedly the property of one.” He turned and faced her, a bit too uniform like but her honesty struck a chord of truth for both of them. In his life he expected to be shot, torn by explosives, concussed, and even held hostage with the possibly of torture. Not once did he consider sexual abuse, threatened leisurely as if it was akin to drinking water. “I wouldn’t wish it to happen to any of us, and hopefully it won’t, the ones who have yet to experience it.” His burning hand clenched, now feeling the exposure he convinced himself he didn’t feel. How proper that it was hotter than the rest of him, holding the anger he had for their situation from revealing itself to be taken advantage. “Reid Anderson,” he introduced, holding out his free hand to shake. “ ’Figure we should know each other before they start renaming us, too.” 

        “Property.” Her repetition of the word was quiet, soft, an afterthought to enunciate the situation they were both in together. She had never signed up for this. She knew there were lives people chose to lead, paths that brought them here for one reason or another. Whatever her own path had been, her affiliation with the Anserini was through her brother and even then it wassparing. She knew nothing of what they did, just that he ran drugs, and anything beyond that wasclueless. When he offered a hand to her she glanced at it for a moment before giving her own. Wouldn’t it be nice for one person her to know her name outside of what they wanted to do with it? Someone who knew her in earnest? Not her married names, not her aliases — but her. “Evelyn Ellory. Evie works, though.” Her clasp was firm enough to be genuine, loose enough to reveal the heart she did not have here — the beaten-down soul. “You look like a Reid.”

[evelynellory]

softboyshardgirls:

“I told you NOT to touch me. You want some little weakling, go mess with one of the others. But you don’t touch me.” She hissed, standing over the woman who’d not learning the meaning of the word ‘no’ as a child. Allison knew the target she presented- the clubhouse was overrun with petite brunettes after all, why wouldn’t she be any different from her timid counterparts? Too bad for them that she’d had the childhood she had, learning to grow thorns where petals were meant to be. The lightly bleeding woman certainly hadn’t expected the fire of Allison’s nail raking across her perfectly done up face, nor the knee to the solar plexus. She looks up from her would be assailant, sky blue eyes narrowed in mistrust. “Aren’t you going to go and tell on me? Captives aren’t supposed to fight back, right?”

         Scuffles in the club house were a norm, Evie was learning. People were always apt to pick fights with someone, though she assumed it was because those in control believed everyone was subservient. And most of them were ... but Evie attempted to stay out of it. Sometimes, like now, they happened right in front of you. “Am I supposed to be a tattle? I got the distinct feeling that this wasn’t grade school. Not one I went to, anyway.” She peeled herself from her position against the wall where she had believed she was out of sight --- apparently not. Eyes scoured the girl with the wounded face before they fell back onto Allison. “I didn’t see anything.”

[evelynellory]

reidanderson:

     Silence. The very thing he blamed for pulling him into a distant world (although the entity held no responsibility to mind), she didn’t want to disturb. At least her question was worth ruining it, a smirk and huffed laugh to think he was anything akin to them. “Absolutely. I go around telling everyone my fetishes and expect them to fulfill it with sadistic glee.” His eyes flashed to hers, pausing to gauge if he had made a mistake, tricked into offering the joke of an open invitation to the very type of person he was mocking. A shake of his head, he looked back into the flames. “It’s a horror show and we’re the entertainment.” 

        “I want to say that it’s obvious that you’re joking but … my sarcasm radar has been off since I go there.” More like — since she threw her -empty- purse at her captor and made a mad dash for a main road. She remembered vaguely the rules of being followed and what you were meant to do, but nobody ever said anything about being chased by Jack Skellington. Three of her steps equaled a half of his, there was just no way. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone for fun.” How child-like she sounded in that moment, joining the blond by staring into the fire. Maybe she could just jump in. If she didn’t die at least she’d have horribly scarred flesh. Nobody would want to touch her then, right?

[samiradeclan-blog]

cyrusaugustine:

     The silence between them was a settling haze of mist, obvious enough to see but not thick enough to cut through. What was he to expect? He was a man of direct and often few words unless he was engaging in polite conversation, and even that was understandably terse between them. Had the situation been reversed, Cyrus could have been mistaken for a mute, voiceless until it was forcibly brought out; and though he used the image his colleagues portrayed to set an example, being thrown among them and told her life was lost was no easy conversational piece either. Lost because of a familial connect he knew she couldn’t provide information for, but then others were brought in for less– brought in because their captor wished it and made their own demented dreams come true. Still, there was no question as to why their lips were sealed to small questions and answers and hopefully the silence allowed her to collect her thoughts.

But a smile softly stretched his lips when she took the fruit, although it was possible she thought it necessary, and bit into it. It was his turn to shake his head in reply. “No. You’ll be joining me in my room. But I figured you’d like to eat, first, which is not limited to pears,” he added. The offer of a shower was also at the tip of his tongue but the notion of stripping in the same bathroom as one’s captor didn’t seem the most appropriate offer to give. “Please, relax, sit, eat. Neither of us are in a rush to be anywhere.” A cruel reminder, at that, but there was no reason not to be polite; good manners seemed lacking wherever he looked. “But I do wonder,” he spoke, gesturing to the bar and the chairs behind it. “While I know your brother hasn’t contacted you, are there any inclinations you think he would be? Any instinctual ideas?”

        The pear was surprisingly sweet. Or maybe it was the soft satisfaction of his answer: she wouldn’t have to go back into that awful attic with the crying and the screaming people, that made it taste so good. Perhaps it was her overwhelming hunger, which only just now hit her in the stomach like a ton of bricks, that made it seem as if it were the single best flavor in the entire world to enter her maw. Whatever the reason, Evie nearly devoured the thing in three bites before admonishing in the realization that only the core remained in her hand. Even then it was easy to see she had clipped a few of the seeds in her ravenous feast. She hadn’t even noticed. “I … no. I spoke to him six months ago. He came by to pick something up from the house where we grew up and then disappeared just as quickly. A year before then, for my birthday. At most he’d just say he was doing well and he had a lot of work and then he would just leave again.”

While Evie did shift away from him it was not to sit — merely to put more space between herself and the tall, imposing frame of her captor. The means of being brought here was a haze that seemed to rouse a pain in her head that she’d only just gotten rid of, like an angry phantom.She’d tried to con him — but to be fair he looked rich, and it would have been a nice break from her much older husbands of past. Rest their souls, thank you for the contribution to my bank account. “You’d know more about him than I would. —Did you say your room?” Why? Why his room? Why not just shove her in some place with the other people who were taken? Like jail, but not like the attic. Without the crying. Why with him? Another small step away from him — not to make a break for it, no, but just to have space there. As if being close to him would poison her.

[evelynellory]

reidanderson:

    The fibers beneath his hands were supposed to be jagged, rough rock and rumble from a destroyed building where he was perched, where the sun was supposed to be burning his already blistered cheeks. Instead, the soft cloth of the sofas in the lounge were keeping him grounded where the silence in the room wished to drift him off, remind him, but neither reality was appealing to lay claim. Reid was caught between the bridge of the two, absent from his physical surroundings and unaware of company that entered as he stood and approached the fire place. His hand was near touching the hot, metal screen to the fireplace when he paused, “Repeat what you said a little louder this time.”

@evelynellory

        “I guess I could scream it, but it would ruin the serenade of silence.” Or bring unwanted attention to an otherwise undisturbed room. Her residency in the attic wasn’t so far behind her and the last thing that Evie wanted to do was be somewhere so … public. It was different when she was wandering, not so much when whomever could appear and do whatever they wanted to … well, the idea was there. She came to a stop beside him, half-a-person’s worth of space between herself and the blond, before she rose her own hand before the grate. Not to burn, just to warm. “Please tell me you’re not one of those sex maniacs?”

[evelynellory]

cyrusaugustine:

@evelynellory

     The being not far behind his footfalls laid a heaviness on his shoulders he didn’t realize he wasn’t prepared to take. He understood the game: take those with vital information and connections, those who wronged the Anserini or thought themselves higher than the whole, and reduce them to possessions. Cyrus never thought himself to be a part of it, fancied himself to watch the madness around him as so many revealed their repressed, sexual deviations on their captives and sputter nonsense at each other for it. He was to watch, not take part. Yet the woman beside him made him a liar. “I entrust your stay in the Attic was… hopefully it was peaceful. I’ve heard everything between screaming and crying come from behind that door, silence too.” He didn’t spin her any lies since the moment he approached her… or she approached him– not since when he introduced himself and made clear his intentions of their meeting before she took off with only an ‘oh’ for him to chase after. It was a rough start, rougher than he wished it but then his chances of her coming peacefully were shy of the Second Coming. But she had time to think since then, time to reconsider any she had formed of him though the chances of those changing were equally as slim. “Do you understand, now,” he asked, offering a pear. “I’m not the creep you should be concerned about.”

        It would be a lie to say that she hadn’t cried at least a little bit upon waking up in the strange place. Nothing like the horrible noise that some of the people up there made, just soft things that caused her mascara and eye shadow to run more than it had in their scuffle. Now, beside him, she looked like a raccoon of sorts, especially with how small she was in comparison. Did she still think he was a creep? Yes. In 2018 people were still being captured off of the street, and to find out what happened to them in this predicament. While he had said he wouldn’t do any of those things she didn’t quite believe him, not for a second, though he wasappearing to keep his word on the matter. Did she think he was a creep compared to the others? No. Compared to them he was something of a Saint, maybe Saint John for bringing a lost soul here but … not anywhere she wished to be. The chances of her going home? Without asking it was obvious. There were none. And right now she was in no position to barter it.

Compliantly she took the pear from his hands, though instead of biting into it she gave the fruit a few turns. Instinct to ensure it wasn’t bruised before eating it, or maybe the need to keep her hands busy, kept her from ceasing the growl in the stomach right there. Evie waited a moment, then nodded in answer to his question. Yes, she understood now. Crunch. —It was pleasantly sweet. She let the odd texture of the pear skin sit on her tongue for a long moment before she continued chewing. When she swallowed she spoke, voice hoarse for lack of use. “Do I have to go back up there?”

[evelynellory]

cyrusaugustine:

      He had fancied himself someone who could easily read others, divulge their thoughts through conversation or even by witnessing their daily habits. A natural sleuth, if it wasn’t too prideful to say, that even in the weeks he had been watching and following her, he knew Evie had no connection or information to her brother that would provide useful. Yet, the call placed on her as a person of interest was no surprise– so many had been dragged to the Clubhouse’s steps as inconsequential collateral with nothing fruitful to bring save their dignity, their lives, their bodies as many of the Anserini enjoyed. And while he thought litter of her brother there was something unjust if anyone else had brought her in– perhaps for the potential of information she held.He didn’t believe himself a savior, think he helped her in avoiding his colleagues and their perverse desires; if he was, it was misguided and demented, bringing her to wait outside Hell’s gates while he stepped through them, with the constant threat of being pulled in and burned. Nonetheless, the topic was a conversation piece to keep her speaking between eating and reaffirm suspicions he had no intent on following up– it was simply polite conversation.

The distance growing between them, however, like a flood  spreading across the room and drifting her steps further from him was somewhat of an insult for how calm, how patient he was. He hadn’t advanced on her, yet she still parted as if he was ready to lunge. “Please,” he offered again, though the insistence lingering in his voice verged on demanding, “have a seat. I’ll make you any food or drink, whatever you’d like so long it’s available.” Perhaps he was being impatient, or irritable for unnecessary reasons. He reminded himself this wasn’t paradise for either of them and corrected his tone when he continued. “I did. After the attic, it’s expected you reside with the being who brought you here. You’ll have your own bed,” he added, though he wasn’t sure it was much reassurance to either of them. While he wasn’t a heavy sleeper he was sure to become a light one, one eye open to her side of the room to ensure he wouldn’t be jumped in his sleep, to ensure she wouldn’t acquire any clever ideas like the clever con-artist she was. “Still, we are in no rush.”

         His insistent please made her pause all motion, frozen in place like an ice statue --- or that idiot in 007 frozen in liquid nitrogen (she was not invincible and never proclaimed such stupid things, really). In truth Evie was nervous to push him, wary that his kind suggestions would turn to something much worse once his patience was thoroughly tested. Eyes shifted from his person, and even that was a fight considering he seemed too much like a large cat --- if you took your eyes off of him for even a second he might spring (she should fashion a mask to wear on the back of her head to steer him away), to find the nearest chair ... further from him. And once it was found, across the island, she slowly made to that and clambored atop it not unlike a child attempting to saddle a stool far taller than they. The pear, which she had stripped to its core in under a minute, remained in the palm of her hand, and she rested those on the island top. She was sure she’d throw it away when given the chance but his insistence on his getting comfortable was an override code. Her perch atop the chair was obviously uncomfortable, if only because of how stiff she remained. 

Oh, but she got her own bed. It was definitely a step in the right direction from this situation --- except it wasn’t. “Why ...” she paused. After what she had witnessed in the house she already knew the answer to the question and it suddenly seemed ridiculous to even ask it. “Am I here. Why am I here.” A better question to ask, since she hadn’t formally heard the reason. If the name of the gang were eked from his lips she would instantly understand, but even her brother wasn’t stupid enough to tell her any detail of what their clubhouse looked like. It wasn’t as if Evie were privy to the knowledge of where they were, anyway. Still, her gaze remained on her hands and off of her captor, shame for how she had initially treated him and how it wound up burning a path from ear to ear and across her face. Stupid.

[evelynellory]

kidnappcd:

Her body is perched up on the couch, lounging with comfort, while her nose is stuck in a book. This is the first time she been able to feel at ease during her stay at the Clubhouse, and as much as she’d hate to admit it, she’s beginning to feel used to being here. Her relaxation comes from the late hour, she assumes everyone is asleep. So, when she hears the steps of someone else entering the room, a startled Shane jolts her head up. “Oh,” she hums out, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

         “Probably,” Evie hadn’t been expecting someone in here. She wasn’t foolish enough to assume that the entire house would be asleep in synchronization but there had been a hope that with the sun well set there would be more empty rooms than not. Unabashed to stare at who spoke (if only to determine if they were in a similar situation to herself or not) Evie took a moment to speak again. “My babysitter is working. Figured I’d treat myself to some time out of the pen.”

[anneboleyns]

[lukevanski]

[thunderbirdthor-deactivated2020]

[evelynellory]

deliriouslyjace:

“I wouldn’t get too used to it. There’s not a life outside this place.” Sure. There was a river, but what was she going to do? Swim it? Jason knew it was remotely impossible. Even if someone knew where to go, they’d probably tire out before getting there. Also, depending on rather or not there was a current and other factors, someone may die trying to swim to freedom. There had to be a reason they picked this place, right? “Not anymore.” He used to be one of those people who held onto whatever little hope he had, but after the branch, nearly being baked in a car, and the pointless knife marks still healing, he had given up ages ago. It was easier to just accept that he was stuck here – if only temporarily – before the cops or someone else made a surprise appearance. “But you are right about it being calm. It’s one of the few things about this place that is.”

         “I’m gathering that.” Or she did rather quickly upon seeing the horrors and atrocities committed against the people here as if it were a part of a regularly scheduled Tuesday morning. For a long beat there was silence between them and Evie let her eyes stare out at the water. It seemed so displaced, considering what went on behind them --- the marks he bore from what Evie could only imagine to be horrific events. Of course she knew nothing of what he suffered but the pocks on his flesh suggested only the most twisted of fantasies available to her imagination. She knew nothing of this sort of thing --- her fortune in captor was evident but still ... the desire to be free outweighed all. “If I knew the water would kill me, I’d try. Does that sound messed up?” She’d never been suicidal, never had so much of an inclination to harm herself even accidentally, but to be free. Evie wondered if he felt the same with all of his scars and pig-nose pink flesh.

[evelynellory]

invisiblcthought:

“maybe this experience will teach you to keep an open mind from now on, and think of all the endless possibilities that exist in this universe.” ok, he sounded a little dramatic, which he intended to be. all for the fun and games “mister augustine … “ he stopped for a second and genuinely laughed “is that how he makes you address him?” there were many things that alessandro considered stupid, and this was one of them. there were no mister titles there, unless you counted papa calvery and papa pragonis “you certainly know how to recommend a book. you convinced me, i’ll read that, it sounds pretty interesting. i’m all for sadistic romance.” 

         “You know, honestly? I thought I had an open mind before coming here. It takes an open mind to willingly sleep with men above the age of sixty so you can inherit their money when they die, you know?” And she’d done it four times, no less than that. “No --- he doesn’t make me do anything. I just don’t feel right calling him by his first name. I don’t know him, outside of him bringing me here. Being so casual with him makes it seem as if I’m trying to befriend him --- it just doesn’t feel right on my tongue.” She shrugged softly, eyes cast back down to the brim of the book. “I’d like to tell you about Marquis de Sade, if you like sadistic romance. He wrote some pretty messy things, all about exploring one’s sexual appetite. Kind of a staple, for literature buffs. The same way that Lolita is.”

[evelynellory]

desidcriium:

“i didn’t ever have the most reliable parents growing up. so i have always been use to just relying on myself. and i guess my mistake was putting so much faith into someone else. i usually keep myself pretty guarded. and the one time i didn’t this happens. so yes, for me this is definitely a learning experience.“ laia said. laia had learned from this whole thing that she can no longer trust anyone but herself.

         “You’re preaching to the choir there.” Her father ran off when she was small, but Evie didn’t hate him for it --- she envied his ability to escape. Her mother, medically, was an attention seeker; even going so far as to make herself sick to get the attention back onto herself. Reliable would have never been the word to describe her, even if Evie was paid to do it. “And now all you have to do is survive this place. Which I am learning is a lottery in and of itself --- pending you don’t have a salacious sexual predator as your captor.”

[epic-fun-deactivated20160122]

[evelynellory]

deliriouslyjace:

Being able to run outside was always a weird feeling. He needed to keep himself in shape somehow, after all. He didn’t have access to a gym here, so he did what the next best thing was. He made use of his surroundings and half the time, no one else was out here anyway. The heat had soaked through his shirt which had been discarded during his three lap around the perimeter. If he was going to be a victim, he wasn’t going to let Dante pick and chose who got to see the marks. What did they always say, anyway? Marks were the sign of surviving and that’s exactly what he had been doing so far. He was standing on the outskirts of the club house, body leaning over the gate as his eyes took in the river that surrounded the clubhouse. He had been in Canada long enough to know the rivers that ran the length of certain areas were huge, making it even more impossible to get a good idea on where they were. Even though he was a pretty good swimmer, he didn’t think he’d make it even if he wanted to. He turned to stare the approaching footsteps behind him, his eyebrow raising. “I’m not going to make a break for it.” 

         “Who would I tell if you were?” She had heard there were horses on the property, but Evie doubted she’d be allowed to see them, never mind touch or ride one. As a girl it had been, as it was with most girls, her dream to own one. Never in her life did she imagine she would be near them like this --- not under these circumstances. With Cyrus away on some sort of job (she liked to not ask, considering he sometimes came back with blood on his suits) she’d taken it upon herself to go for a walk. Sure it was chilly, and considering she wasn’t covered in sweat from exertion like the blond, she even gave a shiver as she approached. “I just wanted to see the water. A reminder that the world exists outside of this place.” Though her eyes glanced at the obvious marks on his skin before settling on the water aforementioned. The abuse these people suffered --- she could only wonder when she’d sport her own marks, when the man who brought her here would drop the gentleman act and turn into one of the many beasts that prowled the house. They belonged outside, like dogs, if they were going to act like it. “It’s oddly calm.”