One Eye on the Mirror

RP blog for Henry Lascelles, fashion editor and posh bastard. - memes - main: mr-henry-lascelles

[aspecialprovidence]

eyeonthemirror‌:

A half hour delay meant nothing. She may have been in the shower. Not even millennials took their phone to the shower. His five second delay may have meant something, but he was beyond caring. He’d be off home after New Year’s, after all.

Not a lot of mornings left. Tomorrow, then.

There were more words, but he deleted them. There was no way to read her over the screen and the things he wanted to say he couldn’t say to all the possible Sophias that sat on the other side of that connection.

His phone beeped again almost immediately after he’d dropped it on the hotel bed. He picked it up, only to frown at the screen. He deleted another message from Gao. That woman needed to learn to email… and have some patience if Henry took a day, or five, to reply.

-

Prudence parked her rental at the hotel parking lot and stepped out, pulling her scarf up higher as a cruel wind bit her face and whipped her hair back out almost vertically behind her. At least the sunglasses protected her eyes. The gust died as she pushed on into the lee of the buildings.

Lascelles wasn’t replying to her texts, emails or calls, but he wasn’t difficult to find, so she’d cancelled her flight and paid for another couple of nights. If he thought she was going to give up that easy, he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I can’t give you any information about our guests.” The concierge was adamant, shaking his oiled head.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Pru purred in her softest voice. “I know he is here. I know his room number. All I’m asking is if you happen to have seen him step out.”

“Really, I can’t–” The concierge’s eyes swivelled up and behind Pru. She turned sharply and right enough, there he was, the damned obstinate silk-clad scarecrow, heading for the door with his head in the clouds.

“Nevermind.” She followed, heels clicking fast on the polished floor. She nearly called out, but thought differently as he pushed open the door. Where was he going? Sightseeing… or seeing one of his father’s business partners?

Prudence shifted her scarf up and around her hair, pushed up her sunglasses, and followed more slowly, falling into step with her quarry.

‘Not a lot of mornings left.’  There was something of a reassurance in that, she supposed. Henry wasn’t here to stay. Whatever came of their encounters, there was a finite end. That made the situation more manageable in her thoughts– at least when she tried to logic her way through the possible avenues this meeting could take. Logic, not emotion. On the level of the latter, she did like him, had liked him holding her. It had been nice just to be with someone in a human capacity–in whatever form that may take, and when the night had been so very inhuman beforehand. She was still working to reconcile that, and she wondered if it might come up… 

Manageable. What was ‘manageable’ even defined as here? She had no guidelines, no one advising her… Perhaps Liam’s advice might have been solid. He was far kinder in the realm of human interactions than most, but she wasn’t ready to rebuild that bridge just yet. 

“See you then. Looking forward. -S” was what she replied with. 

– – 

It was windier than it had been in the days before, and she’d settled with a quick run of her hands through her pale hair to smooth it back to a presentable state once she was inside the coffee shop. She was dressed pristinely, a pastel sweater over dark jeans beneath the black of her coat.  

She’d gotten here early on purpose. Moments later, she’d settled at the same table they had sat at earlier in the week, legs crossed and a cup of hot water with lemon already between her hands in some attempt to bring life back to them before Henry arrived. The bell over the door went off, and she turned her attention over the steam of her cup to see if it was him. 

[eyeonthemirror]

Henry pushed open the door to the cafe, his eyes instantly drawn to the same corner he’d found Sophia the last time, tucked away from the sunlight. She did rather shrink away from it, didn’t she? Sophia at night-time wasn’t the kind to lurk in corners. The people in her past must have done a real number on her.

People were always fucked up in the bottom of it. The better they looked at first, the bigger the mess inside. It was like a terrible Christmas present that Henry had to keep opening over and over again, just to affirm the conclusion. Nobody was perfect. Maybe that was why he was here. That, or the possibility she might prove him wrong. Hell, maybe she was a real undead bloodsucking hell-bitch, and life was a video game, and all he’d have to do is learn to play it right.

He waved her hello with a mild smile, ordered a coffee--whatever he’d said, continuity was not worth paying for that shitty tea again--and joined her at the table. “Hi.”

-

It wasn’t the first time Pru had followed someone discreetly in a car. There was a reason she preferred grey rentals. She saw Lascelles get into a taxi, noted the plate; and was behind her own wheel within the minute. She followed him downtown cruised by as he walked into a coffee shop... then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to find a place to park. There was always some damn thing, wasn’t there?

[eyeonthemirror]

eyeonthemirror‌:

After she left, Henry washed and slept like a log, waking up with that headache still behind his eyes and hungrier than he remembered feeling in a long time. Orange juice and a yogurt didn’t cut it that morning; after beans, eggs and bacon he ordered a second breakfast of croissants and coffee, and soon after went back to bed. Paperwork arrived from Holmes, Gordon & Gibbs later that day. He signed it without looking and sent it back with the delivery boy. That may have been a mistake. That afternoon, Miss Gao called him on the phone. No, he’d not left Chicago yet. No, he’d not like to meet. Whatever it was, she could email him. He turned down the sound on his phone and decided to test the hotel wifi. He’d been right, but he played Dishonored 2 until he got disgusted with himself, washed up, and put on clean trousers. There had to be somewhere in town where he could get his mind off things without melting into his hotel bed, or talking to another person.

He didn’t read Miss Gao’s email.

The following day he texted Sophia out of the back of a cab, on his way back from a disappointing play. His hand kept going back to his neck, to the fading scar that still showed up on his pale skin.

Same place, same time, same terrible tea?

A half hour delay meant nothing. She may have been in the shower. Not even millennials took their phone to the shower. His five second delay may have meant something, but he was beyond caring. He’d be off home after New Year’s, after all.

Not a lot of mornings left. Tomorrow, then.

There were more words, but he deleted them. There was no way to read her over the screen and the things he wanted to say he couldn’t say to all the possible Sophias that sat on the other side of that connection.

His phone beeped again almost immediately after he’d dropped it on the hotel bed. He picked it up, only to frown at the screen. He deleted another message from Gao. That woman needed to learn to email… and have some patience if Henry took a day, or five, to reply.

-

Prudence parked her rental at the hotel parking lot and stepped out, pulling her scarf up higher as a cruel wind bit her face and whipped her hair back out almost vertically behind her. At least the sunglasses protected her eyes. The gust died as she pushed on into the lee of the buildings.

Lascelles wasn’t replying to her texts, emails or calls, but he wasn’t difficult to find, so she’d cancelled her flight and paid for another couple of nights. If he thought she was going to give up that easy, he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I can’t give you any information about our guests.” The concierge was adamant, shaking his oiled head.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Pru purred in her softest voice. “I know he is here. I know his room number. All I’m asking is if you happen to have seen him step out.”

“Really, I can’t--” The concierge’s eyes swivelled up and behind Pru. She turned sharply and right enough, there he was, the damned obstinate silk-clad scarecrow, heading for the door with his head in the clouds.

“Nevermind.” She followed, heels clicking fast on the polished floor. She nearly called out, but thought differently as he pushed open the door. Where was he going? Sightseeing… or seeing one of his father’s business partners?

Prudence shifted her scarf up and around her hair, pushed up her sunglasses, and followed more slowly, falling into step with her quarry.

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

There was a mark on his neck from her fangs, healed over with the very venom that had instilled the high. It would stay for a day or two, just a touch too reminiscent of puncture wounds to pass for a love bite… 

Soph cut her eyes up to him with a slight twist of her lips at his joke. The edge of a smile had come back, slightly harder, perhaps passably flirtatious. It was a gut instinct as walls began to reform and old habits re-emerged out of the shock of the unfamiliar ground she was treading. Sophia dropped from where she had knelt to sit at the edge of the bed. A little laugh made its way out of her throat, but it was more a final rush of air leaving her lungs in relief to be back on semi-solid ground. “No Call of Duty? Ok, that’s a deal breaker. Where’s my coat…?” She’d reached back to zip up her dress as she spoke, and she looked back at him with a little smile that said she didn’t mean a word of it. 

She slid from her heels, scooted closer to his warmth. “For a little while,” she murmured. “Your pick. Just… let’s watch something happy.” 

After she left, Henry washed and slept like a log, waking up with that headache still behind his eyes and hungrier than he remembered feeling in a long time. Orange juice and a yogurt didn’t cut it that morning; after beans, eggs and bacon he ordered a second breakfast of croissants and coffee, and soon after went back to bed.

Paperwork arrived from Holmes, Gordon & Gibbs later that day. He signed it without looking and sent it back with the delivery boy. That may have been a mistake. That afternoon, Miss Gao called him on the phone. No, he’d not left Chicago yet. No, he’d not like to meet. Whatever it was, she could email him. He turned down the sound on his phone and decided to test the hotel wifi. He’d been right, but he played Dishonored 2 until he got disgusted with himself, washed up, and put on clean trousers. There had to be somewhere in town where he could get his mind off things without melting into his hotel bed, or talking to another person.

He didn’t read Miss Gao’s email.

The following day he texted Sophia out of the back of a cab, on his way back from a disappointing play. His hand kept going back to his neck, to the fading scar that still showed up on his pale skin.

Same place, same time, same terrible tea?

[justafun]

[justafun]

[gentlemanmotorslifestyle-deacti]

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

A sad little smile touched her lips at the words, at the warmth of his touch to her cheek. It was a nice sentiment, wasn’t it? Somehow being a blood-sucking member of the undead and a ‘life story’ didn’t seem to translate in her head as the same thing. Who knew, maybe it was the same thing at this point in her life. 

So she simply nodded. “I like you too.” Sophia tilted her face up to his, met his lips with hers. It was a soft action, human in intent. Now was not the time to make rash decisions, to force this information any further. They were both tired. Truth could come in time, if it was required. Henry had offered her a way out, and for the moment, she was spent. She pulled back with a soft breath, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you want to sit down?” 

“If you promise to keep your hands to yourself,” he joked, though he doubted either of them was feeling particularly sexy anymore. He sat down on the bed, leaned back a little, making inconspicuous room for her to cuddle up.

“Would you stay a little? There’s still room service and late night television. Or YouTube. I’m sorry to say so, but I don’t think the hotel wifi can handle Call of Duty.”

He was still raw, but this was Henry Lascelles at his sweetest. Everyone needed to like and be liked sometimes. Not loved. Something shallower than that ripping emotion, something that allowed you to be accepted, even with all your ugliness hanging out.

[naughtysoutherngent]

[eyeonthemirror]

Solo, because Dreamwidth ficlet challenge communities enable me. Content warning: Teen angst. “Why do you do these things?” Henry’s mother’s brow is creased, her thin face contorted in an expression so familiar it has become tedious. When unleashed upon the unsuspecting, it has a devastating effect, but not even his father falls for it anymore. And his father is an idiot. “Is it me?” Oh, yes, play the martyr. I wasn’t bored enough already. “Is it to get your father’s attention? You don’t need to, you know. He invited--” “Yes, he did.” It comes out sharper than he intends. “To go hunting. Mum. Hunting.” “He means well, you know.” “No.” Henry stands up. His boredom has crumbled into rage and his hands tremble. “No, he doesn’t.” He could strike her. He does not. He stomps away from the kitchen table instead, up the stairs towards his own room. If they’ve taken out the lock again, he swears to God he’ll climb out the window and go right back on that train to London. Back to where he can be himself, instead of playing a junior version of his fucking father. The fresh, inexpertly etched tattoo stings on his wrist as he moves. Henry clings on to the joy of that pain.

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

How long had it been since someone had just held her? Long enough for her to forget the last time. It was a sweetness she didn’t deserve, and reason was starting to catch back up with her amid the emotional upheaval. Next time. That alluded to more encounters, more interactions.  No surprises. Sophia closed her eyes. 

This gentleness had not been planned… and as much as she wanted to stay in it, she couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know. They hardly knew one another. Perhaps not all the facts were owed, but after the events of the last half hour, some certainly were. “There’s so much you don’t know…” she said softly. 

“I could say the same.” He pulled back to look at her, touched her cheek. He’d really fucked up a promising night, hadn’t he? But it could be so much worse. “I don’t need your life story, Sophia. I like you the way you are now.”

He leaned down, slowly enough that she could stop him with a word or a touch, but he didn’t expect to be stopped. Emotion had wrung the passion out of him, and her as well, he imagined, but a kiss was sensual pleasure, sometimes even more so with no urgency behind it. And it could close the conversation, shut the door on any more confessions.

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

But she had done something wrong. That was what was eating her alive. A little bubble of self-loathing welled in her chest, sat there a moment as he stepped closer. “You’re not an idiot,” she muttered. She watched his features carefully, wanted to say more… 

Come here. The bubble popped, at least enough to let her breathe again. Sophia leaned forward, shifting her weight to tuck into his hold. All she cared about was the warmth of the embrace in that moment, the promise that all was well, that he didn’t hate her– even if he still didn’t see all the facets of her all-too fucked-up reality. She could make out the skyline of the city beneath them over his shoulder, the glittering of lights. So far away, peaceful. She took in a deep breath, let it out. She could pretend everything was okay for a little while… Henry seemed more than willing to let her. 

He enfolded her in his arms with a rush of relief. That sense of humiliation that had been in the driver’s seat at all the worst times of his life receded. The headache beat against his temples, but it was soft around the edges, and it would all be all right, now.

He kissed her hair and ran a thumb across her shoulder, a simple soothing motion. This is where he would say I love you, were that their relationship, or some curse whoever upset her, if it hadn’t been himself. “Next time, no surprises, hmm?”

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

Sophia took in a breath, watched him as the anger faded from his features. Her body was starting to remember how to move again. She was going to stand, zip herself up, grab her coat… leave. Leave before he could kick her out or raise some sort of alarm that would compromise her even more. Disappear like she had planned to… 

But that didn’t happen, and that sent her petite frame into another moment of pause as she attempted to make heads or tails of what could possibly make him calm. Had he known before? Did he already know what she was? It wasn’t unheard of, some humans involved with The Family did know… She didn’t know if that was better or worse, that it hadn’t come up at all if he did… 

He was reaching out to her, apologizing to her… Wrong. This was wrong. There shouldn’t be anything human about the situation. Violence permeated the edges, licked like flames against paper along the image of what both saw of the other before the illusion settled once more. The warmth of his blood had flushed  under her cheeks with the distress– a warmth that would fade. It always did, but in this moment there was an undeniable human vulnerability with it… Her thirst was sated, she was more than upset… Why was she still here? Tentatively, she moved closer– not touching him, assessing as she perched on her knees on the bed before him. She was at his eye-level here, and her voice was soft when she finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I just… Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” A smile ghosted on his lips. He was drowsy, dizzy, thirsty, and he felt the beginning of a headache, but none of that mattered. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the idiot.” He closed the distance between them, touched her shoulder, neither grabbing nor holding. “Come here.”

If she came into his arms now, it would all be all right. He’d pet her and comfort her and they’d kiss, and maybe just lie together for a while watching whatever was on TV at this hour of the night until the emotional charge faded away. Maybe. He’d like that. God, just let her-- Let her like him enough that it wouldn’t matter how he’d acted.

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

“I didn’t—“ Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to? Of course she had meant to. She had meant it from the very core of her being when her teeth were in his neck, in the cab, on the dance floor. But she didn’t want to mean to. Perhaps that was the root of it. She was forever straddling the line between human and beast, and it seemed it had tripped her this time. He had told her to stop… and she couldn’t bear pushing it further, couldn’t take it to where she could safely slip away… 

Sophia pressed her lips together, blinked. There wasn’t an excuse here, was there? His anger was justified. She hadn’t taken into account the mirror, hadn’t taken into account much of anything in the moment. Why hadn’t she? That wasn’t like her. There was a brief moment taken to note that smug shell of his had cracked, but somehow it only made her feel sicker– Her own armor had cracked too. 

“I told you it was hard to explain,” she managed, thawing out just enough to slip the dress back up over her shoulders. She was trying to gather herself, find her footing in this turn of events if only physically… “Henry, I’m…” A vampire. The words died in her throat. Surely he had already caught on. 

Henry understood. Sort of. He thought he did. Teppes. This was probably something she’d picked up during that dark past of hers. Some fucked up mafia initiation vampire nonsense that had coalesced into a kink. The more he understood, the more he saw himself, how he had behaved, jumping about like a nervous deer. It made him all the angrier. He could see himself in the mirror on the periphery of his vision, the disheveled expensive clothes unable to disguise the narrow, helpless, pale body he knew lived inside them.

A calm came upon him. He’d been here before, time and time over, in various configurations, made ridiculous by his own emotions. Humiliation was an old friend by now, or an obnoxious relative--unavoidable, unpleasant, but you knew what to do with it. A man was what he chose to be. And look at her now.

He straightened up, rubbed his neck, and checked the traces of red on that ended up on his palm. Really not much at all. He sighed and reached out to her. “Hey. It’s all right.” He didn’t speak gently, exactly--there was too much bitterness still stuck in his throat--but softly, like soothing an animal. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. Forgive me.”

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

It was her turn to see something was wrong. She would have kept going, let him slip into the haze of glamor from her venom to wake in the morning with memories of the pleasure. She would have slipped away, left him dozing with a note to eat a decent breakfast to ease any wooziness. 

The motion of his hand made the monster in her want to latch harder, follow his twist and use it to sit atop him again, pin him down. But Sophia didn’t do any of those things. Sophia stopped entirely. Perhaps it was stupid to, but she did. Fangs slid from his neck, and she held onto him only briefly with strength that did not belong to a human to run her tongue along the wounds in a hasty attempt to stop the bleeding. Then, she let go, breaking away to collect herself as she wiped at her lips to hide any excess and the crimson reflections of thirst in her eyes slowly dimmed. This was unchartered territory, a deviation from the norm, and in this moment she wasn’t sure what to do. 

So she froze. 

He rolled away from her and scrambled on his feet, clasping his hand to his neck. He half-expected there to be a gush of blood squelching through his fingers, but all he could feel was moisture. He stumbled, a throbbing heavy blackness clouded his vision, but he steadied his hand on the bed and hung his head with a groan, and it receded. That could not have taken more than a few seconds.

“Sophia, what the fuck?” He lifted his eyes to her, his face tight with anger. Anger overrode fear, and the crouch he found himself in was one made for leaping. But she wasn’t coming for him. She looked every bit a pretty blonde young woman, unsure, her dress hanging half-open, the least threatening thing in the world. If anything, she looked fresher and lovelier. Flushed... “What the fuck?” he repeated, and this time his voice broke on the expletive.

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

Well, she’d made him say more than ‘fuck’, hadn’t she? She might have smirked had she been able to. 

Little moans of content bubbled from Sophia’s chest as she drank. It had been far too long since she had had privacy in a feed, had the chance to savor it for the taste rather than taking what she needed in some ratty booth or dance club and disappearing into the night. That would likely come soon enough– the disappearing– but for the moment she let herself fall into the pleasure. There was no concept of right and wrong beyond the notion of life and death. She was not so far gone as to drain him dry, but in the pleasure of the moment the feeling of shame in enjoying what was in her nature to enjoy was thrown out the window. She felt alive, and she was starting to look it too with the flush of his blood rising with its heat beneath her pale flesh. 

The roll was noticed, but she adapted easily with his hand to hold her there. The shove was registered too, alongside the spike of his heart in panic, and while she didn’t let go, her grip on him did not tighten either. She remained a constant, the holder of power in this moment, but unwilling to exert more unless it was required. A well-manicured hand tugged at the back of his hair gently, almost soothing in its movement. 

It would be the easiest thing in the world to give in, close his eyes, take the delicious oblivion and ask no questions. Slump down next to her when she was done, curl up and fall asleep, think of nothing, maybe ever again. For a moment he wanted that so badly his eyes grew hot and a whimper—fuck, you couldn’t call it anything else—a wet, snivelly, little-boy whimper escaped him. To die; to sleep…

She was drinking his blood.

He shoved harder. The hand that had just now cradled her head to his neck grabbed her hair and yanked it back, and he twisted away from her. “Get off me!”  

[eyeonthemirror]

aspecialprovidence‌:

There was very little attention paid to his hands at the back of her dress. She rocked against him, undid a few more of the buttons on his shirt as she did… This wasn’t just a game to feed from him now… this felt amazing. There was a different kind of lust, one she attempted to quell as she focused on his heart. 

Opening his shirt, her hands ran along his chest. It was the feel of his heart that solidified the ache in her fangs, made the thirst win out, and she was thankful she had remembered to hide her face in his neck when they extended once more. Sophia sought out the previous wounds she had inflicted, hovered over them… and bit deeper than she had in the back of that cab. It wasn’t as deep as the monster in her had desired, but it gave her a far better tap into his vein. He wasn’t sweet like the younger men that she targeted for their vitality, for the ability to bounce back in the club and continue dancing with none the wiser. Henry was tangier, full-bodied… aged. What she might have been had she been granted the chance… She rocked atop him again and formed a greedy seal on the wound with her lips. 

The dress fell off her shoulders, opening her back to his touch, the coarseness of her bra strap bisecting the smooth skin. The way she moved on him, his breath had begun to pick up, and he moved in tandem with her. A hiss of breath as she bit him, much harder this time, the pain sharp for a moment before it disappeared in a flood of bliss. “Fuck, Sophia.” His voice was dry and harsh and he tangled his legs with hers, pressing her hips down to give her what pleasure he could. There was that dizzy feeling again. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, like the rushing of waves.

His hand tangled in her hair. He had no intention to stop this any time soon, but rolled them on their side, cradling her head to his neck. There was a mirror on the wardrobe door. He wanted to see her; and see her he did, her limbs holding on to him like a spider to prey, her golden head moving, gulping. There was a trickle of blood where her mouth latched on to him, like a beautiful leech.

Something was wrong. He shoved at her, a tendril of cold panic cutting through the lust and pleasure. But it was weak. God, whatever the fuck she was doing, it felt amazing.

[eyeonthemirror]