Catch me I'm falling

The Elijah Nolan Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. 

[risingorfalling-blog]

reincaranation:

“You know what,” she uttered, nudging him slightly. Of course, she hadn’t missed his glance at Isaiah either, knowing it had been rather EASY to get into the way of their friendship. She was positive that Isaiah never quite liked her while Brad’s opinion didn’t really matter. Either way, she found herself sticking around despite one of the team leaders not necessarily wanting her there. From her perspective, Isaiah and Brad were disposable.

They weren’t going to bring in the views. DRAMA would gather an audience, and what’s better than a not-so-secret relationship within the group? Absolutely nothing. Fans would have their favorite members and so would companies looking for a brand deal. Cara wasn’t going to sit idly and let some sentimental friendship ruin their chance at Hollywood.  

“Of course I’m right,” she insisted, looking at him. “Isaiah is … useful in his own way, but he’s no team leader. And we need someone strong for these business deals. No way are we accepting something that’s not during prime time or with a popular network.”

“We better film some content for those YouTube videos between all the meetings. Don’t want to disappoint the original fans - you know how they feel about change.” Again, not that she really CARED for it. Fans would always come and go. And while they should’ve been concerned with the idea of losing viewers, even more were to be gained with this tv show.

“What?” He repeated, feigned ignorance completely undermined by the wide grin still pulling at his lips. Would it still be like this -- the four of them, more of a family to Elijah than his own had ever been, together and happy and reaching the heights -- once they got to L.A.? Once they signed the television deal Elijah had to believe was coming their way? 

Certainly some things were bound to change; their entire trajectory had been altered from the moment they chose to investigate those strange rumors of a haunting, only to find out it had all been a cover for something very real and very sinister. 

Not all change was bad, either. Cara made a good point: Isaiah was hardly the person who should take point in business deals. That was a job for Eli. The team leader. “No way. If they try to tell us our ghost hunting show is in the middle of the afternoon or some shit, we’re walking. We’d be better of just sticking to Youtube, it’s not like we don’t already have a following. We’re in the power position here, so long as we play it right.”

And play it right he would, if he was in charge. 

Him and Cara; she’d always had a good eye for this sort of thing too, something she was still proving even now. “Of course. We take them on this journey with us. Make them as excited as we are. Especially us,” he added with a conspiratorial grin, gesturing between the two of them with a finger after shooting another glance at Isaiah to make sure he was still asleep. It was no secret some of them popped on camera more than the others. They had to put their best foot forward; Isaiah would understand that, surely.

[risingorfalling-blog]

reincaranation:

She resisted rolling her eyes at Brad’s song choices. It was bad enough that they had to DRIVE - honestly, tickets hadn’t been that expensive - and the scenery wasn’t exactly captivating either ( farms upon farms of nothing ). Then again, the only thing that mattered had been that they were getting out of that boring old town. Cara always wanted bigger, BETTER things in life; and she had paved her path towards them, the limelight barely in her reach. 

So CLOSE. 

And yet the repeating song and dog drool brought her back to reality, knowing there was still work to done before they became established in Hollywood. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to share the stardom, hoping to kick the other two out. A reality tv show would’ve garnered much more views than a program focused on ghost-hunting ( even if they were in high demand for it ). 

Guess they’d just have to ride their ten minutes of fame before BENDING it for their own means. Elijah brushed his fingers against her, and she gave him a look in return. They couldn’t exactly hide their relationship now … even if it would be a good charade for the show. In her mind, they had already gotten a slot on television, their names signed into fine print as the contract solidified this business opportunity.

“They have to. I’m not going through this drive again, especially when it’s a return ticket back home. If anything we’ll have to push them to give it to us. We’re not just some silly farmers, we’ve caught an entire crime scheme.” 

“You should do all the talking though, you are the team leader.”

“What?” Elijah flashed her a flippant grin when she gave him a Look; he was used to finding himself on the receiving end of them, and he’d always found it cute rather than the chastisement she likely intended. Of course, he knew perfectly well what her look was getting at, but he didn’t see the point in making any changes to their relationship unless and until they found themselves with a solid television deal. 

Part of him was worried about where that conversation would lead. 

But his playful grin turned to something else when she answered him, a flash of the ambition he’d never been able to tamper out even in regards to what started as a silly side project sparking in his eyes. The team leader. His gaze flickered toward Isaiah asleep on the seat in front of him. There would be no Mystery Inc. without Isaiah. But Cara had a point: Elijah thought to capture their adventures on camera, Elijah brought Cara and Brad into the mix, Elijah became the unofficial spokesman after their crime bust and Elijah made all the arrangement to get them to this meeting in L.A. in the first place. 

“You’re right,” he agreed after a half-second’s pause. So that was decided, then. Besides -- “They wouldn’t have invited us out if they thought we were just farmers. Our following on Youtube speaks for itself. People are already demanding we get our own show. We need to think of it as a matter of whether we want to let this network to produce it. For all they know, we’ve got three more meetings lined up while we’re in town.” And some people thought Elijah was just the pretty one. Ha. 

[risingorfalling-blog]

Location: The minivan, fall 2012

Closed: @reincaranation

Mystery Inc. was never intended as something more than a way to kill time one long summer in the middle-of-nowhere, Wyoming. Isaiah an Elijah commandeering his mom’s minivan one weekend to go check out some haunted library Isaiah about online. It was a bust -- but it was enough to spark an interest, enough to have them planning trips to more promising locations farther away until there were four of them instead of two. As it turned out, having Brad follow them with a video camera had been a good choice after all; once they busted that crime ring while checking out a haunted relocation center and made national news, their Youtube channel exploded, and the next thing he knew they piled into his mom’s van headed to L.A. to meet with some television executive.

Chumbawamba blasted over the speakers from the front seat -- Brad’s song choice that had been playing so long Elijah had passed hating it and circled back to indifference -- and Isaiah seemed to have tuned it out from where he sat in the middle section of the vehicle, passed out with his face against the window. 

Which left Cara and Elijah in the back, the closest they ever tended to get to privacy in their tight-knit group, so long as he ignored Hitchcock sprawled across both their laps, drooling on the floor. Elijah flashed her a grin, reaching for her hand after poking Isaiah’s head lightly to make sure he really was asleep. Their relationship wasn’t necessarily a well-kept secret, but it was a secret all the same. He couldn’t help but hope that whatever was waiting for them in L.A., that wasn’t going to change. This was the first chance they’d had to talk about that, just the two of them. “So...you think they’re actually gonna give us a tv show?”

[risingorfalling-blog]

countingbluecars:

Isaiah ran his fingers through the long and messy curls that sat on top his head, his eyes burned from staring at his laptop since ten the previous night but he’d gotten so engrossed in his photo editing that he’d just kept making more coffee instead of sleeping.

He’d almost forgotten that there was a new housemate supposedly coming to the place until there was a knock on the door. “Tips!” Isaiah yelled for his housemate, “Stop kissing your cacti and answer the fucking door!”

“Is the guy for your room, ‘saiah, you answer the door!” was yelled back at him through the thin walls, along with a rustling and a gentle tap of a flower pot being set on a desk.

“Fuck,” Isaiah muttered as he gently placed his laptop down — the macbook was his pride and joy; having been meticulously saved for through the summer months since he was sixteen — and jumped up to answer the door. Swinging it open, Isaiah looked square at the other guy’s neck before cluing in he was taller and adjusting his gaze. A beaming grin worked its way onto Isaiah’s face. “Hey! You’re Elijah right? Eli. I’m calling you Eli.” He nodded at his own statement, flipping a hand up to gesture Eli into the house.

“You’re the kid just comin’ t’LA right? Craigslist?” Isaiah paused. “Fuck please be that guy because we’ve had some people pretending and if my camera gets stolen again I don’t think I could replace it.” Shutting the door ( having to force it to click shut with a shoulder and a jump ), Isaiah walked to the kitchen. There were dishes everywhere, but they weren’t too dirty ( just a lil worn ) like they’d been washed but not put away, or at leased rinsed. “Welcome to the Shithole. I’m Isaiah and if you’re Eli then we’re gonna be roomies.”

His knock was met with muffled shouting Eli couldn’t quite make out. Briefly he wondered if he’d gotten the right address. Then the door swung open to reveal curly hair and a face as youthful as his own. He was met with pure energy, Isaiah adopting his nickname and ushering him inside before he could get a word in. Which seemed questionable, given Eli had yet to confirm who he was. And they’d apparently been robbed before. But here Isaiah was, shutting Eli in and not pausing long enough for him to confirm who he was before he was talking again.

It was all slightly overwhelming on the heels of a two day bus ride with very little sleep. “The Shithole,” Eli repeated, pausing to take the place in. The kitchen was cramped and covered with dishes of questionable cleanliness. Everything was clearly outdated, possibly broken from the looks of it. He glanced in the other direction, taking in the small living room – worn-out sofa with an iron stain on the cushion; video game controllers and empty beer cans in a tangled heap on the coffee table that had one leg balanced on what looked like a decades-old phone book; and a weird amount of cacti. The Shithole.

This was nothing like the white-picket-fence home he’d left in Chicago. It was perfect. “Sweet, dude! I’m Eli, yeah,” he answered with a wide grin, holding out his free hand in a fist to bump. “I gotta say, I’m kinda relieved you’re not some weirdo. I mean…” He squinted at Isaiah, tilting his head slightly. “Guess you still could be, but I need a place to sleep.” A shrug. “Show me where I can put my shit?”

[risingorfalling-blog]

When: July 2012 Where: The Shithole Who: @countingbluecars

Eli had been on a bus for 47 hours, shoved up between a window and an old woman who smelled like mothballs and spent half the bus ride telling him about her cats and her grandchildren and her time working for NASA. That last one was unexpected, as was his leaving the bus with the hat she’d been knitting and her granddaughter’s phone number. He chose to take both things as a good sign of things to come. It didn’t matter that the Back to the Future hoodie he’d left Chicago in was unbelievably wrinkled and way too hot for the LA heat. It didn’t matter that his only possessions were a duffel bag and the backpack slung over his shoulders. It didn’t matter that if this place he’d found on Craigslist turned out to be a bust or a drug den he could very well end up camped out on the streets tonight. 

He was finally here.

He was finally free.

His dreams were finally coming true.

One day, everyone he’d left back in Chicago with nothing more than a post-it on the fridge that read “LA Bound -- don’t call until the 1st, almost out of minutes”  -- they would be eating their words when they saw his face on the big screen.

At first glance, the house was small, especially considering it supposedly housed four people already. It looked old, too, and not particularly well kept. Eli didn’t care. He was positively beaming, a spring in his step as he walked up to the door and knocked. 

[risingorfalling-blog]

prayhavoc:

Belial watched the human’s travels through his apartment, anger seeping out of every pore and doing wonders for the ache in Belial’s chest. The slash across Elijah’s face was a surprise, as was the dented award, but it wasn’t in him to care whether or not Elijah would recover fully from the injury. The world wouldn’t last long enough for it to matter. Pushing away from the window, he shifted his full attention on his farrier and raised a brow, “And what, exactly, do you hope to accomplish with a gun?”

“Seriously?” Elijah fixed Belial with a seething look, half-convinced the horseman was just trying to piss him off further. That was what Elijah was there for, after all. The fucker.  “Oh I don’t know, how about not getting my face slashed open next time someone comes at me with a knife and you’re too busy with an angel wielding a cup to help a guy out?” Being the only person on the team without any kind of advantage over the rest of humanity was getting old fast, especially after tonight. There was a reason Abaddon and Heath both came out unscathed and he was the one that didn’t. He let out an angry huff of breath, squinting at Belial for a moment. “You can’t, like, bleed out, can you?”

[risingorfalling-blog]

[risingorfalling-blog]

prayhavoc:

The night had gone according to plan, or rather, as close to the plan as Belial could make it when the band of Goody Two Shoes chose to make another attempt at ‘saving the world’. When would they realize there was no saving it, he wondered. It had been on it’s way to an inevitable end long before he’d been released onto the world, and none of them seemed to see what he did. Realize that it was over and had been for a very, very long time. The large gash in his chest continued to bleed sluggishly, but Belial didn’t pay it any mind. The angel’s attempt to put an end to him was rather lackluster, but he’d enjoyed watching the rage and bloodlust course through them, as brief as it was. Speaking of–he felt Elijah’s presence long before the human made his way into Belial’s apartment. Taking a deep breath, the smirk on his lips only grew as Elijah’s ire surrounded him and he could breath a touch more easily, despite the gaping wound in his chest. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

The door made a satisfying thud as it closed behind him, Elijah’s gaze instantly snagging on the blood seeping from Belial’s chest. Good. It didn’t seem fair that just Eli should come out of the night -- his night -- with blood staining his clothes. Just like it wasn’t fair that Belial would likely recover perfectly, feeding off Elijah’s anger alone, while he was probably going to be left with a scar for the rest of his life. 

At least it wouldn’t be long, would it? 

He matched Belial’s smirk. “Yeah, always dreamed of ending the night with a knife in my face and a dented award. But thanks,” he snapped. The night had gone according to plan, more or less. Eli got his face on every television in the world. Team Sunshine and Rainbows was no closer to stopping them than they’d been before, and hopefully even more discouraged. But anger still clawed at the hollow in his chest. He stomped further into the room and set his bloodied trophy on a shelf before turning back to Belial. “I need a gun.”

[risingorfalling-blog]

@prayhavoc

His tux was smeared with blood and dust, bow-tie undone and askew around his neck. Blood had finally stopped dripping out of the angry gash that split his face in two, but his skin was stained with dried blood and the pain had yet to dissipate. His head was pounding from where that bitch headbutted him so hard he’d passed out. Somewhere, Adele and Isaiah were cursing him, assuming they were both still alive. Elijah desperately wanted to care whether or not that was true. And then there was the trophy he’d sold his soul for, scratched and dented and ruined. Eli was pissed, which was exactly how the Warmonger liked him. So he could think of no better place to be right now, than letting himself into the other’s apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. “What the fuck, dude?”

[risingorfalling-blog]

Almost Had Me || Adele & Elijah

[risingorfalling-blog]

davisadele:

         She didn’t fully understand. Try as she might to see it from his point of view, Adele couldn’t imagine wanting something so much that she was willing to sell her soul for it. Even if it meant seeing her mother again or Jairus, seeking out advice on what to do as her own thoughts were swirling at the moment, she couldn’t. But she wanted to understand. She wanted to know what had been going through his head that made this choice be the best rather than to keep trying his best without selling himself for an easy fix. “Make me understand,” she pleaded with him, asking him for help in seeing it through his eyes when she could barely recognize the man before her from the one she’d met months ago to the one five minutes ago who was telling her that he loved her. “I’m not giving up on you, I’m not, but I don’t… I need your help in helping me see it because if I had known… Elijah, if you had told me how things were…” She wanted to believe that she could have helped him in some way rather than be ignorant to the way he’d needed this route to get to his dreams. It felt like a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, paired with the sharp pain that radiated from the way he held onto her hand – but she was steadfast. No, she wasn’t going to give up on him. He’d sold his soul to achieve his dreams, but that didn’t make him a completely different person – just one that she didn’t know as well as she thought she had. “Of course I’ll talk to you,” she told him with an incredulous look on her face, shaking it off with a twist of her lips that didn’t turn into the smile she’d hoped for when everything felt wrong. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t giving up on you, Eli. I love you. I do.” She just didn’t know if he truly felt the same, now that she knew the truth about his soul being gone.

Make her understand? Eli wasn’t sure he knew how. They were both sitting here, clinging to each other, pleading and desperate for the same thing -- but the distance between them was like a chasm. It was starting to feel a lot like he’d already lost her. Or maybe he’d just lost too much of himself to keep holding on. Maybe that would be easier, in the end. But Adele hadn’t let go of him yet, and that was enough to keep him hanging on as hard as he could, even if it was futile. “You believed in me so much, Addy....I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he answered in a whisper, voice cracking with the painful realization that he’d disappointed her all the same. “You don’t know what it was like. When I moved out here, my family --” The people Elijah never talked about, though Adele knew more than most. “They were all just waiting for me to fail, and I couldn’t -- Adele, I couldn’t live with myself if they were all right about me. But they were right. I was working so hard, but I was dead in the water the second I got here. I was nothing. Hard work isn’t enough here, you need connections. Only they’re impossible to make, unless you’re born to it. But I made one.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I gave up less for a deal with a demon than what some bullshit casting directors wanted from me. And Belial actually delivered. I played the game, Adele. Hollywood is a fucking game. And I won.” 

He’d paid a price, surely. But was it any more than thousands of others had given for so much less than what Eli got out of it? Not to him. But he still wasn’t certain Adele would see it that way. He was positive she wouldn’t agree with what he was going to do tonight. But she’d given her word, now, and Elijah had to believe that meant she would keep it. He couldn’t bear to think otherwise. “I love you too, Addy. I do,” he repeated, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself that it was true. 

[risingorfalling-blog]

countingbluecars:

Isaiah swallowed. Was this really what Eli was here for? Or was it just a trick? He kept his eyes trained on Eli, not quite sure what he was planning. “Well now you’ve congratulated me. Hope you can make it to the wedding.”

If there was even going to be a wedding.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Eli was supposed to be his best man, Isaiah and him were supposed to have a night out on the town where they get too sloshed and were too loud and had too much fun before he got married ( though had marriage ever been factored in before? ).

“You can leave now.” Isaiah looked down at the floor, his expression betrayed that he wasn’t feeling nearly as flippant as his words were making it seem. He missed Eli. He missed having his best friend and he missed everything. This wasn’t fair.

The only good thing to come out of the apocalypse was Grace and him getting married and was that even fair to Grace?

He gripped the door and moved to close it before stopping. “Why did you decide— Why did you— Why?” Isaiah said the words quietly, wanting answers. Wanting and wanting and wanting even if he didn’t quite want to hear the answer. He had to know. “Why did you choose the horsemen?” He let out a forced laugh. “I know Belial is hot and all but still… I’m cuter.”

It was hard to say how Elijah felt about the way Isaiah fixed his gaze on him, a mouse watching a cat, waiting for the attack. Did Isaiah really think Eli was here to try something? If Eli wanted him -- or anyone -- dead, he didn’t need to play games to do it.

“So I am invited, then,” he answered, jovial grin twisted into something darker as the expression contorted the gash on his face. It dropped almost instantly at Isaiah’s dismissal. No. This was not how this went. Elijah didn’t care if the world was falling to pieces around them and nobody wanted him there -- he was going to be standing next to Isaiah on his wedding day, because that was where he belonged. 

He grabbed the door at the same time Isaiah did, ready for a fight to keep it open -- but then Isaiah stopped. To ask him....why? A cold, humorless laugh left Eli’s lips. Darkness clawed at his chest. As if it had ever been that simple: his friends or the horsemen. 

The truth was, Eli thought he could have both. Not forever, not with the world coming to an end. But there had been a time when Eli cared about making sure people like Isaiah and Adele and Grace were untouched by whatever the horsemen were doing. A pained expression flickered across his face. 

“I didn’t....” Elijah’s throat constricted, and he trailed off. He hadn’t known what he was getting into until it was too late, until War was consuming the hollow void in his chest. There was nothing left of him, now. But that didn’t mean he was nothing. A sneer twisted its way back across his face. Elijah pushed back on the door, forcing it open wider, and took a step closer so he was looking down at Isaiah. Then he leaned in closer, so all he had to do was murmur and the other would still hear him. “Jealous, Isaiah?”

[risingorfalling-blog]

thyvillainy:

where: l.a., looting & fun stuff when: present day closed to: @risingorfalling or @abaddonian or bOTH

Heath strolled through Los Angeles like it was just another day. He stepped over blood and bodies like they were nothing more than dirt, casually whistling a tune to himself as he walked. Staying in his apartment was boring, the streets were where the fun was and Heath desperately wanted something to do. Or drink. Mainly he wanted something to drink. Flexing his hands at his sides, he kept his pace toward Delirium. The place was closed, that much was for sure but nothing was ever really closed to him. Breaking into the nightclub was easy, a simple shoving open of the locked door sending it flying opening. Weaving around knocked over tables and chairs, Heath kept pace toward the bar, only to come to a stop in front of it. Surprise danced over his face before it melded into a look of delight. Excellent. One of his fellow farriers. “I must say I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Their little venture overseas a success, Elijah felt strangely out of sorts upon returning to L.A. The first place he truly felt at home was gone, bright lights and bustling streets turned to ruin. There was a grim satisfaction to the destruction; how could he have known, when he’d left everything behind with the hopes of leaving his mark on the city, that this was how he would do it? He walked the streets freely, content with the knowledge that his ties to Belial meant no one would stop him. It was hard to say why his feet led to him to Delirium, picking through the disaster he and Belial left behind after one of their “nights on the town.”  It was same place where he’d as good as signed his soul away for a second time. That could make a person awfully introspective, but that person wasn’t Eli. Instead he found his way to the bar, stepping around a corpse to look for a glass that wasn’t broken and looking up from his task when he heard a familiar voice. “Heath!” He greeted cheerfully. Eli felt something of a kinship with his fellow farrier. Both empty. Both betrayed perhaps the only person either was capable of loving. What a pair they made. “That makes two of us, my dude. Guess it’s your lucky day.” He flashed a smile that twisted the gash across his face. “Here for a drink? I can make you an Apocalypse Special.”

[risingorfalling-blog]

countingbluecars:

“Fuck off, asshole!” Isaiah shouted the words through his door from his place on the couch. He knew the voice, but did he really know the person it belonged to anymore? Was it really Eli that was pounding on his door or what it just some husk of his best friend?

An angry huff, and Isaiah got up — placing his laptop on the cushion beside him on the couch — and went to the door. He opened it quickly. “The fuck do you want?”

He stared up at Eli, their height difference just adding to Isaiah’s annoyance — he couldn’t be properly threatening to someone that was more than a few inches taller than him — and he didn’t know why his best friend had decided to come to him today. He found he didn’t really care what bullshit reason Eli would come up with. Wasn’t he all honeyed words just like Belial was? Wasn’t he just lies and lies and lies and the truth that Isaiah always so desperately wanted was nothing more than a thin thread weaving more lies together?

“I see you finally decided to improve your face,” he spat the words out but they didn’t hold the right edge to them. Isaiah couldn’t stop himself from being concerned about his oldest friend’s wound. It showed in his face; it showed in the way that his eyes widened a bit at seeing the angry gash on Eli’s face, and the way that they stuttered away from the wound. “Why the fuck are you even here, Eli?”

Tell me, he thought, tell me the truth for once in your god damn life. The thoughts showed on his face, with a screw up of his mouth and a swallow, but he didn’t voice them.

There was a painful familiarity to the words barked out from behind the door. An insult carelessly flung at each other time and again without any real meaning, but today there was a distinct harshness to them. But Elijah was undeterred. Isaiah was going to open the door, he was certain of that. 

And when he did, Elijah met his stare with a smirk. He had the upper hand, not just in size but in the proof that his old friend couldn’t just ignore him beating on his door. Or the gash across his face, the edge to Isaiah’s words, the way his eyes widened then flickered away from the wound, too concerned for Elijah to think he meant the insult.  

So he ignored it, holding Isaiah’s gaze, wanting so desperately to feel something, then. His best friend, his oldest friend, Isaiah was the only person who hadn’t given up on him yet. The last remnant of the person Eli had once been. Something twisted inside of him, a sharp tugging in his chest for a moment. I don’t know, he wanted to say. Or maybe, help me. 

Then moment passed, and the ache in his chest was all that was left. “Thought I’d come congratulate you,” he said, smirk finding its way back onto his lips. “You know, for the engagement you never told me about.” He’d been hurt, when he found out from Grace on the red carpet. Or maybe he’d just wanted to feel hurt. To feel anything, over the betrayal, when he should have been the first to know. When he should have been planning a bachelor party as best man. Fuck if he wasn’t still going to do that. “Lucky for you I’m the forgiving type. There aren’t a lot of options for a bachelor party these days,” there was hardly anything left at all, “But I’ve got connections. We’ll work something out buddy, got to make sure to give you a proper send off.” 

[risingorfalling-blog]

Almost Had Me || Adele & Elijah

[risingorfalling-blog]

davisadele:

He wanted her to understand. Needed her to see it through his eyes at what he’d done, stating that it wasn’t solely tonight but what else could it have been for? What else would it have been worth the loss of one’s soul? She sat still, painfully straight in her seat as her gaze fell to their hands and didn’t stray as the fear in seeing someone different once more in his eyes was overwhelming. Elijah had been there, the Elijah she knew and loved and the Elijah who had told her the exact same thing back to her rather than the man who sold his soul for fame. Adele struggled to comprehend what all he was asking of her, knowing that once it was gone – there was no getting it back as she wanted to cry in pain for the loss that he must have felt the day he sold it away. It made her lips shake with sorrow, holding back anything at all that she could have possibly said when not one of those words matched up to the overfill of emotions that were playing her like a fool. “But you were chasin’ it on your own, you were workin’ so hard for it… you were gonna get it.” And he was. One day, maybe not that day or the one right after it but Adele believed that he would get there one day with the amount of passion and drive that he possessed in his soul. ( the one so completely absent from him now ) As her words shook, fear lacing every syllable that fell off her tongue, she glanced upwards to see the man across from her – not wanting to remark how different he seemed, how different he felt in her hand, and how different he looked now that she knew the truth. “Elijah, what have you done?” A watery cry slipped out as she raised her free hand to cover her mouth, wanting to hold it back as her heart felt crushed at the knowledge that he was damned. His soul was gone. But he was still there, for now. “You sold your soul. You gave it up for your dream but that’s not how this is supposed to work, that’s not how life works.. if a dream doesn’t pan out, you don’t… give up, you find a new one. A better one.” Her hand squeezed his as she spoke, wishing that she’d been able to see how miserable he felt, how lost he was while chasing his dream in hopes that she might have been able to help him. She sucked in a sob, feeling it catch in the back of her throat as she stared at him fully now, a silent prayer crossing her lips as she felt like her Elijah was still there but barely holding on. “Elijah…  you’re still here. You’re not gone.” Not yet.

She didn’t understand. Elijah could see it her eyes, in the way she looked at him as if for the first time, before she even answered. The ache in his chest got worse. Maybe he’d always known she wouldn’t understand. That she was too good, too pure to understand the hunger that clawed at Eli since he was a boy. The voices that lived in his head, his parents and grandparents and siblings and cousins, calling him selfish and ungrateful just because he dared to dream of a life beyond rows of shitty houses that all looked the same. He’d sworn when he left Chicago that he was going to make them eat their words, and now he’d done it. That wasn’t what Adele saw, though. She saw someone who’d given up. Given up? How did she not see that wasn’t at all what he’d done? “I didn’t give up, Addy. I got it.” The words were pleading, just as desperate as before, but even as he said them he knew they weren’t going to change her mind. She was broken, watery eyes and held-back sobs as she looked at him like he was already beyond saving. His grip on her hand felt as delicate as his grip on himself. It didn’t matter how hard he was holding on, squeezing her so tight his knuckles were turning white with his grip. What mattered now was that Adele was holding on back. She still was, for now, and he clung to her words like a life raft. “Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t give up on me.” But it didn’t matter. If she was this close now -- how would she take the worst of what he’d done, the darkness he hadn’t even touched on yet? He’d had every intention of telling her about tonight. About his plans. But it felt like that hollow pain in his chest was spreading, settling over more of him. He couldn’t bear to let her go -- but he wasn’t sure he could hold onto her any longer, either. He took a breath. “Just -- promise me something, please? Promise you’ll talk to me after tonight.” Let her think it was to talk over the lack of his soul, to talk about them. She would understand what he really meant after the events of the night unfolded. And resent him as she may after that -- surely Adele wouldn’t break a promise. Right?

[risingorfalling-blog]

starofgrace:

Grace stared at him with disbelief, this couldn’t have been the same Elijah … the same Elijah that had been on press tour with her, the same actor that always seemed to make her laugh on set for the sake of having bloopers. Isaiah’s best friend. Her costar. Nothing seemed to make sense, how could – how could he have done that? How could he have allowed such a thing to happen?

Or had he been lying the entire time?

Did the late-nights of tired filming not matter? Or the cast and crew that worked months  for something they felt so proud to be part of? Grace felt her hands shake, fingers gripping onto her gown. Meanwhile he held his oscar ( something she now found him to be not-so deserving of ) while taunting the recent gruesome event.  

“ – people are dead, Elijah. Filmmakers we both looked up to might not make it out alive. The - the entire academy is broken.” 

“Don’t you care?” It couldn’t have been so simple as that, she couldn’t have misread his character so blindly. 

There was a grim sort of satisfaction to the disbelief plastered across her face, to the way her dress was just as ruined as his own tux. For as much as he’d always liked her, Elijah had always been jealous of Grace. She was born to fame, born with all the connections Eli could only dream of having. The jealousy had never been loud, tempered always by respect for her talent and professionalism, and a genuine warmth toward her. But those were gone now, jealousy the only thing that could fill the hole in his chest. How could anyone say she was more deserving of her fame than he was? She’d had it handed to her; he gave up everything for his. 

“The Academy?” He scoffed at her, face twisting into a cruel sneer. “That’s what you’re worried about? Just be glad you’re not dead, Grace.” Elijah was glad she wasn’t dead, or he wanted to be. At one point he’d been worried about her, caught in the chaos. Now, he couldn’t even feel that anymore.

Did he care?

"I don’t care about anything.”

[chvrchesrp]

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[benji-dalton-blog]

o brother where art thou | elijah + dom

[risingorfalling-blog]

no-mercy-mercier:

The stripe across his face was almost maniacal. An ugly, garish symbol of what had happened to him. How a man had turned into a monster.

More or less. 

It was a shame—putting it lightly, maybe, but Dom had never known him well enough to be truly personally devastated. He was, however, surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed. Not only for Adele, should his suspicions be confirmed, but for the Sinners. For how easily they were proving to be manipulated. Shouldn’t it be the Saints, the naive, who were subject to corruption? Didn’t the Church of Sinners represent an inner, individual strength? There was power in free will, in self-acceptance and shamelessness. 

But was this truly what their paths were meant to look like? What kind of power is that of one with the Horsemen, when soon there would be nothing left to power at all? 

Could one man be that bored with himself, that all this became worth it? For a mediocre movie? 

It was sort of pathetic, actually, and it made Dom angry. 

He curbed his frustration, however, eyes scanning the red soon-to-be scar. 

“Of course it’s dangerous.” He stepped closer, making to the power, waving a hand for a shot. Fuck if he was going to do this bone-dry sober. “But do I strike you as a coward? I’m here for you, dip shit. How could I not seek out the man who held a lighter to the bomb under the table.” The sarcasm rolls in, a heavy drawl on his tongue. He shifted, then straightened his jaw. Looked down. “Was it worth it? All the fame—and for what? I mean, how does it feel? Look around. No one cares now, and in three days, when the world’s gone to shit, you think anyone’s going to give a shit about some sci-fi movie? Jesus, Elijah. What were you thinking?”

Elijah could feel the other man’s eyes on the gash across his face but he held Dom’s gaze, unflinching. Any judgment the other might pass was meaningless to Elijah. He’d joined the Sinners when he sold his soul, because it was the only option for him, but his allegiance never ran deep. What was a god, what was a devil when Horsemen walked the earth?

Nothing. They were nothing. 

And if Dom thought he could get anything from Elijah now, well. It was hard to pinpoint at exactly what point he’d become unreachable. Maybe it was yesterday morning, when Adele looked at him like he’d failed her. Or maybe it was too late for him even before that, the hope Adele promised nothing more than a mirage.  

He turned Dom’s words over in his mind. The man who held a lighter to the bomb under the table. That had a nice ring to it. Put Elijah right at the center of things. Right where he belonged. A pity he still didn’t see the full picture. 

“A movie?” Eliah let out a humorless laugh. “You think this was all about the movie?” Dom sounded just like Adele, pinning everything he’d given up on one event. The movie. The Oscars. It had never been about either of those. It was about being seen, being recognized, being remembered, especially by those who would have preferred to forget him.  

A smirk pulled at his lips, eyes flashing with sinister amusement. “Look around, genius. The world is ending. It’s done. There’s no stopping it. If you want to go out playing buddy-buddy with the Saints, then so be it. As for me? I chose the winning side. I chose to enjoy the time we’ve got left. So -- yeah,” he finished, a mocking lightness coloring his tone. “I’d say it was worth it.”

He held Dom’s gaze a beat. “Is that it, or did you also want an autograph?”