#graveyard-ripper

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

ivory grimes does not knock on misty rucker's door, a habit stemming from long before she knew how easy it is to get under the officer's skin. back then, getting a reaction out of her co-worker had been a touch more difficult, though the flirty dynamic the scholar had eventually coaxed from the older woman was the only effective method to shut her up. the christmas party is long underway, and the doctor's usual professional attire has been replaced with an ( unmistakably short ) black dress and heels. her hair is tugged back in a low bun, subtle ringlets framing porcelain features. 

she approaches the labouring woman with a glass of whiskey, which is ignored upon being set near her dominant hand. as usual, misty rucker dismisses her antics until the last possible moment, though ivory grimes ( especially after a few too many glasses of punch ) is not one to be overlooked. rising from the chair she had occupied, the genius rounds the desk to perch herself on the corner. the red solo cup in her hands is cradled against her chest, dark eyes sparkling with amusement as she crosses lithe, milky legs. ❝ you’re missing the party, officer rucker. trying to outdo my presentation this morning ? ❞ she breaks the silence with the straw caught between white canines. as usual, the psychologist only beams, clearly proud of herself. yeah, she's had a bit too much punch.

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

it is no longer uncommon for the princess to venture into the kitchen, especially in the late hours of the night. though the hushed voices should set off warning signs in the geniuses overactive subconscious, the docile, familiar tone ( from one of the few people she trusts ) ensures her safety. a habit that has become like clockwork, the royal rounds the foot of the staircase into the warm, surprisingly empty kitchen to be met with an unfamiliar ( yet familiar ) face, mimicking the features of the woman opposite the table.

❝ mary anne. ❞ the royal greets, chestnut brown hair falling in subtle waves over her shoulders, scattered with the remnants of a few small braids. the princess does not wear her nightclothes, as she no longer bothers to feign a guise of sleep. instead, an austere, slightly off-white garment hugs her silhouette until it reaches the floor. those warm, doe eyes are wider than usual, stunned by the absolute beauty of the rugged woman that captures her gaze. it is rude to stare, the princess can hear her mother in the back of her mind, though she can not bring herself to look away. ❝ you. . . have a visitor. i apologize for my intrusion. ❞ ivory grimes knows each person permitted within her castle by name, and this is not one of them.

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

it has been a few days since ivory grimes found it necessary to use her office at the station. with a job like hers, the majority of work can be accomplished at home. nevertheless, the day comes when her current files need to be swapped for new cases, and she finds herself rummaging through the cabinets in the early hours of the morning. dressed in plain slacks and a low-cut blouse, her attire differs much from the christmas party. . . is that why everyone is looking at her so funny ?

❝ need some help, grimes ? ❞

kellerman's voice floats from the end of the hallway, where she leans with a cup of coffee and a smirk. the doctor rolls her eyes, turning back to the cabinet she digs through.

❝ do i look like i need help ? ❞ she quips.

❝ depends on who you ask. ❞

the scholar's gaze snaps back to the bemused blonde, murderous only in intensity. the snide remark is perfectly timed ; misty rucker rounds the bend as if on cue, dressed in a plain company t-shirt and work pants, a holster on her hip. the genius feels pale features turn slack, any angry retort dying upon her tongue. god, she looks so fucking hot.

❝ rucker, why don't you carry those heavy files for our baby genius ? ❞ kellerman snickers, bemused gaze locked on the now dazed brunette as she takes a sip from her mug.

❝ i . . . don't ❞ the doctor hears herself start to stutter, though the words die upon her tongue. all she can think about is the memory of those hands on her body.

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

ivory grimes is blessed with a handmaiden who cares for her with the devotion of a mother, and a cook who tends to her with equal tenderness. if not for the knowing gaze of those two women, no one would know the slight puffiness around the edges of carefully lined eyes is due to an afternoon of tears. the princess is an expert at donning a crafted facade, a polished demeanour that paints her as perfect, though a trained eye can see the cracks in that porcelain veneer.

her dress is simple for someone of royal status, though more elegant than her daily attire. the princess has never been one to draw attention to herself with lavish ensembles, though even in the simple garment, with dark hair falling in waves across pale shoulder, she catches the eye of most in the room. it is the one night each year katherine plans extensively for ; the castle is flooded with the land's most wealthy suitors, housing rulers from both near and far. equally, it is the night ivory dreads ( the presence of strangers in the place she considers safe does not sit well with the young ruler, and combined with their extensive trysts to woo her, she is visibly on edge. )

the brunette retreats to the kitchen under the guise of powdering her nose, hands trembling on the precipice of an anxiety attack. where she expects to find the cook, she instead finds an empty room, fire crackling as the staff hustle about the great hall upstairs. when the royal turns to retreat, she is instead met at the staircase by mary anne's daughter. it is no secret ( to the cook ) that the princess has developed a fondness for the older woman, and ivory falls into sturdy arms with equal ease. ❝ i . . . i can't breathe . . . ❞ she pants, her voice trembling on the precipice of panic.

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

shoes click against vinyl, haste echoing through the hospital corridors. detective kellerman had made a point to seek the psychologist out during her lunch break, delivering news that made her blood run cold mid-presentation. the briefing was wrapped up quickly by the stammering professional, who excused herself under the excuse of a family emergency ( in reality, those familiar with the office dynamic, and her relationship with misty rucker, knew all too well that she was lying. )

room 304, the nurse at the front desk had practically yelled it after the rushing brunette, who was willing to take it upon herself to check every room before the employee could flip through her lengthy chart of patients. when she rounds the doorframe without bothering to knock, dark, widened eyes land on misty rucker ( resting in a hospital bed and looking very much alive, aside from her casual appearance. ) the doctor freezes where she stands, some of the colour returning to her complexion.

❝ what the hell were you thinking ! ❞ she finally spits, her pulse kickstarting once more as she rushes to the detective's bedside. ❝ you're an idiot, you didn't even call. you could have ❞ the moment clammy hands grab hold of the older woman's much stronger knuckles, the doctor feels another presence looming in the room. stunned features turn, resting upon a woman who vividly resembles the detective in appearance. oops.

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

it is a beautiful afternoon across the royal landscape ; the sun rises high without a cloud in sight, and even the castle workers seem in good spirits. it is the type of day where the princess would remain perched on the library windowsill, a book in her lap as she allows the sun to warm often glacial skin. of course, she spends the rainy days there too, curled up in the armchair in front of the fireplace. 

"misty is outside chopping firewood," mary anne had chimed upon catching sight of the princess, who wandered into the kitchen in search of water. upon seeing the colour that floods high in the royal's cheeks at the mere mention of her daughter, the cook continued.  "perhaps you should check if she requires assistance."

initially, the princess had merely giggled, the concept as humorous as it was unthinkable. only a few hours later, the young monarch finds herself braving the summer sun. ivory approaches with said water in hand, seating herself in the shade of a nearby tree until the sweaty, muscular woman pauses her work. ❝ you'll fall ill from the heat if you do not drink. ❞ she comments, though the colour that rises in her own cheeks is not from the sun ( unlike her peculiar companion. )

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper​

      the night had begun in wrath, then driven to sorrow, ending in adoration and eventually pleasure. usually, ivory grimes has no complaints about how she winds up pinned beneath her lover. their dynamic is just as confusing now as it was on the day they met. nonetheless, any demands from the embalmer to keep quiet are met with the unfamiliar agreement of 'yes, babe' despite that said requests are a futile expectancy ( though surely the older woman discreetly comprehends an unfortunate reality       her ultimatum is not going to be adhered to. )

        sunlight had long bled through dark curtains when dark hues flutter open ;  for once, the doctor is not awake hours before her grumpy counterpart. it's later in the morning, evident from the gentle clanging that can be heard from the kitchen, and ivory rolls over in the mess of white sheets until she can tuck herself into the crook of the older woman's arm, muttering sleepily as the bridge of her nose touches to misty's jawline.  ❝ hm . . . time is it, babe ? ❞

[delxsive]

@graveyard-ripper

the sun glistens as it reflects against a surprisingly undisturbed ocean, the sand, and finally, porcelain skin, illuminating what is so often untouched. at first, it had seemed strange to the doctor to be so bare around the rucker family ( or rather, in front of anyone who is not misty rucker. ) though as the holiday gathering persisted and heat continued to rise, causing even that thin tank top to stick to now sunkissed skin with the dampness of sweat, misty's lips had brushed against her temple in loving, gentle reassurance. it will be okay.

the genius waits for a tranquil moment within the constant, familial chaos, watching as misty splashes in the water with an overly excited saint bernard. after a long exaggerated moment of hesitation, the garment is drawn over her head to expose a plain black bikini top. any attempts to appear unbothered are futile, her heart hammers uncontrollably as the white tank top lands amongst the sand where she sits. ❝ esme . . . ❞ the doctor begins, albeit awkwardly as waves of umber hair are swept from her shoulder's and up into an elastic. ❝ uh. can you ? ❞ she holds up the bottle of sunscreen, and suddenly the slight sunburn across her ashen cheeks increases tenfold.