Of Decrescendos, Curls, and Espressos

Ender Esperit | Twenty-One | Student | Musician

[peytonswatching-blog]

"She?"

[the-espressoist]

Ender quickly lowered his eyes once more, his words sticking a home to his tongue. "S-Sorry," he whispered, his voice wavered once more. "Just...Just don't worry about it. I-It's nothing for you or anyone else to worry about. Everything is really fine."

[aaronsalive-blog]

I needed to hear that today.

[the-espressoist]

Wait - what's up? Everything okay? If not, I know of something that can make everything better.

[ofrxvxngeandhauntings]

It’s a room in the house right? I think everyone goes into everyone’s room at some point or another. 

[the-espressoist]

I don't think I would. Don't you sort of think everyone deserves their space?

[natural-born-rebel-blog]

Literally.

[the-espressoist]

How you holding up...I'm sorry, I don't think I've met you yet.

[owleyedolivia-archive]

…. Are you okay?

[the-espressoist]

Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little nervous, I guess - what with everything going on.

[autumnclarke]

Yeah, I get that. It’s been insane the past little while.

[the-espressoist]

I don't know much of what happened, but I saw some people pretty upset. I just wish there was someway to help somehow. 

Sort of leaves you feeling kind of helpless.

[autumnclarke]

…You alright there?

[the-espressoist]

I guess so. It's just all this-...Too many bad things happening these days.

[the-espressoist]

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

[poltergeistisms]

Sam & Ender . Face to Face

[poltergeistisms]

The poltergeist’s stance seemed to change, her overall aura calming down. Allowing her shoulders to relax, Samantha sunk down subtly after he spoke; she didn’t know him, no. But part of her wanted to. Just to understand what brought this on, understand what made him believe she was someone else.

Shaking her head gently, the girl decided on taking a step back. Giving him his space, and not to mention, giving herself some space away from the stranger. “…should you?” She managed out, by that time she’d taken a grasp on her energy to the point where the lights were no longer flickering. Instead, they remained at a dull tone — leaving her surroundings anything but bright.

[the-espressoist]

Ender briefly pulled his eyes from her, long, dark lashes buckling beneath the lenses of his thick-framed lenses as he tilted his head up and took in the dullness of the lights. He lifted his brows and looked back upon her, his hazel eyes large and sad. 

He sucked at his lower lip at her question before hesitantly nodding. But as if he thought over his answer, he shrugged his shoulders instead. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to mess your day. I just thought-...I thought I should know you. I thought you were a girl I used to know." It wasn't until he mustered those words that the realization that she wasn't his girl struck. The words wound themselves and struck him a blow to the stomach and he reeled back in the form a small step back. He folded his arms over his chest and unconsciously pressed his fingers into his upper arms. It wasn't until he let the words fall that his loneliness sunk in.

[poltergeistisms]

Sam & Ender . Face to Face

[poltergeistisms]

Remaining still as the boy took notice of her, Samantha’s dark gaze slowly made their way to latch onto his. Though, upon hearing him speak the foreign name — her head cocked to the side subtly. Out of all of the things she was expecting, this simply wasn’t one of them. She didn’t deny the name, instead, replaced his question with another. Her voice came out in a haunting whisper, though meek in its nature. “…who are you?” there it was, she’d managed it out, what she ultimately wanted to know.

It had somewhat come together, in a sense… why he was in her room. He had mistaken her for someone else, yet still at their close proximity, he furthered this misconception of who she was. It had her a little uncomfortable, and though she could have taken his confusion and run with it, she spared his sanity for the most part. Her own curiosity is what had her doing so.

[the-espressoist]

He hated how much he sounded like her; hated how much her mannerisms resembled that of hers, even down to the subtle head tilt. But in all of his life encountering spirits, even ones of past living relatives, they always knew who he was. They knew his name and remembered him. But Ender was no where near or wanting to ever become an expert on the spectral beings of the afterlife, nor did he pretend to be. 

With all of his questions and further ascertations, he was getting no where. He was getting further away from possible answers of whether this spirit was Clove and if she was, why was she trapped within the Murder House? At her question, he kept still and silent - torn on whether to answer. Though with every second his thirst for answers grew, his throat became parched from the questions bubbling up within it. 

His own head tilting subtly to the side, he whispered. "E-Ender," he whispered, his voice cracking as he did. Then, after a moment's silence hung between the two, he stammered, "I-..I don't know you, do I?"

[ofrxvxngeandhauntings]

Not in the past couple days. 

[the-espressoist]

Oh oka-...Wait. You've been in my room?

[jesus--h--christ]

“Spineless," she shook her head, talking to herself as she hugged her knees close to her chest and rested her chin on them. Constance sniffled a little bit as she listened to him ask his questions. "No, I don’t want… anybody, a-and I don’t need anything. Just the kids, I want my kids," her crying had nearly stopped now, only tears of a more calm sadness flowing down her cheeks. Normally, Constance would deny an offer of help at any time at all. But right now, she couldn’t tell left from right and up from down. The blonde nodded and stretched out her hand to meet his, pulling herself up. "Yeah.. that’s… that’s f-fine." 

[the-espressoist]

Ender didn't know what to say. He merely stood there with her, frozen and having more than enough commense sense than to ask her where her children were. The way she spoke, the hurt wrapping her words, it reminding him of the same that trapped his words. But hers were far more fresh than his - he had a bit more time to grieve. Hesitantly, he whispered, "I-..sometimes some people are too good for this place. And we have to let them go so they can be in the better place they deserve. Even if that means leaving us behind. But everything will be okay because it's not permanent.

[aaronsalive-blog]

Animals and spines. When you say it like that…

[the-espressoist]

See? Don't sell yourself short, Dude!

Everyone' been put here for at least one reason and you've got a whole lot of them.

[mason-trevil-deactivated2014122]

I know there’s some taffy and chocolate down in the kitchen.

[the-espressoist]

Taffy? The gross stuff?

[peytonswatching-blog]

"Why leave if you’re okay?  Was it something you saw?  A spirit perhaps?  Something you can’t explain?"  Peyton could tell she’d him uncomfortable and stepped back, giving him sufficient breathing room, silently apologizing for encroaching in on his bubble.  "You must have a reason for wanting to leave."

[the-espressoist]

"A spirit?...Y-..She-..she can't be one of them. She's not a spirit. E-End of story." 

[poltergeistisms]

Sam & Ender . Face to Face

[poltergeistisms]

Still and breathless, Samantha stood in pure silence behind the boy. He was so foreign to her, though there was a certain discomfort that seemed to take hold of her emotions in that moment. Her piercing gaze didn’t let up for even a second, and upon hearing his stuttered question her posture tensed. Her aura was particularly dark, and despite the fact that she was confronting him — she wasn’t feeling particularly friendly, either. With her sinister energy working around the room, the temperature stayed low. The lights began to flicker at a slow pace, before dimming down causing the room to darken just enough to make their surroundings just a little more unsettling than it already was.

Dark curtains of hair cascaded over her features as the poltergeist lowered her head, coming off even more dead than before. Her skin was pale, though it was far from that beautiful porcelain tone it usually had — no, her skin was dead. Lifeless, colorless, nearly gray like the pale ashes of bones. Her eyes were subtly sunken in, creating a dark contrast against her lightless glare. She half thought about speaking up, breaking the quiet between them… but more so, she wanted to see the, what she assumed would be, fear in her intruders eyes when he turned around to see her.

[the-espressoist]

A shiver tiptoed down his spine. His breath, adjusting to the steadily dropping temperature, hitched in his lungs and he gazed down, his breath materializing in front of him. All at once his skin paled; all at once every inch of him felt as though it had been drenched with ice waters or bitten by a chill more suitable for the middle of winter and not an October morning in the middle of a dorm hall. His eyes jumped as the lights flickered, his heart rose into his throat, and the feeling that someone's eyes were upon his back did nothing to settle. 

Ender briefly shut his eyes. Then, after taking several slow breaths to settle his heart, he turned. His heart sunk to the floor. His eyes fell upon the small, fragile, lifeless figure before him. He thought that he'd never care how she looked yet there he stood, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed as he gazed upon her. He hoped with everything in him that she wasn't his Clove. As badly as he needed her, he begged this wasn't her. Nothing would steal this new image of her away from his mind. Her skin was dead, her eyes dark, her head - low. His hand instinctively rose to cup her cheek but dropped just as quickly. This couldn't be her.

Still, as if unable to stop his words, he weakly stammered, "Cl-...Clove?" 

[jesus--h--christ]

A sudden sting of pain struck through her chest and racked through her whole body, an old pain that she dreaded feeling, the feeling of loss. Constance’s makeup ran down her cheeks along with the tears of anger and confusion and sadness as she looked up at him, quieting herself slightly, but still blubbering like a baby without its mother. "I just wanted to do this over," she cried out quietly, one hand clutching her night gown and the other hovering at the side of her face. 

[the-espressoist]

Ender froze in his steps and blinked rapidly at her. He was uncomfortable; he was never good at situations like these. It was different when he was needed to comfort someone he knew, but he'd never seen the woman before. But she was so distraught, he couldn't turn back. "D-Do you need something? Do you need me to call anyone?" he asked before swallowing hard at the lump that had built in his throat. "Here," he whispered, his tone soft and as calm as he could muster as he held his hand out towards her. "Y-You could sit down inside if you want. C-Could I help you?