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[RD] Blood of the Covenant



 
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Claire Thompson

They had arrived to collect the remaining pair without much incident, although watching the awkward, silent juggling act between Mackenzie and Gray as they navigated transporting a limp Jasper would've been comical, under better circumstances. Now, it was just... sad.

Claire kept a close proximity to Sarah, never quite touching, but never more than a hair's breadth from it. It was as if she was making up for the prospect of lost time, knowing just how alone she would be, upon facing her father. Physically, they might all be there, but Elias possesses a remarkable gift of isolation. This standoff was hers, and hers alone.

Getting the group on the plane was hard enough with all the added security measures. Toting an unconscious person leaves a lot of questions unanswered, and Claire still isn't sure how they managed. Thinking on it produces an overdose of anxiety that she is in no mindset to deal with, and it's not as if her analysis would make any difference. It happened, they're here, and that's what's important.

Here.

In a glorified dungeon.

With a glass cage taking up half the room, separating them from Jasper. At least they had the decency to not toss them all in the same room, where they'd be at the mercy of Jasper's surely building aggression.

As predicted, they hadn't been received well. Immediately upon arrival, they were greeted with a squad of no-nonsense vampires in hazmat suits. True, she doesn't know much of this rampant disease, but this seemed excessive. Neither Elias nor Lilith were in sight, and they were deposited unceremoniously into their current situation.

It's been an hour.

Claire stands in the middle of the room, away from everyone, with a stoic expression and her eyes fixed on the door. Beneath the surface, she is reeling. Anger towards her father is prevalent, sure, but she's terrified and trembling. She's never been treated this way, in her own home.

But this isn't your home, Little One... Not anymore.

She grimaces, and behind her, Jasper begins to stir.
April 19, 2019 01:42 pm

Mackenzie

She hadn't taken to anything very well. When the others arrived at the small cottage, nothing had changed. Mackenzie was still a mess, Jasper still unconscious. Gray had made a move to call his driver for help, and she had growled out her denial. Not him. Not now. But she had needed help with Jasper's dead weight, and that begrudgingly comes in the form of Gray.

She couldn't bring herself to look at Claire for a long time. It wasn't until sometime during the flight that she finally cast a glance in the girl's direction, fleeting as it was. It is a strange thing to feel a shame that isn't really one's own. But her shame is in her weakness and inability to take control.

Their reception had been less than that. Medical suits and a quick walk down into the only thing that could be described as a cell. She'd remained tied to Jasper the entire way, but then he was pulled from her grasp. They were separating them, and what transpired earned Mackenzie's restraint.

It wasn't for long.

Deposited in the cold space, she was immediately restless, pacing until Jasper appeared on the other side of the glass, dropped down and left. It truly dawned on her then where they were, and she swears she might lose her mind altogether. This place is a nightmare for him. There is no kindness, nor sense of familial duty.

It is cold, and vacant, except for them.

She is sat against the glass, temple pressed to the cool surface of it as she remains as close as she can possibly get. No one is interacting. No one is close. They are scattered, and she cannot help but watch Claire.

Until, of course, she hears him.

"Jasper," her whisper is almost silent, her attention immediately turning toward him as she shifts to face him. A single, trembling hand touches the glass, and she tries her very best to prepare herself for whichever part of him she might see on the other side. She is terrified. "Jasp, take it slow."
April 19, 2019 02:26 pm

Jasper Thompson

Jasper's head has an entire construction site inside of it, complete with jackhammers and wrecking balls, the whole nine yards. He opens his eyes but the scene around him is something out of his worst memories. Chalking it up as a nightmare, he retreats back into unconsciousness, content to try again when the pounding has stopped.

It never does.

Again, he's brought into the conscious world, aching head and all, and the scene around him has remained. "F-ck," he groans out, blinking a few times with the hope that his surroundings would dissolve into something more pleasant.

It never does.

Quiet rustling can be heard, but not much else. He swears he hears his name uttered but he doesn't bother looking for the culprit. He's too busy trying to piece together why he would be here. And the anger, white and hot, only builds.

Suddenly, with a sickening crack, his head snaps toward the glass, and he finally sees them, all together, on the other side. A feral growl, produced in the deepest parts of his chest, sets him to pacing like a caged animal, stormy hues flashing with madness. "Get me the f-ck out of here." When no one moves to complete this task, a foot careens painfully with the glass.

Then, again.

And again.

...and again.

His fists and voice join the barrage, yelling obscenities and trying his damnedest to break through the glass. He'd see them all dead for this, every one of them.

Suddenly, all sound from the other side is silenced, and his eyes cut violently to the small form of his sister, who, without even turning to look at him, has walked over to the intercom and broken their line of communication with a single button.

In his maddened state, his entire body collides with the glass, over and over and over again.
April 19, 2019 03:04 pm

Gray Taylor

Slate eyes fall upon the glass divide, seeing through to the other side with perfect clarity. What would they have walked into had he not been sedated? With a sigh, he pushes off the wall on which he leans, pacing by Claire with a brief, supportive touch to her shoulder. Mackenzie is useless over here, incapable of pacifying him. Lord knows, no one could. This place is Jasper's worst nightmare, and he’s alone while facing off with them.

Glancing toward the door, Gray lets loose an impatient huff.

“He needs to be knocked out again before he hurts himself.”

He knows better. This feels like a test. Elias is trying to break someone, and his money is on Claire. By proxy, everyone else would, as well. One slip of her temper, one false move, and it isn't just Sarah that is endangered.

It is everyone. Everyone except for Elias' two perfect progeny.

Do they know?

Claire moves, and Jasper’s screams cease. Gray can barely hear the ghost of him hitting the glass. If not for Mackenzie, he might be able to ignore it altogether.

It may not show, but he is beyond concerned on several levels. It is taking most of his energy just to keep from lashing out at the invisible force that has put them here. This is hardly the worst of it, and he knows it. “Honestly. How long are we to be kept down here? If we weren’t infected before, we certainly will be before long.”

A harsh glance is once more cast toward the door before he approaches his own sister, only to receive the cold shoulder.

At least she’s feeling well.

He circles back by Claire, and quietly checks her proverbial pulse, "How are you?"
April 19, 2019 03:51 pm

Claire Thompson

Quiet.

Her finger rests against the button, taking in the silence as a salve to her mind. If she closes her eyes, she can almost believe that she's somewhere else. Back in the kitchen of Gray's apartment, making mimosas with stolen champagne and telling Sarah exactly how she feels...

Now, she's wondering if she'll ever get the chance.

Gray's question ultimately succeeds in pulling her from her own mind, but when she finds his face, she can only blink a few times, processing. How are you? When had that become such a complicated inquiry? Forced back into the present situation, she must now assess her own emotions, carefully as if she was diffusing a bomb.

"Fine," she says slowly, tasting the word on her tongue, "as I can be." Her hand touches his arm, offering a light squeeze of reassurance. The statement is true; she is fine because she can be nothing else.

There's a commotion on the other side of their prison, followed by the unoiled screech of a small door being slid open to allow for two bags to be deposited on the other side. Claire arches a brow, but collects the plunder, a small smile forming, in spite of herself. "Do you require food?" comes the raspy, disembodied question.

"Some tea would be nice, if you don't mind."

The resistance of the door sliding shut answers her.

Turning with the bags in hand, she sinks to her knees and rests back on her ankles, next to her deflated sister-in-law. One blood bag is bit into and offered to her coaxingly. "We have to keep our strength up. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for him."
April 19, 2019 05:43 pm

Mackenzie

She's not listening. Mackenzie may not be able to hear Jasper, but she can certainly see him in all his rage and glory. Knees pulled to her chest, she has resumed her seated position, her head leaned against the glass. It is pathetic in the grand scheme of things, but she takes comfort in the soft vibrations of his blows to the other side. Anything from him right now is better than nothing.

She wouldn't lift her head at the sound of the tiny, angry door. Her eyes don't flicker away from her husband's attempts at what she can only assume to be murder.

Mackenzie barely event reacts to the girl beside her, or the bag now being waved like a treat. She doesn't deserve this. Claire never did anything to merit this situation, or any that came before it.

"When he brought us here, and he saw you for the first time, I think his heart broke over what he'd done. It'd always been broken, but.." taking the bag carefully, she tears her sights away from the painful scene to find Claire. "I'm glad you came to the door, that night."

There are a million things she wants to say to the young girl, and each one is laced with regret. But Mackenzie isn't quite sure what to say, or how much anyone outside of this room knows. Pressing her lips together, she takes a sip from the bag, nose wrinkling. It just isn't quite fresh.

"I'm sorry," she would whisper.

That is all that would be said, for the minute her head touches the glass, those soft vibrations become something hard and strong. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to bring her attention back to Jasper, whose face is inches from her own on the other side. He looks nothing like himself. There is no love there. She can feel her emotions begin to run wild and bubble to the surface, building a pressure behind her eyes.

"Are they just going to leave us down here? You can be honest. It's okay, I promise."
April 19, 2019 06:10 pm

Claire Thompson

Claire is grateful when Mackenzie accepts this proverbial olive branch, settling into her own bag as she makes her confession. The act, in and of itself, is made better through this camaraderie; the girl is not partial to this biological need, and consuming blood in front of Sarah or Gray makes her uncomfortable.

"Can I be honest with you?" She poses the question during a natural lull in Mackenzie's words but doesn't wait for a response, instead, leaning in conspiratorially. A soft smile paints itself across her expression, somehow sad in its delivery. "I'm glad he's heartbroken. It means he cares, when everything else speaks otherwise."

A delicate hand touches the glass, feeling the vibration of his anger as it sets her nerves on edge. All the while, her gaze holds a sorrow that has long since been contended with. "I think about what he did every day. And I do mean every day. And because you know of my brother's nature, you naturally know of mine, and how I must be very careful in removing emotions, little by little, or fall victim to them. By doing this, a veil is lifted and, in looking back on that time in our shared life, I learned something about Jasper." Here, her gaze, which had been trained on the subject of their discussion, glances Mackenzie's way. "He never could depend on himself."

She takes a thoughtful sip. "And how could he? Chaos damns him to uncertainty, and Jasper fears the unknown. It's a rather cursed existence, don't you think, especially for one with such a lovely heart. Or so I hear." She nudges the woman gently, humor lighting her eyes for a single moment.

Then, a sigh, and a far-off look. "It's why his love is such a fickle thing. Not by his choice, but by his nature. For even those he loves fiercely fall just short of his chaos. You are lucky," she adds with a sincere smile, "for you are the only exception." She is his sun. "And what a love to share. I hope you never feel shame for it, as you can't help it anymore than anyone else."

Claire falls quiet as they both retreat into their thoughts, only resurfacing when Mackenzie poses her own question. "No, I can't imagine, or why waste the blood?" She waves the bag, as if for proof, then shrugs. An idea strikes her then, staring into the reflection of the glass, and she gently bops herself on the head for not realizing sooner. "I can check."

Running a vein on her wrist delicately along her sharpest tooth, she then dips a finger into the blood and draws a circle on the glass. Around the edges, she draws her symbols, whispering a single word as she does. "Discretely."

Within the boundaries of her small blood circle, the glass turns hazy, morphing until they see the delicate reflection of an empty room filled with books. Claire shakes her head, and the reflection phases out, revealing yet another empty room. Again, she shakes her head. When the third attempt brings into focus yet another empty room, the girl feels herself getting frustrated.

That is, until she hears voices.

Pressing her finger to her lips, she leans in, listening intently. "It's them," she mouths, nodding with assurance.

"...have to face them."

"No, Lilith, damn it, no."

"Your insufferable pride, Elias..."

"Pride? You think it's my pride? I can't see him like that again, Lilith. I wish I--"

"Well, you must. Because I don't- I don't know what's going to happen, and they're all I have..."

Her hand comes to rest on the glass, effectively breaking the connection and letting silence ensue. Her heart is beating fast, painfully so, and tears are welling in her eyes, but she beats back the sorrow. Only once she's succeeded does she look at Mackenzie, hoping for understanding, then to Jasper, still in his fit of rage. "I think we all have things that, no matter how we try, no matter how much we want to... We simply can't forgive. Not even after hundreds of years."

A single tear slides down her cheek.
April 20, 2019 03:05 pm

Mackenzie

A soft nod is given at Claire's question, permitting such honesty. What are they, if not truthful? Mackenzie had made the decision eons ago to let it out, and she is happy to learn more about this girl. Never in her life did she think she might have the chance to share anything with her, especially after that damnable incident. If she were in her right mind, she might insist the girl stay as far away as possible. On the other hand, she is so very aware of Gray's cold stare upon her small form.

"He does. Very, very much.."

Despite Jasper's demanding nature, she tears her sights away from him to settle upon Claire, giving her as much of her attention as possible. Softly, she would nod along, understanding each and every word as it is dipped in deep sadness and twirled before her like a melancholy treat. She is right, absolutely. Jasper needs someone. He needs a person in his life to help him find balance when he, himself, has none. The saddest smile appears upon her features as she is nudged. "It really is, though," Mackenzie can barely get the words out, and opts to take a drink if only to hide her runaway emotions.

"And I know, yours must be as well."

I hope you never feel shame for it..

Sucking in a breath, Mackenzie glances toward Gray fleetingly before dropping her gaze altogether. How could she not feel some shame for this? She ruined something, selfishly, with her own honesty.

Changing the subject was the worst decision she ever made.

And then, Claire acts. She opens her wrist, drawing upon the glass with her own blood several times over until she gets what she desires. Just as her sister-in-law leans in, Mackenzie does too, and this might be the closest she has ever been to the girl without attempting to kill her.

What they hear changes everything, and at the very same time, nothing at all. Mackenzie knows something now, has witnessed it, and she would never be able to express this to her husband. Even if she could, he would never hear of it. Not after all that he had endured in this very cage.

A shuddering breath escapes her, and Mackenzie presses her forehead to the glass momentarily before reaching forward and wiping the moisture from Claire's cheek. Forward as it is, it is the only way to convey several levels of understanding. "It's going to be okay," she lies.

She lies. To herself, to Claire, even to Jasper. Just this once.

And then the floodgates break, and she forces the rest of the stale blood down her throat. Another harsh bang of foot against glass sounds off by their heads, and Mackenzie looks up at Jasper, livid in her heartbreak. Shaking her head, her sights fall on Claire. Reaching a hand out, she rests it upon the girl's. "That doesn't make you a bad person, and that doesn't make him love you any less."

With a breath, she glances around, sights lingering on Sarah's quiet form. Squinting just slightly, she watches as the girl lifts a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Is she- Sarah."
April 20, 2019 08:56 pm

Sarah Taylor

Sarah went quietly, as she was bid. The instructions had been given before they ever left the apartment building, and she did as she was told if only to give Gray no reason to interact with her. Travel was difficult, and Sarah remained glued to Claire for the duration despite her watchful gaze on the troubled couple. It was a difficult feeling. Here, this girl she'd just exposed herself to. There, the family she has made.

The word torn does not begin to describe it.

Upon arrival, she'd still not uttered a word. Instead, she followed instructions and suit, stepping into their holding tank and claiming a corner to herself where she would sit. And wait. And wait.

Sarah does her best, but there is one thing her brother seems to have forgotten, and that is her fear of enclosed spaces. Rather, those she cannot freely leave. Still, she powers through, reminding herself that she is not alone.

But she is.

Her own brother, her blood, paces about. He is far more concerned about Claire and Jasper than anyone else. Mackenzie is understandably tied up in her watch on Jasper. Jasper goes from unconscious to murderous. And Claire?

Claire goes to Mackenzie.

Swallowing, she refuses to watch the two, refocusing on the floor as she begins to feel every bit of her isolation. It goes on forever, and she becomes restless.

At first, Sarah would readjust herself where she sits, pushing herself up so that she might sit up against the wall. Then, she breathes. Slowly, deliberately, doing her very best not to bring any attention her way, she takes in her air slowly before releasing it in equal counts.

She has to move, but really, she must get out of this room. The tension is far too much, and Sarah would swallow as she reaches a hand up and behind her neck to knead at the muscle.

Sarah.

Hazel hues snap upward, shifting between the two woman as if not understanding what the problem is. Why the tone? Why is she looking at her like this? Her hand stills in it's place as she comes to realize her nervous signals.

A sigh.

"...I'm fine."
April 20, 2019 09:28 pm

Claire Thompson

The girl smiles in the face of the lie, knowing all too well it wasn't just for her comfort, but everyone's. She doesn't voice the fear that seized at her heart tenfold when her mother stated her own uncertainty, but it still constricts the organ every now and then, reminding her.

Moment of bonding over, Claire only has eyes for Sarah as Mackenzie calls attention to her. A light squeeze to the hand that stills rests with hers, and she's on her feet, awkward blood bag in tow. Her clasp on the morbid thing tightens as she approached, whitening her knuckles as her heart leaps painfully. Could she..?

Breathlessly, Claire drops next to her, setting her sustenance to the side, forgotten. A hand hovers over her face, but never quite makes contact. Sarah seems frustrated, angry even, and while Claire can't blame her under the uncertain circumstances, it seems to stem from something more.

"The tea will be here, soon," she tells her softly, attempting a smile but failing miserably. A hand falls to rest on Sarah's as she meets her eye.

"Does your neck hurt? I could..." She gestures vaguely, insinuating her willing intent to rub out any stress she might be feeling in her muscles. Internally, her stomach turns over painfully.
April 21, 2019 09:33 am

Sarah Taylor

She'd thought she wanted attention, only to realize she hadn't at all. Sarah watches as Claire approaches, bag in strained hand, remaining quiet. Even as a small hand hovers before her face, she doesn't say a word. She knows what is happening, where the concern lies, and no amount of assurances will bring comfort when a very real side effect of all of this is certain madness.

A hummed response is given at the mention of tea, though she hasn't the stomach for it. And then a touch, quickly reciprocated as Sarah turns her hand over so that she might clasp Claire's in return.

"It.." Pressing her lips together, she casts a withering glance of discomfort. "I don't like spaces like this." Both she and her brother have their quirks. Gray has his fear of fire, and Sarah, this.

Sarah wonders briefly if her fears would only be construed as illness, considered to be par for the course. "...We hugged. When I saw him, he gave me this great big bear hug." Pausing, she swallows. This isn't something she would normally talk about with Claire, at all. "When I went to New York, he taught me how to throw a punch. My hand has never hurt so much in my life," a quiet laugh escapes her at the afterthought, but quickly softens into nothing.

"We hugged, and then I brought that home. That's why we're locked in here." At some point over the course of this short time, her hand has dropped from behind her neck to her lap, fingers toying with the seam of her jeans restlessly.
April 21, 2019 10:11 am

Claire Thompson

Claire's eyebrows knit together as her forehead wrinkles with concern. She can feel the anxiety and guilt rolling off Sarah in strong, palpable waves, procuring a sigh from the young girl. The fidgeting hand is taken up, and she gives both a squeeze, begging the fleeting gaze to hers. "None of this is your fault, darling girl..." Her whispered undertones are for Sarah's ears alone, though she could keep none from hearing in the suffocating space.

Her thumbs rub a soothing, rhythmic pattern into the soft skin, a reassuring smile pulling at her lips. "The fact is, we were all exposed before Jasper even got sick. They say it's spreading like wildfire, after all." A shrug follows this statement, optimism maybe not being the way to go when thousands of people were dropping like flies all around them.

She swallows, casting a glance at Jasper and wondering if he'd ever get tired out.

Then, her eyes rest on Sarah's face and she suppresses the grimace that pulls at her expression naturally.

I don't know what's going to happen...

Her grip on her counterpart's hands tighten infinitesimally, if only to keep her own from shaking and giving her away.

It's just then that the tea arrives, and Claire busies herself with collecting the well-laid cart they were brought. She barely reacts to the man whispering of her father's arrival any moment, managing a fraction of a nod as her heart steels itself. Outwardly, she puts on a brave face, seeing everyone settled before kneeling beside Sarah once more, tea in hand. She clutches it firmly, almost afraid to let it go.

"You'll tell me, won't you?" It's barely a whisper, and she's not sure her own hearing even picked it up. "If you start to feel... unwell... You'll tell me, right?"

She can't meet her gaze.
April 25, 2019 12:48 pm

Sarah Taylor

Sarah wants to protest, but she can feel a headache coming on. A halo, gently working its way into something that is noticeable. She chalks it up to stress, and simply focuses her attention on the perfect creature beside her and the feel of her thumb rubbing at her hand. As Claire would squeeze her hand, she would return the sentiment, worried gaze naturally drifting toward Jasper.


“I suppose,” would be her absent response.

This disease came with a warning. Had they been smart, they would have prepared while it was localized in Paris. But they weren’t, and it is done. There is no taking it back. Swallowing, Sarah simply nods. “I feel so badly for her..”

And then, a cart arrives. There is no time to expound upon her statement, though it surely requires no explanation. After spending plenty of time with the Thompson’s, she’s clearly taken a likely to the hellish duo. That is neither here not there, now. It takes everything not for Sarah to go about begging to be released from this space.

Once Claire returns, it is obvious to her that something is amiss. Worried as ever, she glances over her partner, watching the way she clutches at the tea. “I’m okay. It’s okay. Just a headache. It’s just this place.”

There is an imaginary wall between them, and Sarah can practically see it rising up. Even the pretty face she looks upon screams to her of concern, despite the stoic expression written across it. Brow knitting together, she shifts where she sits, leaning toward Claire in an attempt to keep their private conversation, private. “What’d they say to-“

There is no finishing the statement, for the door would again begin to rattle with movement and Sarah’s attention turns to it quickly. She could hear a pin drop in this moment. No more pacing from her brother, no more needless breath from the demure woman across the room. For just a second, she swears even Jasper stills, as if he too can sense it.

“Claire?”

Her name is barely a whisper.
April 25, 2019 01:12 pm

Claire Thompson

Sarah shrugs off her concern, and Claire can only nod softly in response. It's clear she doesn't quite believe her, and that's to say nothing ill of the girl herself, but the rampant disease that threatens all of them. It seems to almost have taken on a mind of its own, and self-preservation seems paramount to its ability to spread. That, and Sarah is already antsy about being locked away; she'd have a natural aversion to what would ultimately seal that fate.

Still, disease be damned, and she leans into the proximity for the sake of her own comfort. Before Sarah even completes the sentence, Claire is opening her mouth to respond, thankful for the reprieve offered by something - anything - else.

But that, too, is ripped from them.

Claire freezes, demeanor turning stony even as she works to subtly and frantically straighten herself. A withering glare is cast to Sarah, as if to say This is what he said to me, before she pushes herself up and around in one fluid motion. Her chin raises defiantly even as her heart beats wildly into the sides of its steel cage.

"Father," comes the cold greeting, and internally, she marvels at her level tone. "You know of my employer, Gray, and this is his sister, Sarah." She waves to each one in turn before her hand retreats back to the other, carefully clasped to invoke the illusion of calm. No need to introduce Mackenzie, she reminds herself.

He says nothing, barely even sparing them each a curt nod as he keeps his gaze carefully trained on his daughter and no one else.

Behind her, Jasper has honed in on him, taking up his caged animal's pacing and snarling threats that would never reach the ears they are intended for.

Claire drives the conversation, already feeling herself losing steam. "Frankly, Father, I am appalled. I brought us here, seeking refuge, and yet, I never would've suggested it had I known imprisonment is what awaited us."

There is no knife is existence sharp enough to cut this tension.

Finally, it's as if the entire structure breathes with Elias. "You're right," he utters, somehow still regal in his admittance of wrong-doing, "and I hope you'll forgive the dire measures required when disease threatens my household. Perhaps better communication is necessary, and I will take it into consideration, should something of this magnitude require it of me."

Still glowering half-heartedly, Claire offers a single nod of acknowledgment.

"As we speak," he continues, carefully stoic, "rooms are being prepared for all of you. But I must ask one more indelicacy, not just for the sake of my household, but for all of us, and that is a routine analysis of all your health statuses, as they stand currently."
April 25, 2019 02:06 pm

Gray Taylor

“It is more than understandable.”

Gray speaks up from where he stands, stilled from his pacing. It is hard to place where his true loyalties lie, as he seems awkwardly out of the way and apart from all others. As if he cannot quite bring himself to make a choice, simply because it may just bring someone harm.

He’s never really spoken to Elias. Instead, he just stole his daughter.

Perhaps that further places him out of the way.

There is a quick glance around the room as Gray surveys those apart from Jasper. Claire looks healthy. Mackenzie, while upset, seems healthy. Sarah, though. His gaze lingers on her, judgmental and calculating. She is quiet, fidgeting and anxious. He knows her fears, and he understands they must be far more heightened at a time like this, but he also knows better.

Her eyes are glossy. She keeps stretching her neck.

Surely, she is just stressed, and tired.

“And we are more than happy to submit to whatever you need from us.”

Slate hues turning to Elias, he can feel Sarah’s wrathful glare turn on him. In truth, he is avoiding it. Gray has suspected his sister to be ill for a brief time, and this is his way of ensuring she is safe. Even if she hates it.

“Thank you for taking us in, Mr. Thompson.”

That said, Gray moves, placing himself within eyesight of Claire as if silently trying to support her in a difficult time. The tension is suffocating, and he worries she may just forget to breathe.
April 25, 2019 03:50 pm
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