[PRP] Where Lights Won't Chase Us (Bellamorte)

[medigel]

Three days ago, he remembered in the midst of separating scrap on his night job that he had missed not one, but two important dates: the anniversary of when they had begun to date, and the anniversary of when they had first professed their love which, while corny, had turned the witch's days of separation and the zombie's revelation to his new condition into sidenotes against that happiness. Technically it was also a one year anniversary of living with Insanity, but he honestly didn't know if what he was doing at this point was considered a win. He adapted, yes, but . . . It wasn't the same.

Regardless, the holiday was in full swing whether he liked it or not, and he had been rather neglectful as a boilfriend lately; Christmastival was a perfect excuse to surprise her with a gift! Thus did Mort make time in his schedule to get to the maul, which was also host to the JOYful spirit.

Snow. Jack damn.

He roved for what felt like several hours, trying to find the right gift for her that was within his wallet's reach. The part time job at the junkyard wasn't as fulfilling monetarily as he liked, but he couldn't afford to get a real job until he graduated . . . Which he didn't want to think about because that was also a depressing topic. Wow he needed to stop being down about this. Just buy something, damn it! On the circuit back, Mort happened across a minipet store and, upon finding a certain monstrocity he was sure she'd love, bought it in an instant and called it a day.

He'd definitely win her back with another cat. Definitely.

Mort made the extra effort to get back in time to greet her for the evening and was more than a little disappointed when the witch didn't bounce in past dinner. Then he became curious when she didn't arrive before midnight. As his new purchase began to familiarize itself with her room, he fired off a few texts that he hoped didn't come across as needy, but when it was apparent that she wasn't going to be coming in, he headed back to his room for the night.

Intermittently over the next day he pinged her phone and knocked, growing concerned little by little. Normally Belladonna was better about letting him know where she was, and she always had her phone handy; it was disconcerting to go a whole day without news. And then a whole day became two.

Stop freaking out, Mort chided himself, but he might as well have told the whispers to be quiet. Maybe a Hunter--no, no, she wouldn't do that again to him after last time, would she? Maybe he had missed some sort of note she had left him? It was entirely possible given how distracted he was lately . . . Thus did he let himself into the witch's room to start checking around for a sign. It was something to do at least, and the minipet was happy to get a walk about in what was soon going to be its new home.
 

[AyeAvast]

Hecate, getting back was harder than she anticipated, but Belladonna was determined. She had to get back right now, or else she risked Mort arriving home from work before her and knowing about her little adventure. Mostly it was because she had failed, for she had fully intended to tell him everything when she returned home with something to help his condition. The original plan had to be lay everything she'd done bare, to tell him about her hours and hours spent studying in secret and the trials she'd faced just to help him get better. But all she had returned with was a broken handle and an inkling it could become something better.
That was a thread she was very interested in following, surprised the illusion in the tower had said something at all, let alone anything worthwhile about her find. There was nothing she could do about it now, but it was certainly something filed away for a later time.

What mattered now was getting back to her dorm. Beaten up with a broken shield meant she had to be careful, not that she expected any attacks simply on her way to her dorm, but it left her feeling vulnerable, weak, an easy target. Thankfully there were no surprise attacks, the witch able to slip into the Reaper dorms and hurry up the stairs.
Jackdamn it not more stairs... Half way up the first flight she stops and sits down gingerly, having to take a moment to hold her temples as she prepares herself for three more flights up. This was poor planning on her part, but she draws in a breath and lets the idea that anyone could see her just sitting here all beaten up and bloody be the thing that moves her along. Undoubtedly she looks a sight with her hair half tumbled down from the two buns she'd started with and her clothes torn and covered in her own blood, but no one has to see this if she hurries. It takes longer than normal, but finally, finally she reaches the top landing and trips her way down the hall.

The wound on her stomach has begun to bleed again, not enough to cause concern for it will soon mend with a pumpkin pill and the witch knows she has one of those stashed away in her room for just such an occasion. A hand is pressed against it and she doubles over slightly, sighing as her free hand falls on her doorknob. She expects the door to unlock at her touch, as she has magicked it do, but the door opens without unlocking, having been unlocked previously. Thinking this curious, Belladonna sets the thought aside as she opens the door and finds not only her room precisely how she left it, but with Mort inside.
Any pretense of calm, any mask she has trained herself to wear is gone, plain surprise and shock and guilt clear on her features.
"M-Mort!"  

[medigel]

The minipet heard it first, just a split second before he did: a soft click as the doorknob turned. As it mrrowed curiously, Mort whipped around and was wide-eyed by the time the witch came into full view.

He was very sure that, had he been in possession of a heart, it would have died and rotted instantly.

She was covered in blood. Blood. He wasn't aware of any other detail, not that she was disheveled, not that she was carrying something, only that there was dried blood on her person and that it was hers. A strangled noise left him that was supposed to be the witch's name as he moved forward, shock turning into concern as he took her wrists and tugged her in. He should--He should take her to the infirmary, he should let Nurse Cricket see. But that would mean letting her go again, and he wasn't sure he could do that right now.

He could fix it. He said he could fix the whispers, sure, but this he could most certainly fix. He had to.

Stroking back some hair from her face, Mort led her over to the bed and motioned for her to sit down. "J-Jack," he managed to get out as he surveyed her a second time. "What . . . Bells, what happened?"
 

[AyeAvast]

Batshit, batshit, batshit.
Its the look on his face, those green eyes she'd once lost the color of that look so stricken and wide that gets her. The way he looks totally betrayed and worried destroys whatever semblance of well being she has left, shattered completely. Today has been a disaster, her attempts at helping a farce and now she has to explain all of that to him when he looks like this.
If it were at all possible for her to just lay down and be done for a few days, the witch would. Instead she has to fight the nausea that rises sudden and makes her face go pale when he touches her. There is no fight in her as she follows his lead, her wrists feeling too small in his grasp when she knows should he tire of her silliness on days like this that he could destroy her so easily.
"I-I... I am fine--" But that's not what he asked.

Habit reminds her to smile, to put on a brave face. That is what she's done for so long, that's what she's used to cope with things and make them better and he looks so worried over her that she needs to do something. Yet all the witch finds herself doing is looking up at Mort with wide, glassy eyes and her mouth parted softly, guilt streaked across her face in wide swatches.
"I went... I went to a tower... It was... Ah..." Goddess alive everything hurts, even when she sits down and finds herself humming softly when he touches her face.
"It was because... I was looking for something... Like that adventure you and Alexander and I went on... At the end were objects... I was looking for something like that."
Her prize in still clutched in one hand, the one pressing over her stomach but it is not worth mentioning.

"You... Weren't supposed to be back so soon." Its the closest she can come to confessing that she had planned all this in secret and had intended to keep it that way until she was successful enough to fix him.  

[medigel]

He was almost thankful Belladonna was speaking slowly; it made things easier to process as he focused on cleaning her up. First he needed to check for open wounds . . . "Will double check anyway," Mort told her, gently pressing his hand around for any signs of bruising or, Jack forbid, actual cuts, and upon finding them, he paused and focused his Fear to help the healing process along.

He was quiet for a time in order to listen, his face set mostly in a concentrated frown but showing slight deviations: at the mention of a tower and adventure, his brow furrowed; at the mention of artifacts, his brow conversely raised; but it was the last comment that made him stop what he was doing.

"Wasn't s-s'posed to?" Mort repeated with consternation, hurt by the insinuation but trying to keep calm. "Bells, you were gone three days. Was getting worried, had t'keep checking: messages, room, almost called family . . ." His brows knitted with concern and more than a hint of accusation. "Why didn't you tell me?"
 

[AyeAvast]

No argue came when he began to poke around her, the witch even offering up the parts of her she can that she knows are wounded. Palms turn up to him in a quiet form of supplication as she winces with the effort of releasing her stomach and the broken handle that falls to her lap. She flinches again to feel the sparks along her skin, but says nothing and after getting used to them, goes still. With her head tilted down toward her lap, she cannot see his face or his reactions, which feels easier to handle. Watching any emotion march across his face will make her cry when she feels so close to it already.
Even though she has tried very hard not to look at him, when he questions her words, Belladonna cannot help herself. Pink eyes slide up to his, the hurt in his gaze enough to make her cry if she had not been saved by what he says next.

"Three days?" That's not right, that's not right at all. Eyebrows pull down as she turns to him, softening a bit with his honest worry for her. Its terrible to feel this way, but to know he's honestly fretted over her...
"No, n-no... No I was only gone... A few hours?" But perhaps that isn't as right as she thinks. Not only had she fallen asleep in the tower, time almost always operates differently in places like that.
"No I... It was supposed to be... Just a few hours... Not... Three days?" Good Hecate, what has she done.

Her hands come up now to grasp at his, to find a life line as best she can.
"I did not tell you because... I wanted it to be a surprise... It was... Supposed to be different and... And..." But what good will explaining do? Trust is already in question, something the witch knows is irreparable if fully broken. Maybe the illusion of her mother was right... Maybe she doesn't at all deserve her zombie.  

[medigel]

Her fumbling was honest as far as he could tell (when did he ever start questioning it?), which had him softening his expression. But it didn't ease the pain Mort felt that she had felt a need to keep this from him, this of all things. "Bells, could've been hurt," he argued nevertheless, his hands holding hers tight. "C-Could've been lost somewhere n' not know how t'find you, or Hunters, something."

He had honest to Jack never considered that the witch would ever not be present in his life, and it should have scared him that he was relying on her so much. Instead, he focused on the fact that she was back and okay, for the most part, and that he wasn't about to ever let go of her again. It ached still that she hadn't trusted him to know, that she hadn't thought to bring him along just to be sure everything went okay--but it paled in comparison to the fact that he had been wayward and now no longer was.

Without warning Mort tugged her into a tight hug and settled his head over her shoulder, feeling a little melodramatic over all of this but unable to care about how he might look. "Was scared," he admitted in a strained voice. "Was s-scared you were mad again, or had enough've everything . . ." To him it was still a miracle that the witch had stuck around for a month, much less a year with this condition, and while the whispers could harry him all he wanted, he did his best to try and hide that burden from her despite it being literally plain on his face.

In his worst nightmares, the witch walked out without a word, just like she had when they had fought about him being an Initiate; unlike that fight, however, she could never be found again.

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

"I did n-not think... It did not seem as though--" But she doesn't finish, there is no need to. Already she has laid out for him how foolish she's been and continues to be, so the witch simply drops her gaze.
What has meant to be help is now a disaster, worse than a failure because she had turned her already afflicted boilfriend into worse: one that doubts her.
The hands that hold hers tight are the only thing she's worked for, but its not a gift to be held like this. This moment was not supposed to be laced with this sadness, this worry and regret. Jackdamn, she's a fool.

"I am sorry." The witch mumbles as she's pulled into a hug, fingers hesitant at first to cling to something that can never rightfully be her's when she lies so much. But she does not want to live without him, even if she doesn't deserve him.
If he is being melodramatic, she is beyond that as she sits there and listens to his words, honestly doubting herself for a few moments. She's already been more honest than she means to, so maybe she should just... Come clean?
"I have had enough..."

The words are begun solemnly, but she quickly pulls back to slide a hand up to touch his cheek gently.
"But not of you, never of you, love." Somehow, perhaps because she loves him so much, Belladonna finds a smile within herself to bring out. It is small, and scared, but still just for him.
"It has been over a year and I have done nothing for you... I... Appalled at myself, I... I tried to find something." The smile fades from her face, replaced with upturned eyebrows and more tears that threatened to spill over.

"And I was dreadfully wrong... I am... Nothing." Not helpful, not worthy of this sweet man, not even strong enough to best herself, even a false, illusion of herself.  

[medigel]

She had struck daggers into his core cold as ice with those four words, I have had enough. No pause could have been more ill-timed, for already he had begun to pale in sheer terror, a meek, selfish plea struggling to escape--

--that quickly was sealed back up at the touch of her hand. If it wasn't of him, though, then what had she had enough of? The fact that there didn't seem to be an easy cure in front of them like those other students had stumbled across? He couldn't blame her of course, but they also couldn't both be fed up; that meant giving up, and if they did he didn't know how much longer he would be able to stand it . . . But her words continued to sting him, albeit in a different but equally horrific manner, and Mort found himself shaking his head slightly just before he cradled hers between his hands.

"You-are-everything," he corrected with an undercurrent of urgency in his tone, frightened that Belladonna could think otherwise. "Without you, would've gone crazy long ago. Know you try, know y'do, even . . . even if doesn't work out. M'angry you went off like that, b-but--but understand why y'did." Even if he was still smarting from the knowledge that she didn't want him to know about it, even if he thought it was crazy of her to go alone . . . she had done it for him. And Jack damn it, that was not nothing.

Sighing shakily, Mort leaned forward and kissed her softly. "D-Don't ever scare like that again, Bells. Please."

AyeAvast

 

[AyeAvast]

Perhaps she has told him that particular phrasing just because she knows what it will sound like initially, but then again she finds herself feeling dreadful over the wording and winces to see him look so stricken. The hand on his face turns her thumb to brush his cheek gently, a gesture she hopes will encourage him to find her being honest.
What was surprising was to find him first shaking his head, then move to take her own. The witch dropped her hands to his chest, not wanting to mimic his motions quite so exactly when he seemed intent on turning this moment around. Feeling so low, it was strange to hear him say such sweet things about her. Especially when it came in relation to himself.
Belladonna stared at him for a moment, blinking back tears as she let his words settle in her heart. How had it come to this that she could so easily disregard all the good she'd done just because she failed? When had she begun to think like that?

"You're... Angry with me?" The words are soft, a whisper as she looks up at him, breaking slowly. That isn't fair... She has worked so hard and made a mistake, miscalculated and had not realized what she was getting herself into. It was an honest mistake and... He was angry?
"I-I did not mean to-- I had only meant to help-- Mort I-I--" No, this wasn't what she wanted...
But she stops talking when he kisses her, the action sending a small start to her system that has her rousing a little.
"I had not intended to scare you! I... I left you a note!" But where was the note? Had he only just now come to her room? "Did you... Honestly think I would just... Leave you like that?" How could he think that of her? After everything she had been through, after she'd always run back to him? That stung, but she could not help but realize how that was what she half expected for him.

Letting her frustrations with the day turn toward him was a bad idea, a very, very bad one but the witch let it happen anyways. The worried tilt of her mouth slid down and she cast her eyes to the side and down, so she would not see what emotions she inflicted.
"Did you even look for me?" A finger pointed at the note placed on her desk with his name written in large letters so he would see.
Or had he just assumed she was that flighty as to just leave school altogether? As though she had the luxury of such when she had something so important here to take care of... And perhaps that was why she was suddenly so upset with him, not that he doubted her, but that he doubted her feelings for him.  

[medigel]

He instantly regretted his words and wished he could rewind time and stop himself from even talking; how amazing that would have been if that had been granted to him instead of the useless animation energy. Mort swallowed and noticed his throat was dry, his stitches itching with each movement and yet unable to scratch any of them without fear of revealing himself. Although to be frank, the panic was obvious on his person, even if it was contained to wide eyes and a whimpering tone for now.

But she had--she'd left him a note? Bewildered, he turns his head and followed where her finger pointed to the letter, able to read his name even from a distance. He had . . . how had he missed that? He swore that hadn't been there before, but that meant doubting Belladonna even more, and he didn't have room left in his heart for doubt when it was so consumed by guilt.

He did, however, have just enough room to make a niche for some frustrations of his own.

"Yes looked for you," Mort replied emphatically as he faced her once more, his expression growing more concerned when she wouldn't look at him. "Sent messages on phone like said already, h-had no idea where you were, did check your room, n' just . . ." He gave in to the urge and scratched his neck, though even that relief wasn't enough to alleviate the ache going on inside. "Was afraid something'd happened, s-something with Hunters."

He could not, would not answer her other question.

Swallowing hard, he took the witch's hands into his own again. "M'angry 'cause wasn't there with you," he added a little softer. "Couldn't help, was in dark . . . Staying in same room t'gether so long, yours or mine, i-it . . . It was wrong not having you there, Bells." At least he could admit that and only feel a modicum of absolute clinginess. Remembering that breathing did have a purpose, Mort took a calming breath and exhaled slowly. "Can y'talk 'bout what happened out there? Or should you sleep?" He didn't deny that she had come in looking awful, but he hadn't been the King of Curiosity for just any reason.
 

[AyeAvast]

All of Mort's worry over the simple action of scratching his neck went unnoticed by the witch, for why should she find abnormality in an action he enacted nearly constantly with her? It was a motion she associated with something she'd done wrong, something she'd said poorly, some idea or want she'd had that he was unwilling to act upon. Even if he'd said he looked for her and sent her messages on her phone and checked her room, he still trailed off and looked away and touched his neck. Something the witch was not allowed to touch because of past transgressions not even of her own doing.
It was too much.
Something hard broke inside her and she turned a sharp frown up at him.
"Why is it always Hunters? There are far bigger threats out there but you always worry about Hunters! Why? Is it because I failed last time I fought one?" How could he doubt her like that?

As for his words about looking for her, Belladonna's frown softened when she looked at him for more than a second and she dropped it. A hand shuffled along her shorts until she found her pocket and disappeared only to reappear with her eyephone in hand.
"It died... Probably when I stepped through the portal... I am sorry." Always sorry, always wrong, always.
She did not miss that he skipped her question about leaving, his silence answer enough as it smothered the hope she'd found in the Tower. Silence meant yet, silence meant doubt. Worse than his disappointment in her was his doubt of her.
"I... I can do things on my own!" She finally said after turning her gaze back down to her hands which he had picked up, for once his chill was numbed against her skin as the blood was drained from her extremities and face. This was torture and she was falling in on herself.
"Perhaps I cannot build machines or rule a kingdom o-or do well in the House Cup but... But I can accomplish something!" It was meant as a roar of defiance and came out more like a desperate ghoul trying to convince herself that she had done something for her sake and not her lover's. For the past year she had done nothing if it was not for Mort, so even her usually good ability to lie was not enough to cover this.

"I am not tired." Lying.
"I can speak of what happened."
Even if it was failure.
"Do you want to hear it?"  

[medigel]

"Is it because I failed last time I fought one?"

Maybe. Yes. But even if she hadn't, they were a threat. Mort felt frustration p***k him again that she was nitpicking him about what he was worrying about instead of the fact that he was worrying at all. Was it wrong to? The witch was one of the most capable fighters he knew, so seeing anything of hers falter was naturally concerning to him . . .

And then Belladonna continued, and his expression turned to consternation and confusion, wincing when her voice grew louder. What . . . ? Why was she bringing those up? He didn't remember ever bragging about any of those things . . . His brows rose and fell by degrees as he tried to calculate the best response, but all he had was a messy pile of emotions refusing to be quantified and the feeling that he was missing something. "'Course you can?" he agreed, his puzzlement leaking into his tone. "Know you can. Was queen twice n' is great fighter . . ."

Thinking twice about the tale, he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Maybe is best if sleep first anyway. Or, er, shower. Or both."
 

[AyeAvast]

If her time in the Tower had not been bad enough with the illusion of her mother laying out all the things that had gone wrong, it is all the worse to have them brought up again but harsher. These failings were not from an illusion that plucked the worries carelessly from the witch's own mind, these were all things that had actually happened and she had done poorly with. Everything was from Mort, who meant the world and more to her and he was doubting her.
The streaks in his hair are easily ignored when she cannot breath, that glint of one wrongly colored eye hardly a bother when she has strained herself for his sake and found herself still lacking. She is worn thin and feels as though each word he says is another handful of herself out from her core so that by the end of this conversation he will leave Belladonna hollowed out and alone.
His doubt that increases to the point of being vocalized further breaks the brittle thing in her chest and she honestly sneers at him.
"I was given my crown by you out of sentimentality and the other because I am popular." Had been popular, given her predilection to avoid society as of late. "I was a good fighter... I have lost most sorely to a small human girl who could hardly lift her own weapon. I am no longer a great fighter."

The squeeze is not reassuring, it is condescending.
"Why? Because I am frustrating you? Do I smell?" The witch slips her cold hands from his and slides away, off the bed and to the middle of the floor. In haste her boots are removed and thrown aside so that they crash noisily against her desk chair and a hand shoved up into one bun so that she can rip it down in a cascade of angry red curls.  

[medigel]

Definitely missed something.

Shocked into silence, he was all but cowed by the witch's sudden condescension, the only movement being his eyes that followed her until she was out of his field of vision. "S-Senti--?" He remembered how to move and turned to face her, quickly becoming indignant at the accusations. "Bells, got both crowns because deserved them. Losing one fight doesn't make you bad. N'last I checked, only one who smells is me."

He pushed his glasses up and frowned. "Is frustrating me 'cause don't understand where this is coming from. Did I say something wrong? Why're you mad at me?"