curse-of-frell

[curse-of-frell]

((Hey all! Hope you're having a good weekend :D

Thank you for your patience with replies ♥

This blog is going to be on hiatus at least until August!

I purchased a house and it's a wreck, so I am presently working full time, taking care of two high-energy dogs on my own, and also renovating a house to make it liveable to be able to move out of my iffy family home ASAP

If you want me on disco let me know~ But in general I am very busy and tired for at least another month or so ♥

[curse-of-frell]

"How about we watch a movie? One of the uh--old one's you like?" (Bob to Ella)

Ella's laughter was quiet in the soft darkness of the tower at night, leaning against the kitchen counter in the fluffy robe she was almost certain Bucky must have gotten from some kind of PR event. She'd never expected to visit her brother while he was in active service, much less expected to appear at the Tower they had both obsessed over as children. Not that Elliot seemed to be doing much other than flirting with everything with a driving license.

"Sure, we can. Don't worry, I promise they're not as boring as people seem to think - a lot of people forget that, before all the fancy effects, films had to put actual effort into the story being interesting." She pulled out her phone to check what she could stream. "I know, how about the original Call of the Wild?"

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He couldn't help the softly triumphant smile when she lay on the bed. He disliked taking people's comfort from them and was more than familiar with sharing a bed for any matter of reasons - the embrace of romance, the horrors of war, the familial security of his sister. Yes, sharing a bed meant little to a man who had never really had a room to call his own when the world was so intent on him moving on.

"The intention is all that really matters, I think. If someone accidentally hurts someone, then... It just ain't the same as looking for someone to harm." Elliot assured her quietly, his expression drawn into concern as he let his own eyes drift up to the ceiling. He shifted his weight so he could cross his arms underneath his head. "Sometimes... Things happen. And, even with the best of intentions, those things can go wrong... Life is full of bullshit. All you can control, in the end, is your own thoughts-" A quiet bark of laughter. "Sometimes."

A hum-turned-purr started in his throat as his curse buzzed through him in the way that always felt so good. "I'll give myself more credit." He confirmed softly. "Yeah, I got a load of nonsense and stories and I'm great at a party. We should-" He yawned, letting his eyes fall shut. "-Go out tomorrow, if you wanna hang out properly." Within a few moments, his breathing had evened out as the alcohol and the presence of another body in the bed settled his system and the exhaustion of constant travel took over. He didn't move much in his sleep, another habit from sharing, but his breathing remained deep and even as mundane dreams enveloped his mind.

Alura would give a small nod in agreement. From an outsiders point of view she certainly would seem lonely and although very touch deprived, she could agree it was better this way. She never thought about how alone she was or rather, she chose to avoid thinking about it. It was comforting to know she wasn’t the only one who felt like it was better to be in your own.

She would watch as her lay down on the bed and then would follow him, plopping down- her feet still handing off the bed and her hair sprawling out in almost perfect curls around her. She radiated warmth if he happened to get close enough to feel it. She would look up at the ceiling as she thought of his question. She wasn’t an axe murderer and she didn’t go around killing people for the hell of it- but she was still a murderer right? Even if by accident? “I don’t know.” She would then take a deep breath before speaking again. “I don’t hurt people on purpose.” Her responses have been vague so far but this time it was more cryptic than before.

She would then turn her head to look up at him and give a small smile. “You don’t seem dull. Give yourself more credit.” She would then shake her head as if to dismiss his question. “You can sleep as long as you like. I have the room for a few days. I won’t wake you.” Alura would then slowly sit up- she looked tired in her movements and she was, but she had no intention of sleeping until he was gone. You could never be too careful. Plus, it was too dark for her to feel comfortable enough to pass out. She was often locked in a dark closet when she was a child- that fear was instilled in her.

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⁵⁾ plates of fresh-cut fruit - to Elliot

Elliot's hand went out to pick up a slice of apple that had been set near him before even clocking that he should probably be thanking Shiloh. "Uh-" The sound was muffled by the quick chewing of the fruit before he swallowed and gave her a slightly puzzled smile. "Thanks, like, do I look like I'm nutrient deficient?" He teased in his typical manner as his head tilted to the side. "I can do the washing up if you've made stuff. Sit down for a bit, you don't need to keep busy."

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"Oh." Elliot had never considered that having power wouldn't feel good; even though he knew the actual impact on the world definitely varied, he always assumed power felt... Good. His eyebrows shot up at the admission and he quickly nodded. "Yeah, mate. Family is bullshit. Though, like, being an adult is all about being able to make the choices that can make up for crap like that- found family..? I don't know." Elliot laughed a tad awkwardly.

Bob took a deep breath. "Not for me. But also, I just mean in general." He paused, wondering if he should share this, but pressed on. It wasn't necessarily super deep, but he was in an oversharing mood. "I mean like what it was have to good loving father. Those sorts of things." It was what he had really been thinking about in that circumstance.

[curse-of-frell]

you’re  going  to  leave  a  mark -

(from rcxylancelct-mcrtcn to Elliot)

@rcxylancelct-mcrtcn

"Ain't that kind of the point?" Elliot pointed out with a quiet huff as he sat back and looked up at her, his hands settled comfortably on her hips as he relaxed against the couch. There was no sense of haste since it wasn't like anyone was going to walk in on them, not that Elliot would have cared either way. It was just nice to have some uncomplicated fun and make out with someone who made his heart pound like a drum behind his ribs. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it. I'm a good boy." He winked.

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Elliot's face probably gave away just how surprised he was that she went along with it... Not that he had thought Maria would put her foot down and stop him - not when it had been James' suggestion in the first place - but he'd thought... She would fight more. He bit his lip as his eyes averted to the window, his own conviction struggling for a few moments before he steeled himself.

He couldn't back down now. This would be better for everyone.

"Somewhere near that forest we used to go to when we were younger- uh... I can't remember what it's called. We used to have picnics there, and I think there was a sand pit near the car park or something?" He could have driven them there, if he could drive, but he'd never been great at paying attention to the names of places as excitement consumed his attention.

"Or the seaside? But I think she would prefer the forest... We both feel more at home in the forest." And Elliot knew why even if he and Ella never really discussed it. Now they never would.

"I-I'll go pack- Can we stop at M&S on the way and get food to take with us? Please?"

Maria looked between Elliot and James and she felt something shift. It seemed to dawn on her all at once that Elliot was growing up, he'd always been a bit of a tearaway but she'd always been able to protect him, to put her foot down just enough.

Now though, sat here, she realised she wasn't going to be able to protect him forever. He was growing up and there were going to be things he wasn't going to tell her, more than there already were. Big things. Maybe in some ways she was the problem too. Maybe she'd caused this by trying too hard, by wanting to protect them, to love them, to spoil them. To make up for everything they'd been through when they were young.

Maybe she wasn't a good mother, never had been. Maybe them coming to her had been bad for them. After all, Ella was currently upstairs probably thinking Maria didn't care about her as much and Elliot was here begging to leave after getting in trouble.

"Okay." Maria nodded and took a breath, trying to steel herself and ignore the feelings battling inside her. "Okay, I think that might be a good idea. We could go to a cottage for a couple of days. I'm sure I can rent one short notice. Only if Ella wants to though. Any location suggestions?" She asked.

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“Oh, that? Yeah it's just... it's just a little blood..." for Elliot

Elliot scoffed. "A little? Mate, I've seen a little blood, and I know when someone is bleeding and trying to play it down. You know, like, if you don't stop bleeding, that's kind of an emergency?" Despite the seriousness of his words, his tone couldn't help but be the same teasing as usual. "Come on, let me have a look. I got all that medical training shit when I was serving." He wiggled his fingers. "I got warm hands."

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Ella opened her mouth instantly but bit back the words since she could tell his intention wasn't for her to get defensive. "I know... I know that's usually the way. But he... I think everything that has happened is my fault so, the state he's in now, I want to try and fix?" She tried to explain, aware it sounded like a limp excuse- Probably more like she was just a nosy cow, if she was honest.

"You're always welcome to come to the gallery, or to any of the workshops hosted there - free, of course." She noted gently, aware this must go deeper than she knew. "What kind of thing did you use to do? Write or draw or just play? Play is its own form of art, no matter what anyone says."

It sounded rough, but saying something like that out loud felt insensitive. So Marc hummed, nodded. Crossed arms over his chest and leaned where he currently sat at his very small dining table. "I've had people like that in life. Not worth the heartache if they don't wanna change." He hoped it came off as gentle as he meant it. It wasn't like he wanted to diss this mystery person of hers he had no idea about. That's the last thing he wanted to do. "I've got -- hobbies. I go to the gym, sometimes. Go out for a drink." He huffed a little, rolled his eyes. Looked down at the table while he thought. ". . . I used to like creative shit. Imaginative stuff, real whimsical and all that. Guess I just -- lost it." Lost it when he lost Randall. Lost a lot when he lost his brother, really.

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[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair from Azriel or Alura to Ella ☺️

Ella closed her eyes to let herself focus on the way Azriel was working through each strand of hair, pleased to have the thick brown waves off her shoulders since the heat seemed to be so eager to linger in the air. "Thank you..." A moment of silence passed. "My brother learned to do this for me when I was younger, and our adoptive sisters too." She noted, unable to quite keep the sorrow out of her voice. "Did you learn for a sibling?"

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Elliot didn't really want the kind of reassurance that the doctor seemed so willing to give; it didn't feel real to him in a world that was so actively pushing this narrative that he was losing his mind. Had lost his mind. It just didn't make sense, he could remember always obeying, always being good - that was what had made him such a good soldier, wasn't it?

"D-don't follow any of the rules we do. So, you see why no one believes me, even though it's true. It ain't my fault-" He almost had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from speaking, aware he would just spiral into rambling.

"The Fae like caging humans. They always do in the stories - steal people's names and their souls and their will or... Whatever."

His eyes briefly lifted to look at Arthur, though he didn't trust his own ability to tell if the older man was judging him or not for the words that slipped so readily from his lips.

"But... Yeah, I obey." He muttered, huffing at the comment on wanting to leave before it seemed to spark some interest.

He sat up a little straighter, holding Arthur's gaze now as he tipped his head slightly to the side. "I just always have - did you get my history? Like, all the foster homes and shit like that? There's all this stuff about me being well-behaved for adults, but really naughty when I'm just with other kids. It's because of this curse, right?! I had to obey the kids too. A-and- And who wouldn't want to leave here? It's horrible. I have no idea how you come here every day. Doesn't it make you miserable?"

Arthur watched as Elliot took the tissue, not commenting on the fact that he was tearing it up. He watched it for a few seconds, quietly noting the way he did it, the amount of precision versus uncaring; and then he looked back up. 

“That’s alright,” he promised. “You don’t have to give me perfect answers. Just whatever you feel is yours, that’s all I need.” 

He let it hang for a moment, his tongue lightly tracing his teeth before he sat back, looking briefly down to his notebook. “The Fae,” he echoed. “Yes. I know what they’re said to be. Wild things, old thing. Things that don’t always follow the same rules that we do.” 

His fingers tapped lightly against the notebook, before he chose to pull them back into his lap. His expression shifted for just a moment before he curled his hand back in his lap, looking back to the man. 

“But this curse follows rules. Doesn’t it?” His voice stayed soft, soothing and gentle. “You obey. You do what you’re told to. That sounds less like wild magic, and more like a cage someone built.” He tapped with his left hand, now, on his thigh, just for a moment; considering, talking gently. 

“I like that you say you want to leave, because of that. It tells me that you don’t like being trapped, and that’s good. Can try to remember who told you those rules, first? Can you tell me how you found out that you had to obey?” 

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Elliot had to wonder if spending time with Kiara really counted as spending time with an 'average' member of the smolfolk; certainly, she seemed more learned than the vast majority of manual servants around the castle.

"What would you call them?" He asked, clocking an opportunity to update his language so as to better blend in on future adventures. "I do not mean to... Insult anyone. It was mostly meant in jest, in the same way adults often refer to children as 'scoundrels' regardless of their behaviour?" His eyes widened slightly at her admission, though. "The forest? Truly? What of the spirits that inhabit it? I have heard... tales of them."

@curse-of-frell

She nodded at his explanation, seeing nothing odd in that except, perhaps, how eager he was to help her. It was unusual for near-strangers to be so kind, but Kiara would take the help when she could get it. A quiet chuckle escaped her at his comment on degenerates, and she shrugged.

"I don't think I would call them that," she argued, gently. "But no, I live further away from that encampment. Deeper in the forest, not far from the lake," she kept the description purposefully vague. No-one would suspect her of having magic just by looking at her, but they certainly would if they visited her home.

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"There's a storm coming. I'm going to need your help." (Bucky to Elliot)

"You ain't gonna get it, mate." Elliot replied without even looking away from the bartender, having caught sight of Bucky from the reflections in the numerous 'pretty' glasses behind the bar. "Come on, he'll leave. Just pour me another drink." But the woman was already turning her back, and Elliot let out a groan of irritation as he looked at the older man.

"I know who you are-" He paused. "I guess that ain't a big deal anymore, given your face has been plastered all over the gaff. But, like, I ain't interested in any of this 'helping people' crap. If my magic is going to be used for anyone, then it's going to be used for me to enjoy. Got it, handsome?" His sullen expression morphed into a bright grin seemingly instantly as he got over his initial irritation of spotting the American.

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((Hello!

After a load of stress and chaos and working constant overtime, I am so excited to be getting the keys to my own place on Friday :D It's a total wreck at the moment so I will still be slow on replies as I have to do most of the work myself due to expense, but the slow queue will continue

To be clear - I have not dropped any threads, will just be a lot slower than usual! Hope you're all doing well

[curse-of-frell]

"Yeah, but people are weird about labels these days; everything seems too complex to summarise with just a word." Elliot laughed. "Sometimes I wanna chat, sometimes I wanna sit in the park and draw - is true that alcohol definitely makes the first more likely though! Dunno what label that gives me-" He winked and then hummed as he considered.

"Alco-vert?" Another round of easy laughter, as though the sound rarely ever stopped coming from the young man's mouth.

There was a moment of hesitation at the assessment of his character before Elliot shrugged like he didn't really care. Not that it would take a psychiatrist to pick apart how Elliot presented himself to the world.

His eyes lingered on Arthur's fingers instead of the man's face as the moment kept his attention.

A shake of his head as the older man started about roles. "Most people prefer roles, prefer people around them to play roles - their idea of a good friend, a good partner. Yada yada. Trying to tell me you actually are a guy who sits mysteriously in bars or are you playing a role right now?"

"Oh, handsome. A good boy and a good man ain't the same thing. Good men don't exist. But I, quite literally, can't help but be a good boy." He

Arthur’s mouth twitched at the corner, something close to a smile threatening to form but never quite making it all the way. It was clear, though; he was listening, and Elliot’s words had landed somewhere deeper than the surface. 

“An extrovert is still a thing,” he confirmed, quietly. Amused that that was something that would be questioned, that the man’s drunken mind found it important. 

He could feel something in the cane, for just a moment. A subtle stirring, like something had been knocked off rhythm; the cane always felt like a pendulum, but it had been moved slightly off. As if there was something it was responding to - as if Elliot wasn’t quite what he appeared. 

“That’s a good instinct,” Arthur said, rather than trying to assume anything more. “To try and spare others from something that you’ve known. But drinking alone isn’t always a cry for help. Sometimes it’s just… quiet. And people get tired of noise.” 

He traced the rim of his glass with his finger, for a moment just listening and considering. “It sounds like you’ve done a lot in your life. Must be hard to tell where you end and the roles you’ve played begin.” 

His thumb tapped absently on the cane, as he looked over the man. “I’m glad to hear that, though. That you think you’re a good man.” 

[curse-of-frell]

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA ( 2006 ) dir. David Frankel

[curse-of-frell]

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