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Post by CHARLOTTE BRIELLE KAINE on Feb 24, 2013 20:05:56 GMT -5
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lover don't you dare slow down; Go longer you can last more rounds They were all different, each small flake of snow falling outside the window of the most prestigious hotel in Boston on the dreary day of February fourteenth otherwise known as Valentine’s Day to celebrators but for this woman it would be known as her wedding day. She was twenty-three and the past six months of her life were a roller coaster, a catapult, the fastest moving car into the ledge of rocks. She was never prepared for her life to become this way, she never dreamt of this wealth, notoriety, and a marriage to a man she didn’t love. Past not loving this man, she didn’t know him and what she did know of him wasn’t a crystal clean image or record. There was the lingering grieving of a family in wreckage, two members slain by gunshots and a fire that burned their bodies. There was no joy in this wedding, there was no need for it either. She was self-propelling herself into this misery now, no man held her head down while he swung his sword, she was choosing to meander this way now on her own. She still felt trapped, but she was free she could run from this alter and never marry this man. When did it become her priority to care whether he live or die because of the trouble situation his father was in? She could choose not to care, she could not walk down this aisle, she could stay alone as the new ceo of murphy enterprises and never take a husband. He didn’t love her nor she love him, he did nothing to show her that this wouldn’t be a fool’s mistake. The wave gained the undertow, rose to its greatest height and crashed into her. She wanted to be swept away into the undertow, no amount of alcohol could ever ease the pain of a broken soul.
A sob racked her thin frame and tears wasted no time in threatening, but escape her swollen eyes as she sank to the padded cushion of her chair. She never knew her brother to be a heroic gentlemen of any sort, he was neither heroic nor gentle on any of his days as long as she knew him. Yet in his last moments he chose strength, preservation, and determination to save the girl he tangle himself in since the moment he met her. There wasn’t a sense of love in his actions, it was a genuine instinct to save the younger over the older, and it was purely knowing there was no need for her death. She had years ahead of her, he was eight years ahead of her and he could have had many more. Yet he was uncharacteristically nothing like himself, he saved her and she must have known that. There was a lump sum of five millions dollars attached to the safe return, but Jameson Lloyd Quinn’s life did not end in vain for her safety. The ransom was given to see the woman come back home to her family, the only one out of the three on that boat who ever would. As for the father, her father, Peter – the ending of his life meant an inheritance and the beginning of a new darkly shrouded dawn. She was now the chief executive officer of his life’s work and she felt unworthy, stressed beyond belief. She always assumed this day would come and she would have a brother to oversee her affairs alongside, but he was swept into the sea, his ashes forever gone. This voicemail from two days prior to his death, she had to find strength to listen. It could be the only source of solace available.
Quietly, she grasped the iPhone white in color and hot from the heat of her hands, she wiped away any stray tears and brought the screen to brightness, going for the voicemail to listen to this message. Her thumb pressed the button for speaker and pressed play, her intake of air was sharp in anticipation. “Hey, Charlotte, Char, Lotte, whatever it is you prefer yourself to be called. Just listen for a quick minute.” The only thing she could hear was the sound of him driving the Lamborghini he adored so. “That’s the sound of perfection, sister. It makes me so happy and you know, I don’t think if anyone ever told you this, but you do deserve to be happy. Some people are just shit, shit, shit, shit. Shitty people birthed from assholes, y’know? So you shouldn’t have to tolerate them. Also, seriously sis, don’t marry this guy. Why bother? Why care? I don’t see it, don’t see the point. Seems stupid to me. Also, I’m jabbering off on your phone while I drive by these poor folk just to add how rich I am. Like, you peasants I have a Lamborghini and I talk like rich people do while they drive. You know? They do it in reality shows. We should get one, people would love us. They’d adore you. We could be called “Charlotte and Jamie Run Boston,” Something like that, ‘cause people watched those Kardashian whores jiggle their tits, so why not? Why not you booty shake and I’ll wiggle my sack around? Sounds like a show, sounds like a show. Oh, okay, gotta go. Business calls and also, remember, do what makes you happy or whatever. It’s a good thing you’ll delete this without listening to it because I am drunk and tripping balls right now. Kay bye.”
The laughter that erupted, bubbled over and spilled out into open air. She grasped the tissues by her chair and wiped away tears, blowing her nose. She found the solace, it would be enough for now, but there was no turning back from this. She decided when she bought the dress with her mother in company without her maid of honor, she was marrying him no matter how cold her feet felt. Her mother’s happiness rested and relied on this day, she needed the break from mourning her firstborn son. This was to be a happy day, she couldn’t cry anymore. She squared her shoulders and turned to face the woman she grown to call her best friend, she offered a tentative smile. What words could she say over mourning the loss of her brother? She knew that Jamie wasn’t a man that her friend cared much for and with good reason, he gave her a reason to be bothered by his presence. Yet, if anything, Jamie never intentionally hurt her younger sister. He saved her, he died with the belief that he had. Making her way to the chair, the pair sat down beside each other, Charlotte felt attacked as people washed and placed a new face on. They disappeared and moved to the back of her head. Quietly, she look at Genesis in the mirror, appreciating the beauty in the other woman, envious of the dark tresses and her well-endowed breasts.
“Have you ever gotten a headache from just how fast your life moves? That’s me… Marrying already…. You know, you should have taken this day for you and Huck, it’s valentine’s day, the day of lovers! Not day of watch charlotte marry cato sort of thing. You guys should be having sex covered in chocolate and hearts or something.” Charlotte mentioned simply, ignoring the light laughter of the man doing her hair. She was being sincere, she didn’t like acknowledging that she was halting the merrymaking for a happy couple. She made her way through the sea of people until she stood alone in her wedding dress in front of a floor length mirror. She didn’t know where her mother was in all of this, this was a moment that the woman should be relishing in, but she was absent and while Charlotte wasn’t pleased, she knew her mother. The woman had been held back from meeting her future son-in-law and she was off to find him on her own.
Marcy Quinn was never the mother to listen to the wills of her children and in fragile state, she became much gustier when it came to pushing boundaries. With her oldest son killed by the flames of a fire, as she had been told and she was not aware of anything beyond that, she wanted her remaining two children to be their happiest. Jameson told her time and time again that Charlotte’s husband to be was a bad man, he would hurt her and make her cry. If it was to be true, Marcy could not stand by and let her daughter make such a foolish mistake. With her younger son in tow and advising her to refrain from meddling, she would not have it. Turning the corner, she found him standing with his father and waiting for their orders. “Cato Kaine, groom-to-be? Hi, I’m Marcy Quinn, Charlotte’s mother.” Engulfing him in her arms, she hugged, squeezing despite her frail nature and size made it hardly uncomfortable. Her cancer was winning, but for the sake of her family’s hearts, she held on without letting her pain show. She pulled away but only enough to grab his face, tilting and moving in her weak hands.
“What a handsome young man you are, I feel so blessed to know I will call you my son-in-law within hours. You know I have two things for you, one you can have now and the others I made for you. I hope you enjoy chocolate chip cookies because I made you about four dozen and they’re just for you. Now, this, this is very special. We, the Quinn’s, we don’t have money like Charlotte has money now. But we decided that we wanted to welcome you and we know you do come from wealth, so we pooled our current savings to buy you these.” Offering him the box, she didn’t allow him to open it as he shaky hands open to reveal the pair off cufflinks. The center of them a black mother of pearl, surrounded by 2.2 carats of diamonds around it all set in white gold The cost crippled them, and it was a source of argument between her husband and herself. To give the man your daughter was marrying, thirty thousand dollar cufflinks was outrageous. Marcy knew it was fake, but the diseases she was troubled with convinced her that there was hope for them to work in time. She wished for love even if she knew it would never happen. “I hope you love them and know that I will care for you from a sincere place. I’ll see you as a child, part of my children, but I respect you and it comes from the genuine part of my heart. I’ll never call you son and you never have to call me mom, it wouldn’t be right. You are my son-in-law and I know that. I want you to know that I’m welcoming you to my family and I care about you, too. I want you both to be happy.” She hugged him again and she left him with the box, knowing full well she was needed elsewhere.
Charlotte stood taking the arm of her father, the man who raised her and not the man who created her. She nodded at his question of whether or not she was nervous. As she was, this was happening and she was nauseous at the thought. She watched Genesis make her way down the aisle and take her place as she moved closer. They stood for her and the music hummed and bothered her ears. She looked up from her feet to look at Cato, but it wasn’t a look of love, she as scared. Did he know she was scared? This wasn’t funny anymore, she didn’t know her mother already welcomed him to her family. The walk to him seemed long and when she was there, her bouquet was passed off, the words long, joined by I Do’s.
Married.
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Post by CATO JULIUS KAINE on Feb 26, 2013 17:23:39 GMT -5
those that entertain and those that observe Genesis looked up and into the mirror, distracted from her eyeliner as Charlotte addressed her. Her friend had been stoic all day, very typical of Charlotte nowadays, so her voice sounded foreign after her silence extending out endlessly. Genesis's hazel eyes took her in, resplendent and beautiful in her poofy wedding dress, and she smiled genially at Charlotte's reflection in the mirror they shared.
"I do," she admitted, wrinkling her nose at the pun. "No pun intended. But, seriously, Charlotte, today is about you. Valentine's day can wait. It's just another day. Huck and I can do something later." She didn't know if Huck had anything planned for them, and if he did, then he was keeping the surprise very well. She knew he wasn't thrilled to be here, that much was obvious, but she'd promised to make it worth his while later.
"Although sex covered in chocolate does sound pretty good..." she joked, giggling along with the hairstylist.
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Cato stood impatiently with his father, awaiting orders from the wedding director. He hated being ordered around like this. He was a spoiled brat, and he liked doing things his own way. This wedding was enough of a headache, he didn't like having to wait for the damn thing to happen. Huffing irritably, he only turned when he heard his name and looked to his left to see a slender blond woman approaching him.
He instantly knew she was Charlotte's mother even before she confirmed it verbally. Charlotte took after the woman, although she shared some of her father's features. Their build was certainly the same. He sneered at her as she approached him, but all of a sudden, she was grabbing him and suffocating him in her arms. His dark, almost black, eyes widened in surprise and his arms stayed at his sides as Marcy crushed him to her chest.
Cato never knew his own mother since she died in childbirth. Deep inside, past the layers of douchiness he'd built over the years, he always wondered what his mother was like. His father was a too-strict diplomat with little time for his son, leading Cato to begin acting out from childhood. But he envisioned his mother as an angel, with her glowing hair and clothes, the image of perfection. He idolized her, and he'd never known her. She was his dream woman, on a pedestal out of his reach.
As Marcy Quinn crushed him to her slender frame, something in his heart softened and broke, bending against her embrace. This had nothing to do with Charlotte. She was Charlotte's mother, yes, but this woman was not Charlotte. At least, in his mind, she wasn't. She was safe. He could show her affection, if he so willed it, because she was not a threat. However, if he showed her daughter any affection, that would be like accepting this ill fate his father had concocted for him, and he wouldn't allow that to happen.
She pulled away from him, holding him at arms' length, and he watched her tentatively with his dark eyes. Suddenly, she grabbed his face, puffing up his cheeks in her grip, and his eyes widened again as she shifted his head back and forth to examine him like a prize pony. She began to ramble on about how happy she was that he was going to be her son-in-law, and he felt a pang of regret that he didn't love her daughter. Apparently, Marcy was unaware of the arrangement, and for once, he decided to save her any embarrassment. It was a benevolent gesture for a man so used to being selfish and sadistic, and it surprised even him.
She spoke consistently, giving him no room to speak, but he didn't want to. Instead, he watched her face, so full of enthusiasm for a marriage she obviously hoped would be a fruitful one, and he found himself intensely entertained by her. He smiled slightly, his eyes wrinkling around the sides like a man who smiled often, although he hadn't been doing much smiling since his surprise engagement.
When she opened the package, flashing the cufflinks for him, his eyes widened appreciatively. They certainly the most opulent thing he would ever own, and he had a very accurate estimate of their net worth catalogued in his brain simply because of his upbringing, but the outgoing gesture from this woman touched him. He allowed her to get to those remnants of emotion within him, although he would never admit it.
He graciously accepted the box, pulling them out and allowing them to roll into the palm of his hand. "They're lovely. Thank you," he commented sincerely, offering her a small smile that was very unlike him. "I'll wear them now. I'm sure Charlotte won't mind." He didn't give a shit if Charlotte minded or not, but he honestly believed she wouldn't. If she was a healthy human being at all, surely she loved her mother. What was not to love? If the woman was this affectionate to her children as she was being to a man she wasn't even related to by blood, then surely she was adored.
Shaking out his arm so his suit jacket pulled back above his shirt sleeve, he undid the cufflinks already hooked through his shirt and dropped them unceremoniously on a nearby table - someone would come along and gather them, surely - and replaced them with the gift. Appraising them, he gave Marcy a kind smile and nodded his head slightly in approval. "Somehow they seem to suit me perfectly, my dear," he pointed out with a grin.
Then she threw him off guard yet again by admitting she would care for him as one of her children. Even if he didn't love Charlotte, he loved this woman. She already vowed to care about him, and she didn't know him. She didn't know he was a pompous asshole who hated her daughter. How could she? Unless Charlotte had told her, and somehow, he doubted the topic had arisen in conversation.
And she was hugging him again, making a surge of regret topple over him. As he held her in his arms, this time returning her hug, he sighed to himself. She finally released him and left him standing in silence. Glancing down at his sleeve, he pulled his arm up and gripped the shirt so he could admire the cufflinks. How appropriate. A black soul surrounded by the glittering white outer shell. They really did fit him perfectly.
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The entire ceremony was a resplendent thing, full of the pomp and circumstance with no feeling. If it was as palpable in the air to everyone else as it was to Cato, then surely the newspapers would be reporting on this sham of a marriage in the morning. But he doubted it was. He was good at hiding his true feelings for the public eye, expert at concealing his true self from the press. He smiled at all the right times, even feigned a look of amazement at the sight of his bride. He resisted the urge to openly lust over her maid of honor - who was a hot piece of ass if he'd ever seen one - and he kept his eyes carefully trained on Charlotte.
If he was willing to admit it, she did look beautiful. He'd thought she was attractive since the day he'd been forced to meet her, but he'd never admitted it, and he wouldn't. He merely shrugged it off as the simple fact that at least he wouldn't be completely miserable fucking her to reproduce if the need arose. He would fuck her for pleasure, but if she disallowed it, he would go elsewhere. That understanding seemed to have already arisen between them without being said.
Not a moment too soon, the vows were done, and Cato was officially a married man.
He didn't feel any different than he had before the ceremony. He still didn't love the woman who shared his last name. He still didn't want to be tied down to her, or anyone else for that matter. But for the record books, for the Irish mafia which would be protecting his father and himself in return for this blasphemous union, he was Cato Kaine, husband of one Charlotte Kaine.
He was disgusted with himself as he stood on the sidelines of his own reception. His father sidled up beside him, and Cato was one step away from decking the older man. He hated weddings. He hated white. All of it irritated him.
"Dance with your bride," came his father's simple order. It was spoken under his breath, in his Belarusian accent mixed with the New Yorker in him, but it was clear and precise. Cato was to assume all show of being in love with this woman. It was part of the deal, or they would die. It was stupid and ignorant, but it was his requirement. Smile for the cameras, fuck the sluts in the darkness.
Shoving his empty champagne glass at his father's chest, rough enough to drive the air out of Kirill's lungs in a whoosh of air, Cato stalked off across the floor to his wife who stood speaking with her maid of honor. Stepping up behind her, he stepped surreptitiously on her dress - just to be an ass where no one would notice but her - and slid his hand over the beads on her back, looping his arm around her slender waist. Tugging her against him, he smiled benignly at her friend - whose name wasn't important enough for him to remember - and then glanced at Charlotte. His eyes were devoid of emotion, but his face looked like a man in love to anyone who didn't know the truth.
"It's time for our dance, my dear," his tone had a hard edge, so subtle that he knew only she would hear it. He swept her away from the other girl at that moment, ignoring any niceties he may owe the company.
He was a magnificent dancer, thanks to years of being groomed as a gentleman, and he easily spun her out on to the dance floor as the bandstand announced the bride and groom's first dance. His dark eyes flashed at her as the lights lowered and zeroed in on her. "I would say you were beautiful today, but that seems overdone and overused. I could also be pleasant, but that would merely bore and irritate me." He smiled sweetly down at her, pulling her closer against him so his feet were lost in the pounds of fabric hanging from her waist to her feet. "I could also pretend to love you, but that's going to get old after a while as well, don't you think?"
Bending over her shoulder, he gently kissed her skin and the reverberating 'awwww' of the crowd made him smile against her shoulder. "We put on a marvelous show, wouldn't you say?" he murmured to her, raising his head and looking back into her lighter eyes. CHARLOTTE | ACTUAL MARRIED DOUCHEBAG CATO |
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Post by CHARLOTTE BRIELLE KAINE on Feb 28, 2013 22:53:36 GMT -5
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lover don't you dare slow down; Go longer you can last more rounds “You may now kiss your bride.” The words should not have felt as haunting as they did or give the bride such cold chill, but they had. The kiss itself was no better, it was just as emotionless, meaningless as this marriage and just as cold as his black eyes. Perhaps Charlotte was marrying the devil and protecting him reasons never fully explained to her by the parties involved. If anything she took on the same evil light as her late father in the eyes of Boston’s upper class. She was their newcomer, inheriting a business and a wealth she didn’t make on her own. Several of these people, she didn’t know their names. She didn’t have anyone to guide her, the man she called her husband hated her possibly more than anyone else she knew other than a former best friend and the one bride they stole the venue out from under a few weeks prior.
She would have been satisfied if that was the end to her evening, but unfortunately there was an expectation for a celebration, a party: the reception and it seemed it was an open invitation to all of Boston. Some sort of excuse to party which is what she gathered and what she assumed, but she was in no mood for niceties and to thank for people coming. She could snarl and ask them why they even came to the sham that gossip sites and tabloids had already exploited. She didn’t even asks the reps to deny the claims but she didn’t ask for them to confirm them either. Someone within her loop of employees would, she had no doubt in the fact. There was always a source in the story, she just didn’t want to address her demons head on.
A change in scenery and dress later, Charlotte strolled out to greet people and thank them for coming. She understood, for the first time, where wealth and fame didn’t allow you to be the person you were. She understood why her brother built a wall and she understood why he didn’t let people get close to him. These people wanted little to do with knowing her, they picked her apart from head to toe with their eyes and pursed lips. Some were better at acting than the others, but they were all people invested and tied into her late father’s business. They wanted to know their investments were safe, their properties would sell and they wouldn’t deflate in value.
She found that she said more apologies and reassurances over words of gratitude. There was a loneliness blossoming in her chest, it was raw and cold unlike something she ever felt. Charlotte Quinn wasn’t Charlotte Murphy and neither of those two women were Charlotte Kaine. She was to be just as cold and indifferent as her husband, to tolerate him would be something laughable, to break in the eyes of so many people would be a hassle, and to care just seemed more farfetched than the idea of living on Mars.
Their mealtime conversation was led by her mother, Charlotte didn’t have the willpower to stop her nor the desire. If not for Marcy Quinn their dinner would be awkward, quiet, the clinking of silverware and wine glasses. She found herself zoning out Marcy’s questions, where did Cato go to school? Did he play sports? Did he like holidays? Would he come over for easter, thanksgiving, st. patrick’s day, Christmas, news year? What was his favorite food? Did he have any travel plans? They were all questions that Charlotte assumed she was asking for not only knowledge for herself but for Charlotte as well, but the younger woman found herself looking out the sea of faces.
This really more lonely than she expected.
She eventually found herself rejoined with Genesis amongst the sea of people, dancing already started and Charlotte had to abandon her family for a different conversation. Yet there was this similar emotion, this wall that she didn’t realize she built. She wasn’t invested, she didn’t care – she didn’t feel above anyone, but she didn’t feel like she was part of them. When spoken to she spoke back, her eyes lighting in happiness, briefly, until she felt the weight of a foot on her dress. She turned and glanced upward before feeling his hand traveled across her back and tug her against him. She made a quiet noise of displeasure, not afraid of what the people she considered her friends would think. His eyes were just as devoid of emotion as hers, they understood what was expected of them.
She didn’t like the limelight, she didn’t like cameras flashing, and she didn’t like spotlights. Most of all, she didn’t like this man and she didn’t like his chin, she hated his chin. She smiled at his words, but not for any reason other than acknowledgement that he really wanted to play this game with her. She was feeling particularly vicious and spiteful He bent over, his lips kissed her shoulder and the crowd did some sort of coo of emotion. She found it mildly irritating, she wasn’t used to being watched. She was a woman who enjoyed playing World of Warcraft, League of Legends, she was a woman who wanted to go home to her new room and watch Game of Thrones and fangirl of Tyrion Lannister and the wit of his words. She didn’t want to be out on display, but she would love to slap the chin off of this man.
“I could say you look handsome, but I would rather say you’re a spoiled rotten child in an adult suit. I could say you smell nice, but that would only be if I enjoyed the smell of bars. I could say I was lucky to have you, but I really feel that you’re just another dead horse to drag around. I have to agree, it’s going to get old lying all the time.” She smiled, a bit wider this time. “We can put on a good show, that’s all you will be good for, right? Until I can divorce your Belarusian New Yorker ass for not even doing that right.”
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Post by CATO JULIUS KAINE on Mar 1, 2013 10:55:43 GMT -5
those that entertain and those that observe Cato smiled as she spitefully bit back at him with her words. She could be a fiesty little thing when she wasn't busy being a robot. His chest swelled with the challenge, and he lifted his head so his dark, fathomless eyes turned on her. "You feel that you need to drag me around, my dear?" he asked, stressing the last word with a disgusted lilt in his New York accent. Sweeping her to the side, across the dance floor, he smiled for the cameras as they swung past. "Perhaps it is I would must drag you. How long have you been a socialite, after all, Charlotte? How familiar are you with these cameras, and these lights, and these people? These people who would tear into you even worse than I will. If your own husband despises you, how do you think these people will treat you?"
He turned his head, pressing his cheek against the side of her head so she would turn her face and look at the crowd that surrounded them. As they danced, the faces became a blur, a litany of people they knew and didn't know, all blended together. Cameras flashed, bright lights blinded them, and it was a cacophony of sensations as the entire crowd lined up for a bite of the Kaines. "They want to tear you to bits, Charlotte. You can lie, pretend for the sake of them - for your sake - or you can feed yourself to them. Lying all the time isn't boring, it's just complicated. Do you think you can keep up?"
He raised his eyebrows, his expression pleasant, teasing in the eyes of the onlookers, even as his eyes flashed down at her, the tension between them building. Although he didn't love her, her sudden ability to snap back at him turned him on in the strangest way. He liked resistance more than he liked affection. His relationship with his father had always been a tug and pull sort of relationship, and the two men had never shown one another much love. It wasn't their way. Perhaps if Cato's mother had survived his birth, then their family dynamic would have been different, but alas, that was not the case. In his attempts to groom his son, Kirill had only managed to ostracize him and push him farther and farther away through his attempts. The pushier he got, the farther Cato pulled away, until they had such a gap between them that only their shared blood kept them connected.
Cato didn't know how to love someone, and he had no desire to do so. He certainly wouldn't be setting himself up to love Charlotte. He was forced in to this, and as far as he was concerned, this was a business arrangement. It kept him alive, and his own well-being mattered to him more than anything.
As the song came to a close, he spun her away from him and then twirled her back in, catching her across her back and dipping her low, looking into her eyes the entire time. With the lights and the flashes, the voices cheering for them, there was a moment where his eyes widened slightly and there was a flash of something between the two of them. It felt like an electrical surge, some strange sort of chemistry, and it was gone as quickly as it came. Straightening and setting her back on her feet, he cleared his throat and the look was gone, his brooding eyes dark once more.
"I need a drink." And with that, he left her on the edge of the dance floor, disappearing toward the outskirts of the party.
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Patting Huck on his back, Lysander squeezed his shoulders gently before slipping away through the crowd, leaving his best friend and his girlfriend to talk about whatever they wanted. He was sure it would be something he wouldn't want details about later anyway, and he knew Huck wasn't in the mood to accompany him to visit the bride.
Charlotte had been Huck's other best friend since high school, and Lysander had been friends with her as well, although they were never as close. She'd depended on Huck, and that was fine with Lysander. However, the rift, the dissolution of that friendship, had created a hole in his perfect existence. It was one of those awkward subjects that made the room go silent when it came up. It was uncomfortable.
Limping slightly through the crowd, having developed the limp from the bruising along his legs that still had not healed, a result of being raped then pummeled with the bodies of dead animals - an image his mind had not had enough time to recover from - Lysander worked his way to the last place he'd seen Charlotte. Emerging from the crowd, he smiled slightly at her as he approached her, oblivious to the hateful conversation she'd just shared with her husband. "Charlotte, you look beautiful," he told her, smiling broadly. His smile covered the emotional pain he still suffered because of his plight during the blackout, but no one noticed. Only Jo knew what had happened to him, what had really happened, and he didn't even talk about it with her.
Hugging Charlotte gently, he dropped his hands and offered her his elbow, motioning toward the dance floor with his head. "May I have this dance?" CHARLOTTE | GUEST-STARRING LYSANDER |
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Post by CHARLOTTE BRIELLE KAINE on Mar 4, 2013 9:19:42 GMT -5
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lover don't you dare slow down; Go longer you can last more rounds
She wasn’t raised to exist in the world of socialites, celebrities the like – the woman who rapidly became inept to her life was not a socialite. If she could vocalize her true desires then he would have known that she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be married to a man she didn’t know who would never know who she truly is. She was to be a prisoner in her own home without any expression of who she was. Charlotte liked video games, science fiction, fantasy; she worked hard to be at level ninety for her guild in world of Warcraft, to have a number of points in league of legends. She didn’t work hard for her wealth or newly onset importance in the public eye. Truly she didn’t feel important at all, she didn’t feel she had changed who she was for this new life. She was still there under layers and layers of a harder shell to protect herself, she wasn’t lost. She couldn’t become like her late older brother who changed who lost his sense of self to this world. Dancing with this man, she had hardened resolution to never break face around him or them.
She could put up with the bullshit that was Cato Kaine.
“If you choose to despise me, then so be it. There are plenty of women who read the tabloids and gossip that sympathize with the woman. So try me, Cato, hate me. Inexperienced with this new life style that I may be, I still have the upper hand when it comes to this marriage. It is not you nor Kirill who have the relationship and the importance to the Irish mafia, it is me and slowly me now. Without Peter around to force me to stay married to you, this could fall apart tomorrow. That would certainly be such a shame for you, with your life hinging on this protection.” She snapped back at him, she could see the challenge and she wouldn’t let him get to her. She was constantly reminding herself that whether or not he was safe, she didn’t care. She went through with the marriage slowly because there had been such a big show and commotion during peter’s life to not go through with it. If she had been a particularly spiteful woman she would have left him at the altar. She hasn’t though, she knew how valuable appearances were.
Her mother didn’t know it was a sham, but she was oblivious to all the murmurs of these men and women who wanted something to rip apart. Amongst a sea of monsters sat a woman overjoyed and happy to have a married child, her daughter no less. She had the slight idea that was something was off, but when her daughter told her there was nothing to worry about, she leapt to believe the words. She wanted to think that there was nothing wrong with the dynamic, but with the unpleasant silence between them, eventually it would become obvious to Marcy. The song came to a close and she kept her eyes in a lock with his, she felt the strange current between them. She didn’t want to admit there was anything there, attraction based and she had to drive her point home before their separation for the rest of the evening. One dance was all that was required, she would cut the cake by herself for all that it mattered. She didn’t want to touch him again after parting. “I can keep up, but can you? Without humiliating me and risking your protection lost? Chew on that, big boy.” She snapped and to all he replied was that he needed a drink and disappeared. She set her shoulders stiff and her head high, she wanted to cry because the realization that these pointless jabs would be her life until she divorced him.
She questioned her sense of self for even marrying him or agreeing. She would have run far away from Boston the minute Peter came into her life and all of her friendships dissolved. There was nothing here for any more, but pain and more pain. She finally understood why no one was truly sane in the limelight.
Realizing she was still standing there stupidly, she nervously straightened her dress before deciding she wanted to move, a flute of champagne or wine would suit her well. She wasn’t drunk enough yet, that was possibly the only thing she had in common with her husband at this moment. They both wanted to get drunk and she wanted to get drunk so that going home she could go to her room, lock it and ignore the entire situation existed. She mused that all people had childish thoughts and she wasn’t so alone in that aspect.
Snapping from her the thoughts she was lost in, she noticed she was no longer alone despite that thought shouldn’t be as surprising as it felt. She was joined by the company of one Lysander Grey, Huck’s best friend and her vet for her now late chows. She knew that what had happened at the vets wasn’t his fault and that he was a victim of what happened at his clinic just like the animals that lost their lives. It was the brief realization she didn’t have her fluffy counterparts to snuggle with when she got home that stung. It didn’t show on her face, she smiled back and hugged the man in greeting. It was awkward, this friendship had little to it without Huck and she wasn’t going to make attempts no longer to be his friend. She was out of his life and he was out of her. To be friends with Genesis and Lysander now happened on their own terms. Being around Genesis was a constant reminder of her mistakes, but Lysander didn’t remind her of that. What she was reminded of was the time she fainted and that he kissed her. It was hardly an appropriate thought for a married woman, but when he asked her to dance her eyes watched his lips and she remembered it clearly.
She grasped his elbow and smiled, “Thank you, it’s kind of a requirement for a wedding day to look beautiful. I can admit I feel less than beautiful, but you’ll have that.” She wanted comforting, but she couldn’t expect to find that in Lysander. Dancing with him was a pleasant distraction to what ate at her mind currently and he was a gentle spirit, he was more calming than she expect him to be, she wished he had been her best friend over Huck and she knew that more so now than ever.
words 1115 tagged cato ft. lysander notes it's true but if my friends ask where you are i'm gonna say |
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