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Volterra Flat, Ryan
Topic Started: Oct 6 2010, 05:59 PM (26 Views)
Ryan Faye
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This is the flat that Ryan Faye lived in for the years he spent in Italy. It's nicely furnished, but covered in dust as it hasn't been touched in 4 years.

--&--


Crash. Slam. Smash. Sounds of destruction filled the air. There first came a loud thump, the solid landing of stone statue. Hands shot out first, knocking everything nearby onto the floor. Overstuffed couch cushions and gold-plated desk accessories tumbled to the floor with the chinks of broken glass and bumps of wood hitting carpet. Files on the desk met tearing fingers, ripping and wrenching fiber from fiber until crumpled papers littered the ground as well. A hand wrapped around a narrow strip of wood emerged from a black wand and next came a sudden swoosh of a flame, a loud crackling heat flooding the rug, extinguished a moment later. Smoke and smog raised from the wreckage, the blackened soot of torn pages and gold sparks from the plates still emitting feeble glows of light.

It was too bright.

Down came the overhead lamp. Hating the size of it (for it should be an impressive chandelier and cinematic smash) the lamp landed on its side, bulb extinguishing into a pile of broken wires and glass. He left the floating candles, the flickering flames alighting that dangerous glint in his black eyes as he flicked his gaze to the door. He was daring a landlord to come look for him, daring someone to come and tell him he shouldn’t. Swelling in his dangerous fury as the door remained stationary, he hooked his fingers around the side of it and ripped as hard as he could. Hinges bent in his hands and the wood splintered at the edges. Cracks appearing across the surface, he damn near well broke the door in half until it came free in his hand and was tossed to the center of the rug. Adrenaline pumping loud in his veins, his magic was imploding around him. There was a dangerous wrinkle in the air around Ryan’s head.

Merlin forbid anyone come through the empty door frame. But then, a man with a death wish would be a welcome addition to his little party...

He could still hear them. No matter how much noise he made. He could still hear them. It was all he could hear. The screeches they hurtled at each other, bellows and yells were echoing across his brain without him wanting them there. Every horrible, gut-wrenching memory from their past hadn’t so much just slapped him as they had given him a three-round brass-knuckled knock out. Down on the floor in the ring, Ryan sported black eyes and sickly yellow bruises over every square inch of his body. The cliché echoed with their argument: …“You should see the other guy”…

But thinking of Tiger hurt. So often in his life, causing others pain had been his own source of relief, but hurting Tiger? Hurting Tigs with every word wrenched from him...

It was a dull ache coupled with a wince in his ears as he listened to their screeches, their whispers. The face of her crying...the fact that he had caused it, not brought her in his arms as he so firmly had wanted...

And his foot kicked the broken lamp, waving his wand to extinguish all the lights around them. His protective charms held too well. He wanted that asshole to dare follow him here. He wanted to confront Mr. Anthony Noel over everything that he had just stolen from him. The normal life he had worked for so long to achieve, a wife who had loved him with everything she had, his children...and it was gone because one ~censored~ing initiate decided he was a liability. One cousin of his refused to play by the accepted bloody rules.

And so now he sat alone. He was alone in the dark in the miserable, smoking wreckage of his apartment. The casualty of his flat aside, Ryan fumbled for his pocket, ripping half a dozen different slits open his fingertip cutting through the fabric. Tiger and his children meant everything to him and now they were gone. He had lost them. Through a combination of temper and pain, this time he’d left. She was right again.

God dammit, Tiger was usually right. She’d been right about most everything he shouted.

He was lighting a piece of paper in fire in the dark room in front of him, levitating it and staring at it pointlessly. Out of his pocket, he finally found what he was looking for. The pocket watch in his hand, he stared and realized something else. Even Abi would not be answering that watch, would not be answering his call.

He was truthfully completely alone.

Tears fell off his cheeks and he stared at the watch anyway, eyes glued to the glass inside of it. Thoughts of trying to comfort Tigs were rolling around his mind, his anger truly being at the situation more than her. He couldn’t understand how it had come to this. Running the facts over in his mind, Ryan was murderous. He could not see what was more justified in the moment than to plan that murder, before he burned every possession of his in his old flat. He had to go home, but he had no where to go. He wanted to reunite with his family, it didn’t process that they weren’t his family anymore. They always would be. Still with tears rolling down his cheeks, Ryan sat crooked on an incinerated couch cushion, and bent his head forward in his hands, staring all the while at the pocket watch. His lips were moving to whisper out these wants, whisper out plans, as he thought he might go insane in any other circumstance. Ryan was livid and bittersweet. They had...they had to fix this. His mind eye thought of that glow of the porch of Eternite, the game room, that fabulous elf costume of Tigs...his daughters, his son...

More tears.

It was an all-consuming want, as that of his family back together was to painful a thought. He knew his children would be cared for well by their respective mothers. They were safer without him. No, he had to stop thinking about Tiger, he had to focus on solving the immediate problem. Whether or not the bastard was relevant anymore didn’t matter; he’d been the catalyst. He was the one that had cost him his wife, cost him his house and family.

Anthony Noel, if the bastard had a heart, its’ beats were firmly numbered.

Only now did he realize, he was breathing in such fervor that it was apparent of the marathon he’d just read. He hadn’t truly remembered breathing since he’d spoken Daniella’s name. His love for them all, his love for his family, was unbearable. It was a heavy weight on his chest, expanding in the pain and that odd sensation of everything having broken. He didn’t get what the hell had happened, where he’d gone wrong. All the words had fell from him in a rudimentary fashion; he hadn’t had to think until she’d mentioned Daniella. And now they were alone. What was Noel’s problem? Voldemort’s? His fathers? Why did everyone seem to have such a problem with his family?

Was he breathing again yet?

His family was untraditional, messed up, too large for it’s own good--but it was his family. Tiger was his wife--and now her wedding ring sat in his palm. He rubbed ath is eyes again, coarse rough skin treating his red cheek with the tenderness of sandpaper.

His problem was how deeply he cared. The fact that he couldn’t turn that off. He was always told he should, always supposed to figure out how to. Yet hard as he might, despite how internalized he was, how shut down and out of the eye of life as he was, he just simply couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t see anything wrong with it. There was nothing wrong with loving Tiger how he did. There was nothing wrong with his love for his children. He would literally do anything for them; the limits were free of restraints. Steal, lie, and kill were included in that list of everything: whatever could keep them all safe was their job.

His head bent forward and his fingers searched out the back of his neck. The acrid prickling scent of everything they’d burned had settled, but it still felt aflame as he took a breath and shut the pocket watch, dropping it back into his pocket--tears formed and spilled.

It hurt.
Edited by Ryan Faye, Oct 6 2010, 06:00 PM.
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bite the hand that feeds / tap the vein that bleeds.
I'd break the back of love for you.
it's in the water, baby, it's between you and me.



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