the lines we toe: starcrossed lovers {birch v. blackmore}
Apr 10, 2014 1:00:23 GMT -5
Post by Meghan on Apr 10, 2014 1:00:23 GMT -5
Milo Birch
Fourteen
District Two
1,924 words
template by
Meghan
Tonight's celebration was prescribed to me as the most important event of the entire year, but I knew better than to believe this shallow lie from parents unattached from reality. The Blackmores and the Birches were always meant to merge. We were the deadliest, the bravest, and the wealthiest families in the District. It was hard to surpass our glory -- and our dishonor, especially in light of recent events.
It was clear that the Birch family was slipping from grace. It was not an easy fall and we did not stumble smoothly. Our failure came from swords sliced clean through necks and hopeless struggle on the field of battle. We were no longer impressive in the eyes of society, even as we futilely fought our way up the score boards in the dim lights of our training center.
It had become clear that tonight's union with the Blackmores, one where every member of the Birch family, close or not close was expected to attend, was not because we were powerful and we wanted to share in the light with the other family. No, we did not come to celebrate, for we had lost our societal standing the minute the fourth member of our family had lost his life in what should have been his most honored stage.
The truth was our parents had become desperate. We all heard the whispering in the hallways of our school, and the subtle cut in pay was not missed for those of us who were working. The respect district two once held for our family of careers was crumbling before our eyes. Surely this charade was a doomed attempt? The Blackmore's as a whole tolerated us (and I dared not speak of them as individuals. Surely I could not give my mother the satisfaction of seeing her little plan work), and we were welcome in their presence, but our position had been demolished in their eyes too.
I knew this was futile, yet I did not fight my mother's attempts to dress the four of us to the nines. Although I was the youngest of our branch of the family, she still threw all her efforts into making me look as grown-up as possible. After all, I was her crowning jewel, her everlasting glory. Objectively, I had come out on top in training, and therefore I deserved the most respect. It had become exhausting, really, and by the time I emerged from our manor, dressed in a shimmering gold dress, I felt like a peacock who had been plucked of all their feathers. Nobody would fall for such an act, especially after the mistake I had made in training only days before.
My scars were clearly visible, but I did not hide them in shame. My mother had fretted over the thick lines of pink that snaked down my arms and criss-crossed against my exposed legs. "What if they think you are weak, Milo, darling?" The lady had insisted, but I shook my head at her several times to get my point across. Firm words followed my objections: "Mother, these people do not object to pain. You got to trust me on this at least. My pain will only be our gain, I promise."
I was starting to regret my promises as I followed the crowd into the Blackmore manor. My eyes flitted from the large hall to the pictures on the wall. I could see his photograph, still just as vile and cruel as it was before. My breath caught in my throat as my father led me past the spot where he had touched me, and suddenly I felt myself go faint. I had to grab his arm in order to remain standing.
"Sweetums, what's wrong?" He inquires, turning towards me in order to fully support my weight. I cannot speak in my sudden fear. All I can do is stare into his eyes, the same shade as my own green, and try to convey every rush of emotion I was experiencing. I was not usually one for expressing feeling, especially towards those closet to me, but for some reason this moment felt like an exception.
"Um, I'm sorry, Father. I felt a little sick for a second there." Sick being the light-term for the gut-wrenching nausea that was trying to leap straight from my throat. "Must be the nerves, eh?" He nodded, but I could tell he was unconvinced. I would have to do better to conceal each and every lie.
Every step we took closer to the manor's large dining hall was a step closer to him. I could feel my heart leap in my chest, my emotions churning back and fourth between fright and anger. Which demeanor would I exhibit when I passed through the threshold and came face-to-face with the one person who was able to invade my nightmares?
I did not have much time to consider my impeding reaction. Soon we had crossed into the room and fell into line, waiting for proper instructions. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I was quickly distracted by the smiling form of Logan, who had walked across the room as soon as we entered. To greet my parents, I presumed. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Logan turned directly towards me.
"Hey, Milo." He greeted me with open arms, repeating the action from a week before. I did not have the chance to say anything before I was engulfed in his hug.
"Oh... hey, Logan. How are you?" I ask him quickly. I do not let go, not willing to leave the embrace just yet. He leans in towards my ear and whispers.
"I'm fine. How's my pretty killer today?" His breath is hot in my ear and I feel my face go flush with embarrassment. Was this normal friend behavior?
I pull away from him, but my fingers still brush his shoulders. "Oh, just fantastic, Lo'. Not really looking forward to --" My words are lost mid-sentence as I catch site of him behind Logan's shoulders. He's staring at us, his eyes unforgiving and his lips twisted into a sneer. My stomach drops unpleasantly, and I realize the answer to my inner-riddle before. Sure, I was upset, but my fear was nothing compared to the malice that suddenly filled every fiber of my being in that one moment. "Excuse me." I nod towards my parents, and give Logan one last, fleeting glance before pushing past the three of them.
My heels echo across the tiled floor as I urgently decrease the space between me and my greatest enemy. I do not think as I pull a knife from the padding of my bra and shove it against his throat. It is like we are the only two in the room as I stare straight into his eyes and bare my teeth.
My voice drips with venom as I spit a warning. "You have a lot of nerve in coming here, Tuff." My voice is strained. I want to turn on my heel and flee the hall, but I stand my ground. "I am warning you now. If you so much as look at me for the rest of the night, I will not hesitate to bury this knife straight in your throat."
Tuff does not respond at first, his gaze focused on the knife at his throat. It feels like an eternity before he twists his lips into a vicious smile and echoes my honeydew words with phrases of his own.
"How lovely it is to see you too, Miss Birch." I feel like I am going to vomit with every word he coos, "I cannot possibly imagine what I did to deserve such hostility from you. After all, you are our esteemed guest." He pushes the knife away from my throat and catches my wrist. I quickly find it is difficult to swallow, the action too reminiscent of our positions a week before.
"Don't touch me." I spit, but he only smiles wider.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot, Milo. Please, it is an honor to mingle with you." He has me pinned again as he swallows me a tight hug. I feel all the air leave my lungs as he squishes me closer to him.
I can't help it. I lose all sense of self control, all awareness of the importance of the night because suddenly I am screaming at the top of my lungs. This is not a child's scream, and I am not playing. I genuinely feel fear as he squeezes me. It feels like I am forever trapped, sealed in the fate of the presence of my near-rapist. What had he called me again? Filthy slut.
I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed against him and before anyone could stop me, I cracked my free knuckle against his jaw. He stumbled for a second, as if uncertain what to do. A breath later, I found myself pinned to the ground under his weight. His fists found my ribs, and I felt them crack unpleasantly from the force.
"GET OFF OF ME." I holler, and I could feel sticky tears cling to my eyelashes as he continues his attack. It took a minute of hopeless struggling before I was able to push him to the side. As soon as I had the advantage I flip on top of him and grab my knife from where he had dropped it. I hold it to his throat, ready to end it all right then and there. I had done it before, with Logan, I could do it now. Take his life, do it, Milo. He deserves it. I yell incoherently as the tears fly down my face, but I was not able to succeed in my mission. Two strong arms interrupt me and pull me away from him. I kick my feet to no avail, the figure holding me was too strong.
I glance briefly at them only to realize it is my cousin Terry. Of course they would stop this fight. I was in the middle of a room with everyone who ever cared about me.
"Put me down!" I scream, but Terry does not listen. "The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did."
"I do not doubt that, Milo." Terry murmurs, but still he does not release me. I can see someone helping Tuff to his feet. Blood stains his lips, probably from the punch I landed on him, and he looks at me with mirth I never expected to be possible.
"Your girlfriend is fucking insane," Tuff speaks the words as if the very air he breathes is made of poison. I do not have to look to know who he is referring to. "In fact, her whole family is crazy. The whole lot of them. I bet they would all try to kill us if they could get away with it." He lets out a humorless laugh, and I have to wonder - did he speak the truth? Would we attack them if we could?
Terry certainly did not seem to be disagreeing with his words, even as he held my arms behind me. I glance around at the various members of my family. Some are like Terry, expressionless but silent. Others, like little Annalise, crack their knuckles and stare him down. Even Randolph Williams, a family member I hardly interacted with, wore a disturbed expression.
I swear under my breath and looked from Tuff to my family, and to Tuff again.
So much for the pleasant family dinner, and it was all my fault. "Well, shit."
It was clear that the Birch family was slipping from grace. It was not an easy fall and we did not stumble smoothly. Our failure came from swords sliced clean through necks and hopeless struggle on the field of battle. We were no longer impressive in the eyes of society, even as we futilely fought our way up the score boards in the dim lights of our training center.
It had become clear that tonight's union with the Blackmores, one where every member of the Birch family, close or not close was expected to attend, was not because we were powerful and we wanted to share in the light with the other family. No, we did not come to celebrate, for we had lost our societal standing the minute the fourth member of our family had lost his life in what should have been his most honored stage.
The truth was our parents had become desperate. We all heard the whispering in the hallways of our school, and the subtle cut in pay was not missed for those of us who were working. The respect district two once held for our family of careers was crumbling before our eyes. Surely this charade was a doomed attempt? The Blackmore's as a whole tolerated us (and I dared not speak of them as individuals. Surely I could not give my mother the satisfaction of seeing her little plan work), and we were welcome in their presence, but our position had been demolished in their eyes too.
I knew this was futile, yet I did not fight my mother's attempts to dress the four of us to the nines. Although I was the youngest of our branch of the family, she still threw all her efforts into making me look as grown-up as possible. After all, I was her crowning jewel, her everlasting glory. Objectively, I had come out on top in training, and therefore I deserved the most respect. It had become exhausting, really, and by the time I emerged from our manor, dressed in a shimmering gold dress, I felt like a peacock who had been plucked of all their feathers. Nobody would fall for such an act, especially after the mistake I had made in training only days before.
My scars were clearly visible, but I did not hide them in shame. My mother had fretted over the thick lines of pink that snaked down my arms and criss-crossed against my exposed legs. "What if they think you are weak, Milo, darling?" The lady had insisted, but I shook my head at her several times to get my point across. Firm words followed my objections: "Mother, these people do not object to pain. You got to trust me on this at least. My pain will only be our gain, I promise."
I was starting to regret my promises as I followed the crowd into the Blackmore manor. My eyes flitted from the large hall to the pictures on the wall. I could see his photograph, still just as vile and cruel as it was before. My breath caught in my throat as my father led me past the spot where he had touched me, and suddenly I felt myself go faint. I had to grab his arm in order to remain standing.
"Sweetums, what's wrong?" He inquires, turning towards me in order to fully support my weight. I cannot speak in my sudden fear. All I can do is stare into his eyes, the same shade as my own green, and try to convey every rush of emotion I was experiencing. I was not usually one for expressing feeling, especially towards those closet to me, but for some reason this moment felt like an exception.
"Um, I'm sorry, Father. I felt a little sick for a second there." Sick being the light-term for the gut-wrenching nausea that was trying to leap straight from my throat. "Must be the nerves, eh?" He nodded, but I could tell he was unconvinced. I would have to do better to conceal each and every lie.
Every step we took closer to the manor's large dining hall was a step closer to him. I could feel my heart leap in my chest, my emotions churning back and fourth between fright and anger. Which demeanor would I exhibit when I passed through the threshold and came face-to-face with the one person who was able to invade my nightmares?
I did not have much time to consider my impeding reaction. Soon we had crossed into the room and fell into line, waiting for proper instructions. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I was quickly distracted by the smiling form of Logan, who had walked across the room as soon as we entered. To greet my parents, I presumed. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Logan turned directly towards me.
"Hey, Milo." He greeted me with open arms, repeating the action from a week before. I did not have the chance to say anything before I was engulfed in his hug.
"Oh... hey, Logan. How are you?" I ask him quickly. I do not let go, not willing to leave the embrace just yet. He leans in towards my ear and whispers.
"I'm fine. How's my pretty killer today?" His breath is hot in my ear and I feel my face go flush with embarrassment. Was this normal friend behavior?
I pull away from him, but my fingers still brush his shoulders. "Oh, just fantastic, Lo'. Not really looking forward to --" My words are lost mid-sentence as I catch site of him behind Logan's shoulders. He's staring at us, his eyes unforgiving and his lips twisted into a sneer. My stomach drops unpleasantly, and I realize the answer to my inner-riddle before. Sure, I was upset, but my fear was nothing compared to the malice that suddenly filled every fiber of my being in that one moment. "Excuse me." I nod towards my parents, and give Logan one last, fleeting glance before pushing past the three of them.
My heels echo across the tiled floor as I urgently decrease the space between me and my greatest enemy. I do not think as I pull a knife from the padding of my bra and shove it against his throat. It is like we are the only two in the room as I stare straight into his eyes and bare my teeth.
My voice drips with venom as I spit a warning. "You have a lot of nerve in coming here, Tuff." My voice is strained. I want to turn on my heel and flee the hall, but I stand my ground. "I am warning you now. If you so much as look at me for the rest of the night, I will not hesitate to bury this knife straight in your throat."
Tuff does not respond at first, his gaze focused on the knife at his throat. It feels like an eternity before he twists his lips into a vicious smile and echoes my honeydew words with phrases of his own.
"How lovely it is to see you too, Miss Birch." I feel like I am going to vomit with every word he coos, "I cannot possibly imagine what I did to deserve such hostility from you. After all, you are our esteemed guest." He pushes the knife away from my throat and catches my wrist. I quickly find it is difficult to swallow, the action too reminiscent of our positions a week before.
"Don't touch me." I spit, but he only smiles wider.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot, Milo. Please, it is an honor to mingle with you." He has me pinned again as he swallows me a tight hug. I feel all the air leave my lungs as he squishes me closer to him.
I can't help it. I lose all sense of self control, all awareness of the importance of the night because suddenly I am screaming at the top of my lungs. This is not a child's scream, and I am not playing. I genuinely feel fear as he squeezes me. It feels like I am forever trapped, sealed in the fate of the presence of my near-rapist. What had he called me again? Filthy slut.
I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed against him and before anyone could stop me, I cracked my free knuckle against his jaw. He stumbled for a second, as if uncertain what to do. A breath later, I found myself pinned to the ground under his weight. His fists found my ribs, and I felt them crack unpleasantly from the force.
"GET OFF OF ME." I holler, and I could feel sticky tears cling to my eyelashes as he continues his attack. It took a minute of hopeless struggling before I was able to push him to the side. As soon as I had the advantage I flip on top of him and grab my knife from where he had dropped it. I hold it to his throat, ready to end it all right then and there. I had done it before, with Logan, I could do it now. Take his life, do it, Milo. He deserves it. I yell incoherently as the tears fly down my face, but I was not able to succeed in my mission. Two strong arms interrupt me and pull me away from him. I kick my feet to no avail, the figure holding me was too strong.
I glance briefly at them only to realize it is my cousin Terry. Of course they would stop this fight. I was in the middle of a room with everyone who ever cared about me.
"Put me down!" I scream, but Terry does not listen. "The bastard deserves it. He deserves it for what he did."
"I do not doubt that, Milo." Terry murmurs, but still he does not release me. I can see someone helping Tuff to his feet. Blood stains his lips, probably from the punch I landed on him, and he looks at me with mirth I never expected to be possible.
"Your girlfriend is fucking insane," Tuff speaks the words as if the very air he breathes is made of poison. I do not have to look to know who he is referring to. "In fact, her whole family is crazy. The whole lot of them. I bet they would all try to kill us if they could get away with it." He lets out a humorless laugh, and I have to wonder - did he speak the truth? Would we attack them if we could?
Terry certainly did not seem to be disagreeing with his words, even as he held my arms behind me. I glance around at the various members of my family. Some are like Terry, expressionless but silent. Others, like little Annalise, crack their knuckles and stare him down. Even Randolph Williams, a family member I hardly interacted with, wore a disturbed expression.
I swear under my breath and looked from Tuff to my family, and to Tuff again.
So much for the pleasant family dinner, and it was all my fault. "Well, shit."
Hello owners of Birches/Blackmores/Pines/Williams/McEwans/ETC. This is a massive family thread for anyone in connection with the families. It is essentially the "event of the year", where the two of the most influential families in District Two come together to celebrate and mingle. This can also be a mourning thread for Ares/Hannah/Beatrice/Cassius, and we can treat this as a formal occasion. Please dress your character appropriately. Also note that my character Vinnie Taylors-Birch will be crashing the party with his kinda-sorta-girlfriend Glitter Dewberry. This will come in later and is sure to add a little more drama (as if this thread does not have enough drama).
Please note you are welcome to post in any order you would like, and there is no minimum or maximum post length. As long as you adhere to site rules, you are fine. Have fun!!!
PS: Cato gave me permission for the Milo/Logan conversation.