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SILENCE BETWEEN SONGS ──────
"SO, WHAT'S YOUR STORY?"
Ronnie watched Damon walk over to the bar cart, her view flipped upside down where her head hung off the edge of the couch, her legs thrown over the back of it. She waved a hand in the air, eyes fluttering passively. "Oh, you know– grew up here, got accused of murder and sent to juvie. Came back to get revenge and prove my innocence."
Damon pauses, mid-pour of his drink as he narrows his eyes in her direction, seemingly trying to detect if she was being facetious or not. "Not exactly the best way to go about proving your innocence," He continued, voice slow and careful as he watched her eyes shut and her fingers begin to conduct a melody he couldn't hear. "Murdering other people, that is. Take it from me."
She doesn't seem to hear him at all, and he blinks in slight shock as she twists herself swiftly– inhumanly– off the couch and to her feet. She's got a black skirt on, dark black tights on beneath it, with a sweater tucked into the skirt, and she'd kicked her shoes off as soon as he'd directed her up the stairs of the boarding house towards his wing of the house.
She would appear normal at first glance– she had, at least to him. But it really only took a few words out of her mouth for that notion to go entirely out the window.
He figured he wasn't wrong in his assumptions that she had a few screws loose, the longer he was around her. She had an air about her that just showed she existed somewhere far, far from reality.
She walks past him towards the dark walls, adorned with crown moulding and paintings older than Damon. "It's so loud in here," She huffs, shooting a somewhat crazed, pained look at him. "They're all so mad."
He thinks maybe the screws are gone altogether.
"We're the only ones here," Damon says, lifting his glass up to take a hefty drink off of it. "Unless we're suddenly being faced with the countless spirits of forest animals my brother has killed over the years."
"Not animals," She shakes her head, hands still pressed against the walls. She shifts again suddenly, too easy and too smooth to be all her. "Just lots of people."
She turns to face him, blue eyes narrowing. She steps forward, feet silent on the floors, and Damon lets her approach him, her head tilted back just enough so she could maintain eye contact with him as the tips of her toes hit his shoes. "Do you feel it?"
Damon's jaw clenches and he looks down at her with a flinty gaze. "Feel what?"
"All that guilt," She breathes the word out, hands coming up to rest atop his shoulders. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel all of those people clawing at you? Why did you do it, Damon? Why'd you kill all of them? What did they ever do to you?"
