You knock twice on the doorframe of the spare room. “Desmond?” You step in without being invited. “A few people from school are going to the Sleeping Fox tonight and I was wondering if I’d be allowed to go?”
He doesn’t stop what he’s doing; he straightens up an old gin bottle with the use of two fingers, ensuring that it was perfectly in line with the dozens of other antique liquor bottles positioned atop wooden shelves. “Why are you asking me?”
Was that not obvious? “Honestly? Because I know Lucy will say no.”
The sudden contortion of his features told you he knew exactly what you were talking about. “Good point.” He stepped off the stool and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Well, as long as you’re back before curfew, then I don’t see why not.”
“Awesome.” You’re already backing out of the room in case he plans on changing his mind. “Thanks.”
Desmond hums in acknowledgement and goes back to tending to his collection. Within a matter of seconds, you’re back in your room, the outfit you had chosen earlier waiting patiently on the bed. It sucked that the island had a curfew, but at least you’ll get to spend a few hours with your friends.
Friends...heh. It was funny. Back home it took more than a week before anyone could really be entitled ‘friend’, yet here...it felt as though you had known each and every one of them for years. Perhaps you were meant to move here all along – destiny is crazy like that. Though you had hoped the cause for moving had been under better circumstances.
Drifting towards the attached bathroom, you automatically reach for the makeup box on the edge of the sink. Today had been a long day, and your face was paying the unfortunate price . New routines tend to screw with your body in many undesirable ways, but fortunately there were minor tweaks you could make so it didn’t look as though you were ready to drop.
It wasn’t a special evening, so natural tones deemed the more appropriate choice.
It always feels a bit like doing art restoration. Just minor concealer to hide the flaws, highlights to emphasize the features that work: minor shifts in emphasis, but nothing too gaudy. The kinds of changes that you wish you could make in your own life.
You look at yourself one last time in the mirror. You smile. Seeing yourself so put together helps reassure you. You adjust your hair, then head on out. Hopefully tonight will be as fun as promised.
The location of the staircase was almost lost to you; it was taking some time to grow accustomed to the layout of this house. Your body was still performing as though you were in your old house. There, you didn’t need to think about which direction to turn or how many steps there were to reach the bottom floor. You just knew. Your body knew. It naturally anticipated every step, avoided every creaky floorboard, swerved around furniture with the level of grace one expects of a dancer.
But now, you descend the staircase with caution. Every step is slow and calculated. The railing is gripped in preparation for a misstep. You don’t trust yourself to walk. You turn, knowing where everything is, but at the same time questioning whether you know where everything is.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, it would have been a left to get to the kitchen. Now it’s a right.
In a few days, you’ll inevitably forget the change. You’ll have gotten used to the steps. You’ll trust yourself enough to release the railing and operate as though you had never known any other home. It’s rather upsetting to think about.
You nearly step on Rooni’s tail. He’s sprawled across the hallway, as usual.
Rooni raised his head and blinked those big brown eyes. You knew what that meant. Crouching, you reach behind his ear and reward him with a good scratch.
“You like that, huh?” He was an easy dog to please. “You’re such a good boy.”
You’re rewarded for the massage with a slobbery kiss; a thick layer of saliva coated your cheek, with Rooni appearing rather pleased with himself as he slurps his tongue back into his mouth.
“Ugh, gross...thanks. Thanks, Rooni, that’s...lovely.”
Rooni barks, his tail swishing across the floorboards like a hairy metronome.
“You want your dinner?”
Another bark. One day, you’re positive words will leave his mouth. He waits - impatiently, you may add - until you step over his colossal body to trudge into the kitchen after you. He takes his usual seat by his empty dinner bowl, watching as the bag of dog food is dragged across the kitchen floor.
“There we go,” you whisper, some of the biscuits skidding across the floorboards after accidentally overfilling the bowl, “eat up, big boy.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice; you have barely enough time to back away to a safe distance before Rooni is devouring his food, nearly choking when gulping the biscuits down too fast.
“What are you doing all dressed up?”
Lucy appears in the archway with anxiously narrowed eyes, her car keys getting tossed atop the counter. Crap. The one night she actually arrives home early.
“Oh, this?” You play dumb. “This is what I always wear when I’m knocking around the house.”
She doesn’t buy it.
Her hands fall to her hips the same time as her lips press into a thin line – the tell-tale signs of an inevitable lecture. You brace yourself. There was no way you were leaving the house now.
“(Y/N), where were you planning on going?”
Your eyes drop to the floor. “Some people were going to the Sleeping Fox tonight and I was going to join them.”
“On a school night? To that dump? Oh no, I don’t think so.”
“But, Lucy-”
“There’s nothing you can say that will get me to change my mind, (Y/N). Now go upstairs and change.”
There was no point in arguing. Lucy had this weird overprotective attitude when it came to you. It was nice to know that she cared about your safety, of course, but there was always an unexplained anxiousness in her eyes - almost as though she were worried someone were going to attack you in the streets. But this was one of the safest islands in the world.
Lucy stepped aside in order for you to pass, but in doing so, she bumped into Desmond who had just rounded the corner. “Whoa, what’s going on in here?”
“(Y/N) was getting ready to go to that shitty karaoke bar by herself tonight.”
Desmond’s gaze flickers to you. “Yeah, so? I already told her she could go.”
Her brows furrow at this newfound knowledge. “You told her she could go? And you didn’t think of asking me first?”
“I didn’t think I needed your permission to make decisions around here.”
An involuntary gasp escapes the safety of your mouth the same time as Lucy’s eyes narrow dangerously. Even Desmond looks close to biting off his own tongue, but somehow he continues to stand his ground.
“Don’t say that as though I boss you around.”
“Well then don’t constantly undermine me.”
“I never undermine you.”
“Uh, yeah, you do.” He points at you. “I give her permission to do something, and then you turn around a few minutes later and completely disregard what I said. Your name isn’t the only one on the adoption forms, you know.”
Their voices grow progressively louder the longer the argument persists. This was not supposed to happen at all! They’ve had little tiffs before but this time they were near rabid. You flinch, feeling the impact as Lucy’s hand connects with Desmond’s cheek. This had gotten way out of hand.
“Guys, that’s enough!” You step in between them, gaze flickering uneasily from one to the other. “This entire argument is friggin’ crazy! If I knew a night out was going to cause all this crap, then I never would’ve asked in the first place! I’m going to go change.”
Once confident that no more slaps were to be thrown about, you vacated the kitchen, seeking sanctuary in your bedroom.
Whilst you’re changing (3rd POV)
The slamming of a door upstairs provided Lucy and Desmond with the answer they sought: (Y/N) was hidden away in their room with no way of knowing what was about to take place.
Baby blue eyes trailed towards Desmond. “I can’t believe that worked.”
The frown melts from his face to reveal a broadening smile. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me? I do have my fair share of good plans.”
Lucy was stepping into his arms with a laugh, cupping his cheeks and placing a quick kiss upon his lips. “Yes, you do. And thank you, Desmond.” Her palms smooth over his chest. “I know you think I’m crazy for preventing (Y/N) from going out, but-”
“Lucy, no.” He interrupts, the tips of his fingers trailing the length of her arms. “I get it. I do. I wanna protect her just as much as you do.”
Her lips curled into a soft smile. “I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”
Desmond’s mouth opens to respond but the delicate chiming of the doorbell interjects. “You expecting company?” He removes himself from Lucy’s arms at the shake of her head and goes to answer the door. He quirks a brow at the sight of one Edward Kenway lounging negligently against the doorframe, both hands stuffed into the pockets of a dark leather jacket.
“I’m sorry,” Desmond says slowly, eyeing Edward up and down. “We didn’t order a Johnny Bravo impersonator.”
Edward removes his Ray Bans and straightens up. “Actually I’m here to pick up (Y/N).” He attempts to peer around Desmond’s body, but Desmond blocks his view. “She coming down?”
“Your name is Kenway, isn’t it?”
He nods. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” He glances towards the stairs. “Unfortunately (Y/N)’s not going anywhere tonight. Especially not to a bar.”
The corners of Edward’s mouth tug down into a slight frown. “She told me earlier she was going to join us all. What changed?”
“Lucy and I just don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go out tonight without supervision.” He offers a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
Edward was left standing on the porch, dumbfounded, as the door was slammed in his face. He attempts to steal a peek inside using the windows, but the blinds are drawn, keeping the interior of the house hidden from the outside world. “What a dick.” He clicks his tongue and hurries back to the ’72 Dodge Challenger idling on the curb.
“Is (Y/N) not coming with us?”
Connor shifts restlessly in the passenger seat as Edward climbs behind the wheel, the door slamming shut with a hollow clang.
“’Fraid not, lad.” He glares out the window. “That Desmond fellow is keeping her prisoner.”
“Prisoner?”
“Aye. Prisoner. We need to bust her out of there.”
Connor’s hand shoots out and catches his brothers wrist. “We can’t do that.”
Edward stares at his own fingers still closed around the handle of the door. “Sure we can. We just need to find the right bedroom, sneak her out, and make sure she’s home before curfew.”
“And what if they decide to check in on her during the night? They are going to notice she isn’t there.”
“If being the operative word, lad. Everything will be fine.” He made a move to leave the car but Connor’s voice had him stopping once more.
“Everything will be fine for us. Not for her. If her guardians do find her missing, no doubt they will come to the Sleeping Fox and drag her back home. That would be humiliating, and she’d be punished for disobeying.”
Edward bites the inside of his cheek. Connor was right – as usual. He really hated that. “Do you realise that since you’ve come to live with me and the old codger, you’ve slowly been morphing me into a better human being? I really hate that.”
Connor couldn’t help but smile to himself as his brother started up the engine and pulled away from the curb. “You give me too much credit, Edward. I only offer an opinion. It is you who decides what to do with it.”
Edward’s eyes roll skywards. “Jesus, man, sometimes you talk as though you’re not even from here.”
“But I’m not.” He says innocently. “I’m from New York.”
He wasn’t sure whether Connor was being serious or not – he was still growing accustomed to his sense of humour. “Riiiight. Whatever you say, lad.”
Connor simply blinked and went back to watching the road ahead.
An hour later (Your POV)
Desmond leans over the back of the couch with a beer bottle clutched between his fingers. “How are you liking Cujo so far? Pretty great, huh?”
Surely he had to be kidding? How could he ask such a question?
“Yeah...great.”
He smiles and gives your shoulder a pat before stalking to the kitchen, leaving you alone with him. That’s right. The reason for such...displeasure was due to the fact that on the couch beside you sat the living incarnation of Cujo.
Rooni.
Your eyes dart to the right. He’s watching you, those big brown eyes glimmering with murderous intent. His tongue unfurls and wets his snout – unfortunately, the action has his jowls getting ensnared behind a pair of protruding fangs.
On-screen, the main character, Donna, is in the process of acting as Cujo’s personal chew toy. Rooni looks to the screen then back to you. His stomach growls.
Oh God.
“Don’t go getting any ideas, you hairy shit.” You grumble, scooting as far away as possible. Rooni simply wags his tail in response; you’ll never feel comfortable around him again.
The front door closes – was someone going out? The distinct click of Lucy’s heeled boots grows louder as she appears from down the hall. “You’ve got visitors.”
Visitors? But who-?
“Yo, (Y/N),” Rebecca greets, sweeping into the room with a cardboard box cradled in her arms, “Didn’t think you’d be getting rid of us that easy, did ya?”
Élise, Evie, and one other girl whose name eludes you, crowd into the living room. Rooni whines and exhales heavily from his nose – his way of sulking, you’ve come to realise – before swiftly vacating the area. He’s more like you than you care to admit; large gatherings tend to become a tad overwhelming.
The box is set on the floor beside the television unit with Rebecca digging through its contents. Élise removes her shoes and wastes little time in making herself at home. The unfamiliar redhead claims the vacant armchair and lets her hair down, only to tie it up again not five seconds later. Evie is the only one courteous enough to approach with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry for barging in like this unannounced. I wanted to call ahead but Rebecca insisted we keep it a surprise.”
The level of worry on her expression was far too sincere – and adorable. Was she always this much of a sweetheart? “Don’t sweat it, Evie. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see you guys, but I thought you all were going to the karaoke bar tonight.”
Élise interjects, “We were. But then Edward arrived and told us you were forced to stay put, so we decided to bring the party to you.”
They came all the way here just to spend time with you? That was actually really flattering. Truth be told, you didn’t even find yourself to be that interesting, so knowing these girls would rather spend their evening with you really touched your heart – and that’s hard to do!
“Not to mention the bar has become total dullsville lately.” Rebecca comments from her place on the floor. “La Volpe has really let the place turn to shit.”
“I hear he’s planning on selling it,” Élise pulls her legs up on the couch. “Though I don’t see how anyone could be stupid enough to buy a bar that reeks of cat piss.”
Your nose crinkles, which earns a laugh from Rebecca. “You think that’s bad? I found a nest of decaying rats behind the couch last week.”
Differently pitched exclamations of disgust occupy the living room. “And you all still hang out there?” Now you were actually grateful Lucy kept you from going.
“Unfortunately traditions are difficult to break.” A wistful smile plays on Evie’s lips as she takes a seat on the couch beside you, one long leg crossing over the other.
“That and most of us can hardly afford to go anywhere else,” says Rebecca, “Some of the places around here have insane prices. If it weren't for the mini-mart, I'd never eat.”
There was a hum of agreement from Evie. “I've been thinking about getting a job. I'm going to need to start saving if I wish to attend PUL.”
“PUL?” You quirk a brow and she smiles.
“Primrose University of Law. It's listed as one of the top ten most prestigious universities in the world.”
“Wow, so you already know what it is you want to do? I haven't given a single thought to my future...”
Honestly, a similar conversation took place thirteen months ago, and your answer then is the same one as now: who the hell knows? It was an unfortunate truth that you were one of those complicated individuals that had a closet overflowing with unfinished projects. Everything you start always seems like a great idea at first, but then a few days later and all interest is completely gone; If you can't even stick to completing a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, then how could choosing a life-long career possibly be expected of you?
The tanned redhead shoots a look of reproach your way. “Don't you think you should start? Sitting on your ass may seem like fun now, but it's going to be pathetic in a few years when you're unemployed and mooching off your friends.”
You’re rendered momentarily speechless. Who the hell even was this chick?! She certainly has a lot of nerve coming into your home and tossing about unbidden advice.
“Tone down the bitchiness, Caterina.” Élise is always coming to your rescue. “You, of all people, shouldn't be judging someone else’s life choices.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.” She looks to you. “Miss Sforza here has this airheaded fantasy which involves her marrying straight out of high school and living a life of luxury.”
Caterina's lips pucker unhappily. “It is not a fantasy. Why only yesterday I caught Signore Riario giving me the eye.”
Evie just about chokes on the air. “You can't be serious?! Girolamo Riario? He's in his forties, easily.”
“And that simply adds to the allure.”
“What allure could a man pushing fifty possibly have?”
“Isn't it obvious?” She pulls her legs onto the armchair and begins to enumerate on her fingers. “He'll be highly knowledgeable and experienced in, well...pretty much everything; I don't need to worry about him making embarrassing and immature comments whilst in public; he'll be financially stable; and I bet he'll be able to find the most intimate of places on my body like no boy our age could.”
Rebecca interjects, “And you've always wanted to be a mother, so in a few years down the track, you'll be able to change his diapers for him.”
A scowl contorted Caterina's features when Rebecca's comment earned a titter from each of you. “Laugh all you want, but you'll see; everyone else will be struggling through college and work, and I'll be relaxing in Maui with my husband beside me and our three kids frolicking in the ocean. Life will be perfect.”
You give an unnoticeable shake of your head. There's a simplicity to having every single aspect of life planned out – right down to the most microscopic of details. But you know, firsthand, that there are scenarios which can be neither changed nor predicted. It's just the way life goes - it's not necessarily a bad thing, however. Hell, meeting everyone here proved to be an unexpected pleasure. And quite frankly, you eagerly anticipate whatever other surprises the island plans on hurling in your direction.
The maniacal giggling of a chipmunk draws everyone’s attention to the coffee table, finding the screen of your phone lighting up as a message arrives. “Oh, it's from Jacob.” You smile, reading over the message.
“What's he want?” Evie attempts to read the message over your shoulder.
“He wants to know if...oh...,” your cheeks flush, “...if the pillow fight had begun. He even added a wink.”
“See? An older man would never ask something like that.”
A roll of your eyes is offered in response to Caterina's comment. “I'm gonna have to disappoint him.”
“No, don't do that!” Élise snatches the phone from your hands before you had a chance to hit ‘Send'.
“What are y—”
You're silenced when she raises a finger and brings the phone to her ear. “Jacob? We all saw the message you sent. Don't you know it's impolite to ask what a woman does in the privacy of her own—” She interrupts herself with a loud yip and giggle, as though she was being tickled by some invisible source. “(Y/N), stop! That tickles!” There's a heat in her tone which has a blush clawing its way onto your cheeks. “Don't touch me there! Jacob, I have to go! I've got a naughty girl to punish.”
Right before hanging up, you could've sworn you heard Ezio shouting ‘send pictures' in the background. Élise tossed your phone back and eased into the cushions, propping her feet up on the coffee table with a satisfied grin. “That should keep their tiny minds occupied for awhile.”
Evie appears...displeased with how the situation was handled. “I can't believe you acted as though we were doing something. Now Jacob's going to be hounding me for details when I get home.”
The beautiful redhead goes to respond, but Caterina pipes up before even a syllable was uttered. “Don't take it too personally, Evie. Unfortunately our little Élise can't control that sluttish nature of hers.”
You're confident your jaw just dropped. Did this girl only come here to insult everyone?!
“I beg your goddamn pardon?” Élise sits up straighter and tucks her hair behind one ear. “My sluttish nature? That's a bit rich coming from you. I don't believe it were my legs that were spreading for Ezio on a first date.”
Caterina smirked, seemingly unfazed by her comment. “No, but that's because you were too busy being on your knees for the Al-Sayf brothers.”
Élise's perfectly manicured nails bite into couch cushion. “And you were bending over for Edward.”
“Whilst you were riding Arno.”
“This is why I usually steer clear of girls’ night.” Rebecca clicks her tongue and bangs on the table. “Listen, we came here to have a good time, so let's all pretend we're still virgins, and have some fun.”
You almost laugh at that - as if there were any need for pretending on your part – but currently your mind was still reeling from the knowledge that over half the population of the school has slept together at one time or another. It wasn't any of your business, you knew that. But still...something inside of you sinks. It can't possibly be disappointment. It's not as though you were actually interested in anyone – how could you be? It's only been a day. And yet you hated finding out about their...love lives.
“Now,” Rebecca raises herself from the rug and removes bags of crisps and cans of soda from the box she brought, “I've got extra spicy chips and ultra-caffeinated, sugary beverages.”
Evie stiffens beside you, and a quick glance to the left shows that the colour had drained from her face. “I...I don't suppose you have anything else? Something...lighter? Less calories?”
Less calories? The girl was a twig and she was worrying about calories? Why...oh. She couldn't be...could she?
Rebecca cracks open a can of soda and chugs it down. “’Fraid not, Eve.” She stifles a burp in her sleeve.
The weakest of smiles makes an appearance before vanishing completely. “No matter. I wasn't really hungry anyway.”
No one else even takes notice...but you do. Your own mother would suffer the same way. She would never say anything – as people don't – and no one dare draw attention to it. But the signs were there. And right now, Evie was exhibiting the signs. You don't understand – and you'll never pretend to – how someone so beautiful could have such a horrible illness plaguing their mind.
“Check it out.” Rebecca held up a gaming console. “I brought over my PlayStation4 so we could play.”
“We do have our own gaming console, Becs.”
She scoffed and sent a look your way suggesting she believed you to be insane. “An Xbox? Please. Everyone knows that PlayStation is the more superior console.”
You weren't going to argue with her. It was an argument you'd never win.
Whilst Rebecca got to work on setting up the console, Caterina took it upon herself to fill the silence. “How long have you and Edward been an item?”
You weren't aware she was speaking to you until all eyes zoned in on you. “Who? Me? I'm not with anyone.”
Did she believe you? Of course she didn't. “And we're supposed to believe that after what we witnessed in the cafeteria today? You were seated in his personal ‘fuck-of-the-week’ spot.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait...what?! Your eyes bulge from their sockets.
She smiles, but there was something peculiar in her eyes when she does. “Oh, were you not aware? Edward doesn't stick with one girl any longer than he has to...and neither does Ezio, but that's a story for another day.” With the slightest of head tilts, she continues, “If you think you're in any way important, then you're sadly mistaken, bambola (doll). You're nothing but flavour of the week.”
“You say that as though I'd actually allow myself be ‘flavour of the week’.” Did you look like an idiot? “Edward and I only met today. And even if I had known him longer, I have more respect for myself than to allow someone use me as a one night stand.”
Whilst the three other girls shared a smile, Caterina looked less than impressed. Sorry, but you were not some naive virgin who remained unaware of how the world operates. Truthfully, you were probably the only person in the universe who could see a person's true nature. It sounds strange, yes, but you possessed an unnatural ability since you were a child – you may even have been born with it. Though difficult to explain, it could best be described as an ‘extrasensory perception'. The ability to view the world in a way other's couldn't; hearing shapes, seeing sound, instinctively knowing one's true essence by the colour which surrounds them. It was difficult to understand at first – especially since there was no one with whom you could of spoken to about this – but you're fairly confident you've since mastered your gift over the years. Hell, in the beginning, it was something which could never be turned off; everything used to be a painfully blinding glow, and the piercing scream of numerous shapes was near defeating. Every day was spent nursing a migraine, but now...it was nice to be able to look at someone's face instead of a blur of colour.
“I was being considerate, you know.” Caterina says. “I warned you against Edward because I care.”
The level of sincerity in her tone would have been mistakenly believable were there not currently a scarlet glow betraying her.
All you can do is smile and nod. “I know, Cat.”
▪~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~▪
A/N: I can't wait until I start adding individual results - which will be soon, I promise~!
I don't know what it is, but there's something about Caterina that I cannot stand. Please don't hold it against me! So I've made her...well, I won't say enemy, because she's not going to be anywhere near as psychotic as Lucretzia, but she's definitely not going to be making you a friendship bracelet any time soon xD
How do you guys feel about possessing Eagle Vision~?