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abel_grimm
Let's say you're a hobgoblin for 24 hours. What sort of havoc would you wreak? Or: If a baby of unknown origins suddenly fell into your care, would you keep it? What would you name it?
 I would... find it a home.
 
 
abel_grimm
23 April 2008 @ 05:52 pm

The Scene rarely changes. The dream is constant. The banquet has risen to the height of its glory.  My time has almost come.  The wolf and the lion are patrolling the grounds and I can hear the roars and howls mingling, dancing, in the Arcadian night. They dance in a myriad of color.  I see the moment.  I grab her hand.  I pull her out of the crowd.  For a moment, I feel safe as we run.  For a moment, I believe that the vines and thorns will stay their attacks.  I will bring her out of this nightmare.  Suddenly her hand is no longer in mine. I struggle to reach for her but I’m being dragged away.  I see those beautiful eyes… her mouth opened slightly.  I feel the light die in her as I’m pulled away.  I see the hope drain from her limbs.  I see a giant black lion lunging at me.  And just like that, she is gone.

The details never change. She and I are barely dressed and bleeding.  We are running from the nightmare.  The Mistress’ howl of rage is felt in her domain and it shakes me to the core.  I always escape.  She never does.  It never matters how hard I try.

Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I abandoned her.  Sometimes I wonder if she made it out at all.  Part of me prays she did. But the truth always comes crashing down.

I left her.  I was supposed to protect her and, instead, I was dragged away.  I tried to go back for her but the doors were closed.  The paths were blocked.  My brother held me to him.  They taste like poor excuses.  I hope she can forgive me.

 

He stood quietly with his head lowered.  He knew the time was coming when he would have to perform in front of the assembled host.  He felt his Mistress’ hand on her shoulder and this told him it was time.  His gaze rose to see a girl kneeling on a small cushion.  He found her beautiful as she knelt in mock submission.  He could tell she had pushed herself away from this performance and thanked her in his heart for that.  The Mistress of Spring thrived on lust and this girl was perfect for the performance.  He understood why she was chosen.  He saw the girl tense with a small amount of fear and inwardly sighed.  He looked over the weapons artfully placed around her and knew in that moment that a game was being played between Summer and Spring.  He chose the cat-of-nine-tails.  His Mistress approved.  He did his best with the weapon to rend her clothing and flesh with each blow.  She would shy from the attacks and whimper appropriately.   I just want to get this over with, he thought, but he knew that, for him, it would never end.  If he did well tonight, he might get to rest.

He picked up a long, slender blade…  He was never fond of them… and carved into her flesh.  He tasted the fear flowing from her but, more crushing; he felt her disdain for him.  It cut through him like a knife.  Maybe he showed some form of attraction to her.  It is possible he frowned a little there.  Whatever the reason, his Mistress gave Abel the signal to sexually take her.  He forced her onto her back and did as Spring bid him.  It was strange that this time felt different.  It was like she felt some form of relief and he was not used to his partner giving in so freely.  It broke his heart as she cringed and sobbed, trying to look convincing to the Others.

He surprised himself when he whispered, “I’m sorry” in her ear.  She threw her head back and he saw the grimace on her face for what it was.  Suddenly her thumb was in his mouth.

“Stop it! You’re only making it worse! It doesn’t matter anyway. Your sorry.” He swore she laughed at him.  The fire in him lit in that moment as his almost perfect rhythm faltered.  He knew that giving completely into his rage would get both of them punished so he bit down on her thumb and tasted her blood.   How dare she think him weak!  In that moment, she did something that melted his heart.  She pulled him close.  She held him to her.

“I’m called Cecily,” she whispered in his ear tersely.  He understood what she meant by that and he barely nodded. “Abel,” he replied quietly and tried hard to finish the scene for their masters. He let his emotions fuel the fire of passion as best he could, knowing that Spring would approve.  The applause meant they were finished.  He could discern no reason why he could no longer control himself when he began to cry.  His tears showered her in the moonlight and mingled with her sweat.  She held him then.  She sang to him.  He felt safe.

 
 
abel_grimm
18 January 2008 @ 04:08 pm
He sat in the chair and watched Emma sleep with Mr. Butch curled up in the crook of her elbow.  He had just pulled from her dreams after a long tiring and, somewhat, disturbing lesson.  He sighed silently unsure if what he was doing was truly helping the girl. Girl. She looked in her twenties, not much younger than him in fact.  Yet for some reason, she was his daughter.  Family. True Family. Gaea and he were trying hard to help. He knew he had to try or else he'd fail to live up to his expectations of himself.  She needed him.  He was there.

She had tried to cut the people who hurt her from her memories.  She said they were ugly.  He understood why.  The pain, or so she thought, was too great. She was tired of the constant crying and the crushing she felt around her heart.  The small cut that grows into an enormous, festering, wound of despair and self doubt.  The wound would grow and she would get worse and worse if someone weren't there to tell her it was all alright... that she wasn't one of the ugly people.  Abel found it ironic that he was sitting in that place helping Emma.  Not long ago, he was in the same spot.  There was a small wound in his heart as he watched the one he loved more than anything be with another.  The situations were different but the pain was the same. He thought on the past two years and how they changed him.  He was falling apart.  His heart felt crushed.  Everyone he loved turned their faces from him; everyone but her. Gaea.  She always saw him.  She anchored him; made him want to climb the hard climb back into some semblance of sanity.  He loved her more than life.

Now it was Abel's turn with his daughter.  He would anchor her.  He would, with the help of his beloved, help her grow strong.  He didn't know if he could give her purpose.  That didn't mean he wouldn't try.
 
 
abel_grimm
13 January 2008 @ 07:59 pm
Abel stood staring down where Emma had been sitting.  He stared quietly at the red beads of blood that were mingling on the hardwood floor. His blood was mixing with hers and he couldn't help but think it was some form of metaphor.  He couldn't explain the reasoning, but he had originally thought of her as a sister and something within him was moving.  She needed him and he was there. He didn't think.  He didn't plot.  He just went.  "Some would see my actions as one in love," he thought.  But that wasn't entirely untrue.  He looked in his heart and he really did love Emma... but not romantically. Yes. She was his daughter.  He realized that tonight and one small thing proved it.  She stabbed him through the shoulder with a pair of scissors while screaming at Jack.  He didn't react to it.  He didn't lash out at her touch or her attack.  He smiled at the thought.

Jack.  Something about him was off.  He shook his head back to his thoughts. 

Emma had finally broken but Abel could see in her eyes that she recognized him.  Maybe she broke herself to fix herself.  He hoped so.  He felt responsible for her. He didn't understand why... Couldn't wrap his head around it.  He shook his thoughts away and returned to the task at hand.  Emma needed him.  He ignored the fact that she hit an artery with the scissors.  He ignored the pain and the slightly blurred vision.  He forced his heart to beat calm and steady.  He pulled the gloves tight over his hands, adjusted his tie, and walked slowly toward where Jack had taken Emma.

His thoughts came back to Jack Thorn.  Something about him was wrong.  Abel understood that the boy didn't trust him.  After meeting Cain, not many did.  Up to this point, Abel had never let that affect him.  Jack reminded him of Black.  Abel didn't understand why but he would figure it out.  He would not let anything happen to his daughter if he could help it,  Woe be to anyone who harmed her.